Chapter Text
‘Visions of the Past and Present’
Chapter 1; Burned
It was Nile who saw him first.
They had just finished a run of the mill mission and were on their way back to their temporary hideout. It was not her habit to nap right after a mission, normally she would be too on edge from the fight, but she had been tired all day. It had felt almost natural to let her head fall back in the front seat of the armoured vehicle and let her eyes fall shut in a light slumber.
She dreamt. Just like when she had dreamt of Quýnh before they met a while ago. Flashes flickering by almost too fast to observe. But Nile had training to notice things quick and was able to retain some of the information shown to her.
A man flashed past her eyes. Dark hair which appeared to curl a little now that it had grown out a bit. A jagged scar bisecting his lips. The horrible feeling of being resigned to whatever was going on, but with an undertone of anxiousness just below the surface. It was dark, but there was an ominous blue and golden glow nearby.
Then the image of a hand, shaking until its owner tensed enough for them to still. They hovered for a moment, outstretched to touch-
Pain exploded.
Burning. It burned. Fuck it burned.
It spread.
Let go- can’t.
Need to-
Let go.
Burned-
And then nothing.
Nile choked on her own breath, he vision hazy as she opened her eyes.
“Nile!”
She was folded forwards, protectively cradling her arm which had burned- burned- bu-
Hands touched her shoulder, gentle as they nudged her to lean back against her backrest. It took a moment to register that the car had pulled over and the passenger door was open. Someone checked her vitals, then the hands vanished.
Nile blinked the tears from her eyes to see Andy standing next to her, while Nicky leaned over the car’s center console.
“It’s okay.” Nicky patted Nile’s shoulder, “You’re okay.”
Still, Nile breathed heavily, unable to calm down properly. She had died many times by now, but the dream had been different. It had hurt so fucking much. It had been horrible. Horrible, like the dreams she had gotten because of Quýnh’s watery prison.
“What did you see?” Andy’s eyes were knowing, as they usually seemed to be.
Nile’s wide eyes turned to face her, “Some guy.” She whispered, hand clenching to test if it still could. As if she had endured that pain first hand. “He died bad.”
Joe, who was still in the backseat, leaned forwards, notebook in hand. “Tell me.”
At this point, Booker and Quýnh reached them as well. They had been in the other car with Andy and frowned as they listened to Nile.
“Man. Middle aged. Around my age maybe?” Nile frowned, clenching her eyes shut as she tried to recall the image. “Tan skin. Dark hair- short, but growing out a little and curling at the ends. Roman nose, long facial shape.”
Nicky nodded, “Good, you’re doing good. What else.”
A headache pounded behind her eyes as she tried to focus. “A scar, from just above his lips trailing down to his chin. That- that’s all I-”
“Okay. Where was he? What did you see around him?”
“Dark. It was dark. The place looked odd. Artificial lighting.” Nile shook her head.
Joe frowned down at his notepad, clearly disappointed at the lack of identifiable details, but that was a matter for later. They were all more likely to dream of the newcomer soon enough. Not that they knew it was coming, they could prepare for it accordingly.
Silence fell as the group let the new information settle.
It was pretty close after Nile’s first death, but then again, Joe and Nicky also awakened around the same time, so perhaps it was not that odd for two to appear to close together. They were in a bit of a better spot to introduce him than they were when Nile first awoke, which was a small mercy.
“Let’s delay our next mission.” Andy decided, “Nobody sleep until we return to our temporary base. We sleep in turns to gain more information. We go from there.”
-
It started with the end.
Or rather, what should have been the end. Death should have been the end for any human. The price of stopping the solar flare from killing most of humanity had been death.
The promise of a painless death had been a cruel lie. Fitting after a lifetime of being lied to at every single turn. Desmond had been prepared for death, he expected it to be quick, but it was anything but.
Electricity burned him as the pedestal came to live under his hand. The electrocution soon turned Desmond’s blood to liquid fire as it burned through his veins. It was neither quick nor painless as the sensation spread through his entire body before finally, after too long, his heart gave out under the stress of it all.
Even then, the current of electricity kept him afoot for a few moments before his body was free to collapse where he stood.
It should have been the end. Desmond’s story should have finished there. His body was left behind as the team he had travelled with for months now fled to avoid being cornered by Templars.
Then Desmond woke up, as if it all had just been a bad dream.
Except it wasn’t a bad dream, it had all been very real.
