(Up until now chapter one and two of this story have been posted on DA, if you've read them feel free to skip to chapter 3)

My little misadventure started one day when I was innocently strolling down the high street. I was evidently going somewhere at the time, because it's not like me to be randomly strolling around on a dank drizzly London afternoon. All the same, I can't say I remember what it was I was doing before that strange bloke in the white hoodie came barrelling down the street, sprinting passed me and nearly knocking both of us over.

I fought to keep my footing, wincing as his trainers made an ear wrenching screeching sound as they scraped across the pavement. Eventually he came to a halt and whirled around, looking back passed me to somewhere down the street, terror in his dark brown eyes. I looked back at him, still too confused to be annoyed about his lack of respect for my personal space.

As we stare at each other, a light of recognition entered his eyes, and I began to get that awkward feeling I have whenever I realise someone thinks they know me, but I have no idea who they are. I did my best not to show any outward signs of my confusion as I gave him another look over. Racking my brain for any memory of a short raven-haired, serious looking brown eyed bloke.

"Shaun? What are you doing out here?" he asks perplexedly, cutting in on my memory searching. I was stunned for a second.

Now there were many things I have been called in my many years on this planet. There was Dan, Danny, Daniel, D-man, Danny boy, and sometimes if the person in question was really posh they'd call me Mister Wallace. But never in my life had I been called Shaun, and Last time I checked that wasn't my name.

However with this sudden development came a sense of relief, because now that I had self established that I was never called Shaun, I was sure that he and mistaken me for someone he knew, and that he wasn't someone I had rather embarrassingly forgotten. I gave him my best apologetic look, I was about to do the rational thing and tell him politely that he must be mistaken and that I wasn't who he thought I was. But my well meant and good natured apology was cut off when a shout came from down the street.

I caught a glimpse of worry and fear in the other mans eyes before both of us turned our heads. The attention quickly fell to the irritated looking platoon of armed guards who were tearing down the street behind us. Presumably this was the reason that the hoodie-clad man had been running in the first place, although my thoughts on this were short-lived, because while I have never been chased by a platoon of armed guards before, I have watched enough television and movies to get the impression that standing still in such a situation was never the smartest thing to do.

It seemed my newfound acquaintance agreed with me on that point, because it was then that he took hold of my arm and almost physically dragged me down the street that I had been until now been peacefully strolling on.

For the first few meters I kept pace just fine, but soon an awful burn began to grow in my chest and we had barely cleared the second block before I found myself struggling to keep up with him. A fact that I found rather disconcerting at the time, because sure, I was no track star, but I worked out! I ate my organic carrot batons and fair-trade bananas. I even took yoga thanks to a misguided insinuation from my friend Colin.

But when I spared a glance back at our pursuers, and realised they were far behind us, I grasped the fact that it wasn't my own physical ineptitude that was causing me to fall behind, but that my companion was moving abnormally fast.

If it wasn't for the fact that it would have sounded rather stupid to ask for someone to slow down when you're running away from a potentially life threatening situation, I certainly would have done so. Fortunately, it seemed he was getting the picture from my increasingly laboured breathing, and the growing tension on his arm as my movement became more like being dragged behind him than running alongside.

Suddenly, we whirled around and I found myself being pulled into an alley leading off the high street. A sharp yank on my arm, followed by a stab of dull pain as it was nearly pulled out of its socket from the unexpected change in direction. The unforgiving stone of one of the alley walls knocked the wind from my lungs as I was flung against it. In a second, the firm hands of the hooded man were pressing against my chest, forcing my body further into the wall. A sharp hiss of "stay here!" came uncomfortably close to my ear, and then he was gone.

When I looked back up he had already mounted a dumpster and latched onto the stone wall. Slipping his fingers into the small cracks in the brickwork, climbing up the wall in a fashion that I could only compare to Spiderman.

And that's when it hit me, this bloke must be a superhero! How else would you explain the mob of men trying to kill us? They were obviously the Henchmen of some evil villain, who had discovered the hero's secret identity and decided to attack him when he was out doing his shopping! And what dastardly villains they were, interrupting on someone's shopping! Mind you, I don't know much about Hero/Villain relationships but that seemed just a little rude to me.

