Chapter 1: Limbo Party!

Desmond was dead. At least, that's what he thought. After touching the pedestal, it was to be expected and his surroundings did resemble most stereotyped afterlives.

Everywhere was white. Not blindingly so, otherwise he would've considered that he was actually in some kind of messed up Hell where his eyes were being cruelly punished for all the bad deeds he'd committed. There was just a formless white mist as far as the eye could see. It seemed so surreal, almost like being in the Animus again, but it was more personal matters that really got his attention.

Desmond realised he was completely naked.

Feeling very self conscious, he sprung like a loaded trap into the fetal position, hiding his manly parts from any unseen eyes. His own eyes frantically scoured the empty space for something wearable and settled on a pile of neatly folded clothes.

Strange, he thought. He would have sworn that they weren't there before.

After donning the familiar black T-shirt, jeans and white hoodie, he noticed that the mist was becoming something more solid. Four walls and a roof enclosed him as furniture filled the empty room. A bar sat in the corner of the mostly deserted room. Behind it were shelves stacked to capacity with bottles of varying liquids, most alcoholic. Tables were spread around the fringes of the room and the door to outside stood in front of him invitingly. Everything was very white.

The place looked familiar, and something itched in the back of his mind, like he should know where he was. After a moment of intense pondering, it clicked. Desmond couldn't believe it took him as long as it did but then again, it felt like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was a lifetime ago. He was in an exact replica of Bad Weather, the nightclub he worked in before he was kidnapped by Abstergo and was once again caught up in the Assassin/Templar war. It was completely devoid of life, except for him and two somewhat familiar figures sitting at a table.

Desmond approached the supposedly long dead 'gods'. "Where are we?" he asked.

"That is a question only you can answer," Jupiter replied, his helmet reminding the human of the beaked hoods his ancestors wore. "Sit with us, Desmond," the 'god' said, pulling out a third chair for the Assassin. Desmond did as he was told.

"It looks like a bar I used to work at," said Desmond, "Just white and empty... And a lot cleaner," he added as an afterthought.

Minerva faintly smiled at the last comment before replying, "Limbo always takes on a different appearance to each person."

"Limbo?" Desmond asked, uncomprehending, before it sunk in, "...I'm really dead, aren't I?"

"Yes and no," Jupiter answered.

"In the living world, then yes. By your standards, your body is technically dead. However, your soul has not passed on yet," elaborated Minerva.

"Passed on?" said Desmond.

"Do you choose to keep on working?" Jupiter mused, pointing at the bar before gesturing towards the door, "Or is it the end of your shift?"

"I just have to hop behind the counter and I'll be alive again?" Desmond enquired, hopeful. The rational side of his brain told him that it just wouldn't be that easy. Experience had taught him that whenever the First Civilisation was involved, things were never simple.

"Not quite," answered Minerva, "The pedestal burned out your former body, making it inhabitable."

"So, I'll just be a ghost or something," said the former bartender, disappointment evident in his voice.

Minerva shook her head. "Only certain types of people have access to that option. Muggles such as yourself need a vessel to inhabit in order to exist in the mortal plane."

"...So I can't go back," stated Desmond, silently debating whether what she just called him was an insult or a compliment. He assumed it was the former. "Then why the heck did you have to tell me all that?" he exclaimed, leaning back on two chair legs and throwing his hands up, "What's wrong with just letting me move o-?"

"Because we can't, not with Juno free!" Jupiter shouted, shooting an accusing glare at the human's direction.

"What the heck am I supposed to do? I'm dead and can't go back, remember? Or did you forget that one tiny detail when you were too busy planning on how to hijack someone else's life for your own purposes?" said Desmond, "Or here's a smart idea, why can't someone el-!"

"We can help you go back!" interjected Jupiter. That got Desmond's attention, as his chair clattered noisily back onto four legs.

"But you just said-" he started, only to be cut off once again.

"All we said is that you require a body to inhabit, and your old one is uninhabitable. Thus, you need a new vessel. That is where we come in, on one condition. Use this chance to stop Juno and we shall make you a new one, a better one," explained Minerva.

