Prologue:

As my fingers glide over the smooth keyboard, my heart thumps wildly in chest and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I feel as if I cannot breath, like I am trapped and I know time is running out but that's just it – it is.

"Shit," I hiss as I hit the wrong key and a brief 'error' message flashes across the screen.

Error: file not found the computer intoned, its voice vibrating throughout the large and largely empty – since the room was filled with hard-drives and blank screens – complex.

"What'd you do?"

"I hit the wrong key," I inform the voice crackling over my earpiece, my eyes scanning the lines of boundless information scrolling down the screen in an endless, quick succession.

"Idiot, you can't screw this up."

"I know, Hastings," I assure him, pausing momentarily in my search, "we need to do this. For Desmond."

Silence.

"You still there, Shaun?"

"Yeah," he responds, his voice edged with a hint of exhaustion and maybe even a hint of regret – of course, he'd never admit it. "Look," he begins, once again interrupting my newfound concentration. I hesitate on the keys and wait for him to continue, hoping that I don't miss the file as he lectures.

"You're running out of time. Just leave it; we already have tabs on that new researcher and you need to get out of there-"

"No," I answer, cutting him off mid-sentence, "I need to this. I made a promise."

"To Desmond? Hate to break it to you, but he's dead."

"They're using his DNA to find us, to find the others," I retort, angry tears blurring the computer screen before me. Hastily, I wipe a hand across my eyes, subconsciously lifting my chin in defiance, "I refuse to let that happen."

"Tessie," Shaun sighs and I can picture him now, slumped forwards in his seat with his head in his hands. I know that he knows that I am right – it's simply too dangerous and impractical to leave without attempting the gather the file; the advantage this subterfuge offers is too great to ignore and it's simply unrealistic for us to depend on a stranger hired by the enemy.

"Shaun," I continue, aware that I have him hooked, "I can do this. Trust me."

"I do."

Patiently, I wait for Shaun to make up his mind. Despite my 99.9% certainty that he will agree, if I am wrong and he declines, ordering me back to our hideout, then I will have no choice but to obey. He's my superior; I'm only a foot solider.

"Fine," he eventually states, obviously exasperated with my stubbornness but unable to deny the advantages this mission presents, "five minutes, Tessie, you have five minutes. If you don't manage to get the file, then Rebecca and I are going to march into that control you and drag you out kicking and screaming."

"Relax," my fingers resume their dance and, filled with a fierce desire to prove myself, increase tempo, "I've got this."

"Five minutes," came the response before he clicked off the line.

Now focused, I scan the multitude of text that bombards the screen, clicking into and out of different videos, glossing over unnecessary information. Files fill the screen with a single click of a key and I know I'm almost there, so close to achieving our goal. Struggling to contain my excitement, I shift through the horde of files upon files and then finally – finally – I see it.

The file I need.

The key to our success.

"I've found it, Shaun!" I cry into the earpiece.

Would you like to access the Sample 17 Project? The feminine, computerised voice of the system intoned, the message filling the screen with big, bolded lettering.

As the adrenaline begins to fade, I realise two things. One, Shaun hasn't replied to my message. Two, it's been more than five minutes.

Rebecca wouldn't be stupid enough to stroll into Abstergo, she had a secure job here that provided valuable inside information, as did Shaun, and so I knew that they wouldn't be marching through the compound in search of me. Therefore, it was strange that I received no response from my headphone – even eerier was the lack of static over the line. The communicator was never offline; at least, it was never offline in the middle of a mission, particularly when there was a member in the complex of the enemy.

Enough, I tell myself, pulling out of my pocket the hard drive Shaun gave me, you have specific instructions. Grab the data, attempt to corrupt the source and get out before they find you.

Easier said then done.

Would you like to access the Sample 17 Project? The computer repeated.

"Yes," I mutter in reply, fumbling with the USB.

The USB flies out of my hand, spinning across the floor and under one of the Abstergo monitors. I spend a second realising my error before obscenities fly from my lips and panic begins to set in. "Shit," I cry, scrambling to my knees and peering under the monitor, reaching for the tiny hard drive hidden amongst the dust bunnies, discarded paper clips and loose bits of paper.

Grab it, Tessa, I urged myself, straining to touch the USB, grab it.

My fingers graze the small surface and with a cry of happiness and relief, I snatch the black device into my hand and rise to my feet. Yet, before I turn back to the computer, I feel sudden and intense pain explode from the back of my skull.

The last coherent thought I have before I black out is, wow, how cliché.

A/N:

Hello... so this is my first fan fiction (YAY! ^_^) so I apologise in advance for any mistakes made... so I'm going to try and aim to update every 2 weeks (since I'm in my final year of highschool, it's going to be difficult but I'll do my best)... enjoy

AshTree13