But now, here I was, a lonely Citizen who happened to be caught in the middle. I looked back up to see that he had made it to the wrought iron fire escape on the side of the old building, and was fiddling with the rusted ladder release. I made up my mind then and there that despite the fact I had no marketable superpowers, I was still going to do everything I could to help this hero make his gallant escape back to his superhero cave. (Which was probably cleverly hidden under big Ben.)

The ladder hit the ground with a metallic clang and I caught a glimpse of the supposed super hero leaning over the edge. "Shaun! Come on man! The Templars are gaining." He called, pointing to the ladder like it wasn't already obvious what he wanted me to do.

The words dropped a stone in my stomach. Oh bollocks, I'd completely forgotten about the whole mistaken identity thing. I shifted on my feet guiltily, I really should come clean to him. After all it would be much easier for him to make his escape without me, and at this point continuing to pretend to be someone else would more than likely lead to some really awkward situations.

For all I knew he could have mistaken me for his super-powered sidekick. What if we get to the edge of a roof top, and he suddenly expects me to use my heat vision to make a bridge out of a nearby radio tower? Then what would I do?

Of course there was also the guards to think about... but if I could explain that I wasn't really associated with this guy they would probably let me be. In fact, having that little dealing with me would probably delay them for long enough to insure the hero's escape. Brilliant! Two birds, one stone.

I was about to call up to the other man to explain, when I heard the first gunshot. Pure terror shot through my body like a lightning bolt and before I knew it I was halfway up the ladder. My heart beating impossibly fast in my chest. Luckily, it seemed that whatever guns were being used they weren't good enough to take direct shots just yet. I just made it to the rooftop's edge when the second bullet was fired, missing my foot by centimetres and burying itself into the brickwork, tiny pieces of liberated stone and concrete sent flying.

The hooded man reached down to help me up. Waiting patiently 'till I had scrabbled up the side and collapsed on the hot tile of the roof. Then after pausing a moment to make sure I wasn't going to pass out, He turned his attention to our pursuers who were attempting to follow us up the building.

Cool as the proverbial cucumber, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hand-sized oval. Sparing me a sideways smirk, he pulled a tiny piece of metal from its side and dropped it onto the middle landing of the fire escape.

I watched it fall. So did the armed guards, who promptly scattered to avoid it. Some even going so far as to jump to the ground, seemingly forgetting about the two story drop. A hand wrapped tight around my wrist and I was wrenched away before I could see any more of the action below, but the ground shaking explosion and shockwave of sound that followed us as we made our escape over the rooftops was more than enough to confirm my suspicions about what it was.

Now that the danger had been alleviated… or more literally blown up, the trek across the rooftops was taken at a much more human pace. Because this was a main shopping district, the stores were crowded fairly close together on this street, so the jumps from one building to another were easily manageable, though not any less exhilarating. Despite myself, I was starting to get that action hero feeling again. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop with ease, switching from hot tiles to flat gravel as we passed the different roofing types. It was almost exactly like something out of a comic book. In fact, the only way this could be more perfect was if we had long flowing capes and were wearing our pants over our trousers.

As we continued along, I tried to keep pace with the hooded stranger. Well, at least I was until he suddenly stopped short at the end of the rooftops and looked over the edge. I trotted up behind him and followed where he was looking. Observing a large metal rubbish bin at the bottom of this second alley.

Confused for a second, I wondered why we had stopped to stare at this. Then as I gazed back up to the hooded man and saw how he was looking back at me apologetically, realization came crashing down.

"Oh bloody hell no..."

"I know you hate doing this, but it's the quickest way down." He explained, shrugging his shoulders like it would only inconvenience me a little if we jumped.

Forget superhero! This man was a lunatic... I began to back away slowly, but he was having none of it. He took a few steps forward. Once again not seeming to care when he got to close for comfort. He nonchalantly locked his arms around my back, drawing us closer together. Holding me like we were a couple of teenagers slow dancing at prom. As opposed to one stark raving mental who was about to jump of a building and take a poor guiltless bystander with him.