Had Desmond woken even a moment later, he would have been too late to avoid being cut open and taken apart organ by organ by Abstergo.
Who the fuck even did an autopsy on site? Psychopaths, that’s who.
Desmond took his first breath after dying to the sound of an electric bone saw being tested. It was pure instinct which had long since Bled into Desmond’s array of odd and undeserved skills. They weren’t really Desmond’s, which resulted in Desmond’s movement often lagging behind his intend.
The scalpel the hazmat-suited Templar wielded had already sunken into Desmond’s skin. It cut into the top of one of his shoulders by the time Desmond shot up and grabbed the man by his neck. Which is when the horrible realisation of having no hidden blade strapped around his forearm set in.
Thankfully, Desmond still Bled, and the instinct which came with that took over to save the day.
The scalpel lodged in his chest quickly became the most viable weapon he had access to, and Desmond wielded it with precision. Whichever Assassin guided his movements, Desmond did not know, but it was because of them that Desmond managed to kill the four Templars before they could even think to pick up a weapon.
Then it took a moment to figure out what was going on.
Desmond had been laying on a metal table. Naked. He had a wound on his- wait… where is the cut? Didn’t the Templar cut into him?
“Fucking Bleeding Effect.” Desmond whispered, rubbing the spot.
Where the hell were his clothes?
With the Templars dead, Desmond started looking through the items carefully stored in one of the crates. He was very pleased when he found his clothing, which was a mercy in and of itself. Besides that, he was able to find his bag, and his hidden blades which he eagerly strapped on.
Desmond did glance at the paper version of his file, which had been left open on one of the nearby crates, only to find a fucking death certificate.
His death certificate.
‘Cause of death: inconclusive.
December twenty-second, twenty twelve. Sample Recovery Unit. Team-Lead Fisher, Case reporting on Subject Seventeen, Desmond Miles. The Subject was deceased and unattended. Time of death was placed around zero-hundred hours and seven minutes, with conditions favorable for DNA sample recovery. We had some initial concerns about interference in the Vault, but given the skill and talent of this team, we were able to capture useful data so far. I personally retrieved the subject's backpack, and extracted a number of objects of interest, to undergo detailed analysis.
The subject displayed burns to the right hand, severe enough to fuse the bones, indicating some kind of spontaneous, intense burn trauma. Honestly, we have never seen anything like it before. Head, neck, and torso remained in good condition. I hand-selected recovery agents to recover fluid samples—blood and saliva. – further notes to be added.’
“What the fuck.” Desmond gruffed, surprised at how rough his voice sounded for a moment.
No wonder they were trying to flay him open. They thought he was dead. At reading about the burns on his right hand, Desmond flexed his hand. It felt fine. No bone fusion, nor burn of any kind. He remembered the pain, he could almost feel it if he thought about it long enough, but there was no mark of it ever happening.
Seeing the note on samples, Desmond frowned and started looking around until he found a cool-box. It probably had a fancy name or something, but it looked like a cool-box and acted as a fridge so Desmond could not care less.
Inside were the aforementioned samples. Blood samples, DNA samples, and more files. All marked with a label; ‘Subject 17, Desmond Miles – Taken/Stored: 12/22/12, Turin, New York’.
“Fuck me.” Desmond muttered, all but throwing the sample bags back into the cooler.
Desmond needed to get rid of those samples, and burn his files. Maybe even see if he can get his online files destroyed, though that might be a far fetched dream.
He had to move quickly.
Chances were that this skeleton crew was soon going to be joined by a bigger research team. That was usually how Abstergo liked to move. It made them faster and meant that they could reach a location of interest before the ‘interesting’ thing had left.
Destroy tech and delete footage, get rid of samples and file, close the Temple so no one else can enter it.
Easy.
Destroying samples was not so difficult. Desmond could do it with his eyes closed by now. The paper files were easily burned, but the computer was the real issue. It had been locked and, while Rebecca had done her very best to teach Desmond, Desmond was not a quick hacker. He could manage, but it took longer than he might have.
It was better to just take the laptop along and keep it from connecting with any network. Inside the Temple there was no signal. It was a dead-zone, if you will. Whatever files may be trying to upload to Abstergo databases would fail to upload.
Besides, if Desmond could crack the laptop he could use it. That was a big if though, as Desmond needed to be absolutely certain that it could not be tracked nor hacked by it’s rightful owners. Cracking tech was not exactly his expertise.
