Her eyes snapped open.
"Right, let's get you out. You look like you could use a rest."
Ginny sat up, her heart thundering just like Genovefa's had in that memory. Holding her head, she stood and the animus built into her booth powered down.
"That was some really good stuff." Lydia Masters, one of Abstergo Entertainment's managers said, offering a hand as Ginny left her station to take a seat on the nearby sofas.
"Cheers. It was pretty nerve racking though. I thought they were going to die." She said, trying to hide her hands that still shook.
"If they did, that would make a very short and uninteresting film." Lydia smiled. "It's looking to be a very promising subject, no one's been able to go back this far and if I'm honest, I didn't think we'd be able to get these memories from subject seventeen, I thought it'd be too... Decomposed."
"Well, it's been working fine so far."
"Indeed. Take a break, I'll get you a coffee and then hop right back- Oh, hello? Hi, yeah..." Lydia was cut off by a call coming in through her headset but waved to Ginny, mouthing that'd she'd be right back as she left.
Slumping in her seat, Ginny let out a deflating sigh. She'd only just started working on the Subject 17 project last week and today was her first day of collecting memories. She'd been sceptical to start after the incident with one of the staff being attacked and Olivier, the boss, going missing during the making of a film based in the 18th century of pirates in the West Indies. But, it paid well, it looked fun, and hell, her history degree made her more than qualified to do it.
It was strange, she thought, that Subject 17's ancestors, Genovefa, looked so much like her. As far as she knew, she was never related to this Desmond Miles, but then again, she'd hardly gone into an in-depth search of her family tree.
Lydia returned with a steaming coffee in a paper cup and passed it to Ginny. She thanked her and the woman smiled and left again. Taking careful sips, Ginny looked around, watching the other staff either chatting around a snack station or basically unconscious, hooked up to the animus in their booth. Did they know they were working for Templars? Were they Templars themselves?
Almost absent mindedly, Ginny felt her necklace under her shirt, a metal pendant in the shape of the Assassin's symbol. A small grin played on her face before she looked down into her coffee. It's going to be fun, she thought, playing the spy.