"It's going to be okay, just close your eyes and count to ten." He cooed, in a manner not to dissimilar to a dentist reassuring his patient that it would only hurt "a little" despite the fact they both knew it was a lie and that the next few moments would be very painful indeed.

He took a few steps back, drawing us closer to the edge. I fought back obviously but to be perfectly honest I knew I hadn't the slightest chance, this bloke could climb up walls like fucking Spiderman!.. And in the end there wasn't much I could do... He didn't even have the decency to allow me the time to really start panicking before he shifted his weight back sending both of us off the edge.

Now, I suppose you've more than likely heard that when someone has a near death experience their life will flash before their eyes, or they'll see some light at the end of a tunnel, or the kind face of whatever deity they believe in welcoming them into his loving arms, while winged angels play "amazing grace" on their harpsichords.

I do not by any means pretend to be a master on the subject, and it is not my place to tell those who say they have had those kinds of experiences that they must be embellishing the story. However, I can tell you that for me there were no such godly occurrences, just the whoosh of air and the overly unsettling feeling of falling followed by a final "thump!"

At first everything was black, and for a second I was sure I was dead. Then I realized my arm was covering my eyes. I slowly removed it, peeking out from under the fabric of my jacket sleeve to find myself surrounded by puffy black rubbish bags. At first this might not sound too strange. After all when jumping into rubbish bins one would expect to find rubbish, but you have to understand that these in particular were awfully soft for rubbish bags.

A few curious pokes revealed that Instead of rubbish they were full of some sort of spongy substance, perhaps some type of foam or packing material. I pushed it out of the way and made an effort to sit back up, but I ended up just sliding back farther into the pushy mess.

I struggled for a few more seconds before it dawned on me that pushing the bags around was a lot more effective than trying to prop myself up on them, and so would have begun the laborious process of digging myself out. However once I had moved a few more out of my way I found the other man lying back comfortably among the bags, satisfied smile on his lips. "In case you haven't figured it out, this isn't a real dumpster." he clarified, grabbing the side and hauling himself up onto the edge of the rubbish bin. "It's one of the fake ones the other assassins set up. You know, because there aren't many haystacks in downtown London."

He patted the metal on the side of the can as if thanking an old dependable friend, before finally swinging himself out and over to the pavement below, offering his hand to help me do the same. Glad to have an easy way out of this rubbish bin equivalent of quicksand, I took it. Thoroughly enjoying my reunion with the ground as I stepped down onto the pavement.

"Although, I just have to say the look on your face was absolutely priceless." The hooded man added giving me a playful pat on the back. Laughing off the unamused stare I gave him in return. "Come on we can walk the rest of the way." He promised heading to the exit of the alley. Reluctantly, I followed him out.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, stepping back, allowing me to walk passed him into a sparsely furnished living room. A few chairs and a sofa were arranged pell-mell around the room. One bizarre looking Red and white chair sat alone by the far wall among a complex array of wires, cords, and computer screens. To tell the truth, the whole thing looked like it was set up in a rush by piss drunk movers in the middle of the night.

I turned to my companion, who once inside had stopped to side his hood off his short black hair. He looked around the room, calling out to the empty flat "Hey Lucy! Rebecca!" When he didn't receive an answer he rolled his eyes at me in 'they all ways do that' sort of way and made for the stairwell, presumably to look for them.

I sighed deeply as soon as he was gone, relieved that I finally had some time to think about Just how I ended up in this stranger's flat. Of course the stickiest part of the whole situation was that this stranger was still more than likely convinced I was a guy named Shaun, and amazingly this accidental deception had lasted throughout that period of my life I had decided to generously title an "adventure" but it was slowly dawning on my that once things calmed downed and he realized that I didn't know my own favourite flavour of tea things would go to hell.

Frankly, my imagination couldn't even stretch for enough to fathom how this (possibly super-powered) chap would react at that moment of apprehension, and for those who are familiar with my usual capacity for thinking up disastrous outcomes, you can appreciate how bad this was.