"How? And what do you mean 'better'?" asked Desmond.

Minerva hesitated, unsure on how to phrase her words. Jupiter stepped in. "Being us has its advantages. Desmond," he said, "Do you believe in magic?"

Desmond stared at them. "Of course not," he said, "Anything considered such is just a scam or the result of POE activity. Right?" he added uncertainly.

Jupiter shook his head. "Members of the First Civilisation had the ability to manipulate objects and people by utilising an... aura, for lack of better words, that only we were born with. Humans and even hybrids such as yourself lacked it. That is, until Hecate started tinkering with her hybrid offspring. She discovered a certain gene of ours that was rendered dormant with the addition of human DNA. Once activated, the humans in question generated an aura weaker than ours and were able to employ it, albeit with the assistance of aids. Without them, unless they have the necessary expertise, they couldn't perform or control their powers with any precision."

"So, using these powers, you're going to make me a new body and modify it so I can use 'magic' as well?" said Desmond, the whole thing seeming absurd to him. Then again, 6 months ago, if someone told him he'd be kidnapped by a pharmaceutical company hellbent on conquering the world, be drawn into a war that's been going on behind the scenes for thousands of years, use a device created by an ancient, extinct race of godlike beings to control humans and sacrifice himself to save the Earth from an apocalyptic solar flare, he would've asked them if they were drunk.

"Indeed," said Jupiter.

"According to Hecate's research, the gene in question is independent and much more hereditary than those required to activate our POEs and Eagle Vision, so there is a high chance of a colony of witches and wizards living in the world nowadays. From them, you can learn how to utilise your powers. However, just in case, we will also be bringing back someone to help you learn," informed Minerva.

"Who?" said Desmond, his curiosity aroused.

"You will find out in due time," Jupiter mysteriously replied, a twinkle in his eye, "Do not worry. You will be able to trust him. Now go." He held a hand out towards the bar. "Ready to keep on working?"

Desmond got out of his chair, its legs scraping against the floor as it slid back, and took a few hesitant steps towards the counter before a thought crossed his mind.

"If you are able to bring people back from the dead," he said, twisting his head around, "Why don't you just resurrect yourselves?"

"We do not bring people back from the dead," Minerva corrected, "Once a soul has moved on, it requires magic far greater than our own to call it back. Also, to answer your question, although you were created in our image, our bodies are far more complex than a mere human's. We are unwilling to test what happens when a soul inhabits a body not designed for it."

"After Aita..." Jupiter trailed off, his and Minerva's eyes clouding at the thought. Despite it happening long ago, it was still a sore point for the both of them. Time, instead of healing the wound, only made it worse. With very little to occupy themselves in the emptiness of Limbo, they've had a long time to reflect on their failure at preventing the First Disaster.

"Oh," Desmond simply said, feeling awkward. He opened the doorway and walked though.

"So this.. Desmond you speak of, you say he requires my assistance?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"A friend once told me about a man named Desmond. He said a moving painting of Minerva spoke to him as if Desmond was listening through him."

"He was. Ezio was his eyes and ears, the Prophet for my warning."

"If everything is as dire as you say, then it would be wrong for me not to return."

"It is even worse. Ultimately, you Assassins fight for free will. If you do not go, then you would fail and it would be taken from everyone. Not only Templars strive for dominance."

"If your words are only lies, then returning would be condemning myself to walk the Earth forever."

"Now is not the time to play sceptic. What do we have to gain by lying to you?"

"My many enemies would like to see me suffer for eternity."

"None of them can do what we can. We do not mean you any harm. All we wish to do is to stop Juno."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Our powers are not strong enough to send us back. We cannot build the vessel needed to hold our souls. If Desmond fails, then all will be lost. He will need your help to stop Juno."

...

"Si, I will do as you asked." Then he returned.

I can just tell I'm going to regret starting this (especially with no plot in mind), but this idea has been floating around in my head for a while. Wonder if anyone will actually find this...