The matrix was different. It was subtle, and at first Desmond couldn't really say he noticed, but since the start-up had to take a while for his first time in the Animus 2.0, he was given plenty of time to look around. It seemed more streamlined, and that distracting fog wasn't present anymore. He sat and waited for his avatar to load.
It'd been a week, give or take, since his life had been turned upside-down. A few hours since he'd been smuggled out of Abstergo's deadly clutches in the trunk of a car. Who knows, he thought to himself, tapping against the plane of the Animus' "floor". Maybe I was in the trunk for another day? Hard to tell.
He'd gotten used to Altair's skin loading up so much faster than this. The Animus 2.0 looked a lot sleeker, and there'd been plenty of smaller, higher-tech looking computers sitting around the room. But then, there was only the three Assassins working on it, and that Shaun guy was supposed to be a historian or something, so that just left Lucy and that Rebecca chick. He knew Lucy could handle things, and Rebecca seemed pretty sure of herself, but at Abstergo there had to have been an entire department worth of people working on the Animus, judging by what he'd seen during the escape.
Abstergo. The Animus. Vidic and Lucy. The Templars and the Assassins, and he'd thought he'd left all that behind him, and kept it in the past. If only...
There was a small jump, like one of those glitches that sometimes showed up and let him view a memory from a different perspective. He startled and looked down. Assassin's robes; white and familiar. The same boots, the same leather belt. Wouldn't they have changed after all that time?
Another glitch-jump and he was flickering randomly between his own jeans and hoodie to the robes and back again. He held up his left hand and watched his ring finger glitch in and out of existence. For a moment it was almost kind of cool.
"Sorry Desmond, I've nearly got you set up. Your full synchronization with Altair means I need a few workarounds, but I'll be done in just a sec. Sit tight, okay?"
Rebecca's voice, replacing the mechanical one of the tutorial-lady, with the same type of mild distortion and distance. Much more personable, though.
He sighed and winced as a glitch lasted longer and flashed more intensely than any before. "Sure thing." He answered the endless white expanse. "Not like I've got anything better to do."
Another flash, a skittering string of code and light flashed across his eyes, and then he was back in his own clothes. He thought he could hear a high pitched ringing for a few seconds before it faded out, and he leaned back on his hands to get comfortable while he waited.
"So you are the one who understands me best?"
Desmond spun on his ass, hopping up into a crouch and pulling his left hand back in a move that would've released his hidden blade if he'd had one. The Altair avatar stood watching him from only a few paces away, uncomfortably close to Desmond's mind.
"...You are not what I expected."
Desmond stood slowly, changing his stance to a defensive fist-fighting style. Altair cocked his head slightly, recognizing the stance intimately.
"Though perhaps I have not been led astray." He murmured.
This's never happened before. Maybe it was the glitching, Desmond thought, slowly relaxing his defense. Maybe this is because of those workarounds, or whatever. It could just be an AI.
"I am Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. And you?" The cowl hid most of his expression, but Desmond could tell that Altair was analyzing every bit of Desmond that the assassin could see. His body language was relaxed, and only his left forefinger moved; playing along the release catch of his hidden blade.
"Desmond Miles." Altair's head turned slightly, and Desmond couldn't help but tense.
"Desmond." Said like that, his name almost sounded exotic. "And how do you know me?"
He entertained the idea of lying for a split second, then shrugged. "I'm related to you." No point in lying to an AI.
"Related?"
"Your descendant."
Altair shifted his weight to his left leg, and Desmond noticed a second later that Altair had mirrored his own unconscious move. He couldn't tell if he'd done it on purpose.
"And how is it you are the one who knows me best?"
Desmond shrugged. "I lived part of your life with you." He offered.
He could practically taste Altair's bemused disbelief.
"Oh?"
"With magic." All technology looks like magic when you don't understand it, or something like that.
Altair gave a small grunt, and stood a little less relaxed. The distant hum of the Animus 2.0 seemed to get louder as the silence continued.
Should I apologize, or something?
Heaving a sudden sigh that had Altair shifting his right foot back, Desmond shook his head and sat back down again. Altair paused and watched as Desmond drew his feet to sit sole to sole and leaned back again on his hands. Rebecca would hopefully be done soon, and he could get back to frying his brain cells on other people's memories. His head lolled back and he shut his eyes against the harsh white of the loading screen.
The rustle of old cloth and leather was nearly drowned out by the Animus 2.0's low background drone. He felt Altair's knee brush against his own, and tilted his head slightly to the right.
He could get me with the hidden blade before I could do anything.
The thought passed through his mind idly, and Desmond opened his eyes again slowly. Leaning back like this, he could just see Altair's eyes under his hood; looking him over, calculating.
"I lived from Solomon's Temple to the first time you picked up the Apple." He offered. Altair said nothing, and they just watched each other for a while longer.
"You are an Assassin."
It was a bit of a non sequitor, and Desmond couldn't help the bark of laughter that was only on this side of bitter.
"I was born to be."
And Desmond wished as hard as he could that this avatar wasn't just an AI replica of the Eagle of Masayf, if only so that the look of total understanding could be real.
"You ran."
"For nine years. From the Assassins and the Templars."
Desmond didn't bother to hide his smirk. Neither did Altair.
"Impressive."
"The Templars caught up to me first. They were the ones who used the magic so they could find the Apple."
A sympathetic nod. Desmond looked out over the endless field and continued nervously.
"An Assassin helped me escape, and I'm with them now. All this," He gestured out at the white expanse. "Is part of the magic. I'm supposed to watch another ancestor, and learn from him next."
"There is always a cost with magic."
"Yeah."
Desmond coughed and tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. Altair waited. It took him a few deep breaths to clear his throat, but Desmond did turn back to make eye contact with this simulation of a legend.
"My mind." He admitted, and took another deep breath to continue. "The longer I do this, the crazier I'll get. I'll start hearing things and seeing things, and eventually I'll just..."
Altair nodded once, curtly, and Desmond pretended that his next breath didn't sound like a sob.
"So, yeah..." He murmured.
A scrawl of code that looked more like the chemical composition of an element skittered its way across the floor and up into the air. Desmond followed its progress, and flinched at the sudden weight on his shoulder.
"You know the tenets of our Creed." It was less a question than a statement, but Desmond turned and nodded anyway.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
Altair's eyes seemed to burn with his intensity, and Desmond couldn't help but lean into that conviction.
"It does not command us to be free..."
"It commands us to be wise." He finished the quote and inched closer, brushing Altair's shoulder with his own. A moment's pause, then the mutilated left hand moved from his shoulder up to grip the nape of his neck.
"Desmond," Altair breathed, and then with a shattering of coding, he was gone.
A disbelieving blink, a disappointed grunt, then the code seemed to swell around Desmond and in another instant he became Ezio Auditore da Firenze.