Inadvertently, I started looking for escape routes and it didn't take me long to make the correct presumption that the door I had just entered through was a much better option than trying one of the windows. I wavered on my heals for a second. Baring in mind that running away is usually not a good way to solve ones problems, now might be a good idea to give it a chance.

"Looks like the girls went out."

I started and turned to face the man I had been spent the better part of my morning following. He was standing at the bottom of the steps, leaning casually against the wall. I nodded back vaguely, silently morning my thwarted escape plan.

Oh-so-casually he stepped away from the wall and circled back around, standing between me and my hoped escape route. His eyes focused on me, sweeping from head to toe, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. My heart sank, I was sure that now he had a good look at me he would've figured it out.

But as I started to work out an apology in my head, he took a few steps closer and placed a hand rather brazenly to my chest, fiddling with the zip of my jacket for a moment before commenting; "I like the new clothes, you should wear jeans more often."

Errrr... I didn't quite know what to say to that. So I just faked a smile, which quickly vanished as he gripped the piece of metal and slowly and unzipped my jacket. In response, I took a step back uncertainly, because, as you can imagine I am fairly unaccustomed to strangers unzipping my jackets.

However my new acquaintance seemed to have other plans and I soon found myself haphazardly pushed down on the couch, my hips being lazily straddled by the other man. Our Jeans rubbing up together as he settled in my lap, the ensuing friction making me quite uncomfortable in places I'd rather not mention.

"Umm…What are you doing?" I asked, my mind still too shocked by the sudden turn of events to supply me with the obvious answer. An eyebrow was raised but quickly disappeared back into that hungry glare.

"You know the rules. While the girls are away, Shaun and Desmond get to play." He chanted back his arms wrapping around my shoulders pulling us closer together. "Provided we don't wake the neighbours" he added with a smirk, leaning in and pressing his lips to the exposed skin just above the collar of my shirt.

Given that it was the middle of the day, it was unlikely anyone was asleep and I suspected this was more innuendo to me than actual concern for any of the people in the other flats. It seemed that with every passing second this mix up was getting more out of hand, and the sooner I managed to explain to err... Desmond wasn't it? Yes, the sooner I explained things to Desmond the better. I'm sure after this was all sorted out he would just let me go and we could all have a laugh about how silly this was.

But as I tried to speak up, the words were lost under an involuntary groan that made me suddenly realize how hard it is to talk when someone's giving you a love-bite, even if it is an unwilling one. His lips were firmer and his grip was tighter than the feminine kind I was used to, and it was making it very hard to stay focused.

"Ah, listen um... Desmond there must be-" I began, barely making it halfway through the sentence before the gentle nipping on my neck stopped and Desmond interrupted. "-And you say I talk to munch" he muttered rolling his dark brown eyes at me, moving in to take my lips before I had another second to protest, pressing into me till my head was resting against the back of the sofa. Cementing my entrapment.

I tried to shake my head, buck my hips, something! But no matter what I tried Desmond just kissed back harder, to him all my movements and surprised grunts were just the struggles and moans of a wanton lover.

One of his hands moved from where it was resting on my hip, they hand lifted and he hooked his fingers into the rim of my glasses, casually removing them and causing the world more than a few centimetres from my nose to lapse into one big fussy indistinctness. I heard rather than saw him place them back down, before the hand that had removed them found a brief respite on the front of my trousers.

I tried to struggle a little more beneath his muscular frame desperately trying to get the message across that I wasn't into this, but it was getting harder... Because well, he had removed my glasses...

That's one of the things about being short sighted. Without my specs everything dissolves into blurry shapes and when that sense is blunted you tend to draw back into your own mind. All of a sudden the real world seems just a little further away and it becomes easer... easer to think, relax, submit...

I felt determined fingers beginning to unfasten my belt buckle and in a grand testament to how my mind was slipping, for a moment I found myself wondering if I was wearing the pants with the goofy polka dots on them, like whether or not I was wearing decent undergarments was the most important thing to be worried about right now.