There was probably some kind of call-in procedure to ensure the skeleton crew was fine- which they were not. That, or they already had back-up on the way already- which was the worst case scenario for Desmond.
Either way, Desmond needed to make himself scarce. Quickly.
Within ten minutes Desmond managed to destroy most samples and set fire to the tech and files he found in the crates. He also liberated two guns and all of the ammunition he could get his hands on. Guns might not be his preferred weapon anymore, but a bullet sure worked faster than blades did. They were useful when Desmond got into a tight spot.
Lastly, Desmond found a set of car keys which he gladly stole.
On his way out, Desmond sealed the Temple. Thankfully, that was able to be done without the Apple. It was best to lock it and leave it. The less Abstergo could do with it, the better.
There was a van outside as well as an all-terrain truck. If they had not been in the middle of a forest, Desmond would have set fire to the van as well. There was not much in the van, just more tech which was easily destroyed. Desmond stole the van’s battery and the gas, just to mess with the Templars, but other than that he left it be.
While he was ripping out the battery, Desmond spotted a tracker hidden in the vehicle. Thank heavens for that, because Desmond had not even thought to check the car. He would only use it for a little while, just until he found a better option. It was not a safe option to use while on the run, and the tracker was just more proof of that.
Renewed paranoia had Desmond strip the entire truck for anything, but it was only the one tracker.
It had taken almost 30 minutes to get from the metal autopsy table to jumping into the truck and driving off. Longer than Desmond wanted to take, but he had to be thorough if he did not want to end up right where he started.
He started the car and drove through the dense forest towards a road. Preferably, a gas station where he could hot-wire a different car with an unknown licence plate.
He was glad to drive away from that accursed Temple.
-
Joe went to sleep first after they returned.
He was the one with artistic habits and would be able to sketch a face better than the others. His dream had been spotty at best, but with the additional information from Nicky, he managed to draw a mostly accurate portrait.
Andy focused on the room. It a very dark place, with oddly shaped walls and a pedestal. A blue and golden glow which provided the only light there. She also saw a different image than the other four.
An autopsy. Someone had gotten to the man before they had, when he was still dead. It always took time to recover the first time. The first few times. This being the man’s first death meant that reviving had taken most of the day. The odd thing was that the autopsy seemed to take place in the same room as the death had, which was most unusual.
But the autopsy never took place. The man woke up before it could.
Booker managed to see a name; Desmond Miles. Or, ‘subject 17’ as the label on some blood samples stated. It was troublesome. Very troublesome. After the whole initial mess with Copley, it was clear that the Old Guard were not as unknown to the world as they wanted to be.
“A normal sample would not state ‘subject’.” Nile muttered, “Desmond might be in shit trouble.”
“The room did not look like a lab.” Andy pursed her lips, “More like an on-site location.”
“Turin is not a small town, but the forest surrounding it is technically part of it.” Booker cursed, looking up whatever information he could find. “That’s a big area to search.”
Andy rounded Booker to look over his shoulder, “Did you look for the name?”
“It’s still searching. Nothing yet.”
They knew a few things by now.
Their new immortal was named Desmond Miles. Someone considered him a ‘subject’ and if their suspicions were correct, it was not exactly consensual. His last known location was Turin, New York. He died on the 21st of December, but was found only a day later. Someone had found him and had attempted a field autopsy, but Desmond awoke before it could happen.
“Maybe Quýnh will see more.” Joe looked over to where Quýnh was fitfully sleeping.
The first dreams of a new member were never pleasant. They showed the death and made them feel a fraction of the pain their fellow new immortal went through. After that, they were usually less painful. Quýnh’s case had been an exception, due to obvious reasons.
They would only fade when they met Desmond. Until then they would be able to see him. Flashes of his life, whatever he might be doing.
Quýnh was silent when she startled awake. A deep frown on her features as she blinked away the tears which had build up without her permission. No matter how many times one died, it would never stop hurting.
Burning from the inside out was certainly a new sensation.
“He knew he was going to die.” She stated, her voice wavering slightly. Enough for the Andy, Nicky, and Joe to observe it.
They knew her well enough to know that she was upset.
“It didn’t even scare him. He was more resigned to it than anything else. There had been no way out.”
Quýnh’s voice was haunted. None of the immortals they had dreamt of were resigned to their death in the way Desmond was. Like it was an escape, only for it to be an eternal prison.
She remembered feeling like that. When she was trapped underwater, alone and unable to break free.
“If he is still there… with them-” Quýnh spat the word.
“We will get him.” Andy quietly promised.
They would not stop until they did.
-
Desmond drove through the night and only stopped when he found a dark and dingy gas station with no cameras.
There were plenty of those here, Desmond had seen them first hand when they came in. He knew where to find one while still making the most of the gas in the tank.
By first light, Desmond had switched cars and was well on his way up to Watertown International Airport. From there it would become very hard to track him. He could go anywhere he wanted. With his skills, he was not even stuck flying economy, he could sneak onboard of any airplane.
No one would be able to track him, ‘friend’ or foe alike.
The airport was barely secured. It was small, but it was still an international one. Desmond wanted to get his feet on more familiar soil- he needed it. He needed to ground himself. He needed to think. He would not be able to think here.
Nothing was safe. Abstergo’s grip on America was too sturdy. They had people everywhere. They had far less operatives elsewhere. Still too many, but less.
Never, in all his panic, did Desmond even conciser calling in. Calling his dad, or any Brotherhood operative really.
His options were not ideal. It was a small airport with few planes coming and going. Plenty of in-country passenger flights, but few cargo flights. There was only one going out of America if Desmond had to believe the schedule he had nicked of some airport worker.
It was a cargo ship heading for Vienna.
Only twelve days on horseback to get to Constantinople if he rode fast, Desmond’s mind supplied.
Then he remembered it was not the 16th century, and cars existed.
Fuck.
His mind was messing with him again. Going to Europe just to get to a city somewhat familiar. Istanbul. It hadn’t been Constantinople for a very long time. It was Istanbul. The city was old, there was a chance some parts were similar to how it was when Ezio walked them, but much must have changed. There was simply no way it hadn’t.
Rome would be more-
No. Fuck. Stop. No. Rome was dangerous. It was too dangerous. Breaking out of the Abstergo facility had been too recent. Florence wasn’t safe either, not with the Brotherhood operatives there. Monteriggioni was out of the fucking question.
Masyaf?
It was a ruin now. If it even stood still.
Jerusalem?
That could be an option, but Abstergo knew Desmond was familiar with the city.
Constantinople- no, Istanbul. It was fucking Istanbul. Desmond couldn’t get it out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, his stupid fried brain needed to go somewhere familiar. Better it be Istanbul than any place Abstergo knew to find him. Or the Assassins, for that matter. They didn’t know about Istanbul.
How long would that be to drive? Desmond had no clue, nor did he have the means to look it up.
The anxiety Desmond felt had nothing to do with slipping onto the cargo plane and hunkering down for a long flight. It would be miserable. Desmond didn’t have food or water with him, so it would be best to try and sleep through it.
When did Desmond last sleep? It must have been days at this point. It was a miracle he managed to drive as long as he had without causing an accident.
He settled in a shadowed corner of the plane, between crates filled with things Desmond did not bother to check. He sat on the uncomfortable metal floor, his back pressed against the hull of the airplane.
Coming down from a mission was bad. Coming down from whatever happened in the Temple was worse. But when the plane took off, and Desmond knew no enemies had found him before take-off, he settled a bit.
Desmond was cold, shivering as he ducked in on himself to retain what little body warmth he had.
He was safe. As long as the plane was flying, he was safe. Things would probably be different when the plane landed, but Desmond was safe for now. Temporary safety was better than nothing. Desmond could sleep.
Oh fuck, he could sleep.
Feeling ready to cry, Desmond turned to lay on his side, laying curled up in a fetal position. Making himself as small as he possibly could. This was not the come-down, he realised. He was still in fight or flight mode and probably would be until he reached a viewpoint in Istanbul.
The worst of this anxiety was yet to come, but at least Desmond could finally sleep.
-
Nile: *Just trying to sleep*
Nile: *Gets a nightmare with a nice side of sympathy pain*
Nile: wtf was that?! \(”˚☐˚)/
Desmond: Welp…. This is the end for me. A quick and painless death-
Desmond: *Proceeds to die horribly and in a shit load of pain*
Desmond: Fucking Isu (눈_눈)
Old Guard: We’ll save him! (•̀ᴗ•́ )و
Desmond: Please no. Leave me alone. Fuck. ૮(◞ ‸ ◟ )ა