My belt gradually slid out of its belt loops and my Jeans go loose around my hips. Desmond's hands find my own and soon the very same piece of leather that had been around my hips is being tightened around one of my wrists. He grips the second wrist and glides it next to the first, pinning my hands above my head then binding them together with the makeshift restraints. I blinked up at the White and tan blob that was the man who was so lustfully pinning me down, terrified of what he would do next…


Shaun Hastings was not having a good day. It had been nearly three hours since he had left to do some grocery shopping. The mundane task falling to him like always, while the "real" assassins went gallivanting off after the Knights Templar like lemmings off a cliff.

Sadly, his absence from London for a good few years had not done a great deal for his sense of direction, and getting lost in the overcrowded city was as annoying and tedious as it was inevitable. he had gotten lost a total of five times since he left the local Tesco and that combined with a smattering of typical London drizzle, had created a foul mood that even the comfort of being back in his own country and the ability to finally be able to buy decent scones, couldn't overturn.

So when Shaun finally returned to the assassin's flat-turned-hideout to find his boyfriend of three months with his hand down the pants of another man? Well there wasn't even a word for how enraged he was.

the shopping bags hit the floor, giving Desmond only a seconds warning for when his hood was grabbed and tugged violently backward until he ended up sprawled eagle on the hardwood floorboards. Brown eyes looked up with an anger that soon changed to intense confusion as he saw Shaun standing over him. Wearing different clothes, still in possession of his glasses, and his hands not tied together with his own belt.

Shaun's attention shifted from his disloyal boyfriend to the man he had been fawning over, who was scrunched up on the other end of the sofa his hands still bound, eye staring but clearly unfocused. It occurred to Shaun that he looked ridiculously familiar. Then it clicked and his heart skipped a beat, anger quickly being overshadowed by many more confusing emotions.

He Ignored Desmond who was still on the floor looking from Shaun to his lookalike, his jabbering reminiscent of a confused dodo bird. The British assassin walked over to his double and freed his hands, resting the belt on the sofa before trying to locate the glasses he knew the other wore.

The pieces of this situation slowly came together as he searched. It didn't take a master of forethought and planning, (which he definitely was) to add up Desmond's confusion and the presence of his body double, to get a vague idea of what had happened in his absence. Of course he didn't know all the details, but those could be explained by Desmond after they got this little mater shorted out.

Finding the desired pair of spectacles in the space under the sofa, Shaun retrieved them and passed them to his twin, Danny took them cautiously. Shaun mentally crossed his fingers hoping that Danny recognised him even after all this time, which he later realised was a rather daft notion all he had to do was look in a mirror to know what Shaun looked like.

Thankfully, once Danny had been rejoined with his specs and finally looked back up at his savour, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped, regarding Shaun as if he had just seen a ghost.

Shaun smiled awkwardly unsure of how to address someone who you haven't seen or talked to in the last seven years. "Afternoon Daniel…." He started, and then got stuck and finishing lamely with "long time no see..." Danny gazed back at him, seemingly as lost for words as his doppelganger.

In an effort to break the uncomfortable silence, Shaun shifted his attention over his shoulder to glare at Desmond, who had gotten up off the floor in the last few minutes but was still looking horribly bewildered. A spike of vindictiveness set off in Shaun's mind and He promptly decided that an excellent way to clear things up and begin his revenge on Desmond, was to go ahead and drop the bombshell.

"Desmond, I would like you to meet my twin brother Danny."


I felt like an absolute idiot, someone named Shaun who could be mistaken for me? That should have been obvious. Maybe it was just after all those years since he had disappeared part of me wouldn't let myself remember the times when we used to get mistaken for the other on a dally basses. Or perhaps I wouldn't let myself believe he would ever be a part of my life again.

Thare was a lot of explaining that would need to be done, because none of this made any sense. I half expected to wake up to discover this had been some kind of nonsensical dream. However I didn't wake up and we just kept looking at each other. I don't remember thinking I should hug him but I ended up doing it anyway. The aching that had started somewhere deep inside my chest dulling as he returned the gesture.