A/N: i had the rather cracky idea of Desmond and Nezu being experiment buddies, and this is what came of it lol
Desmond seriously didn't get what the universe had with its whole 'let's put Desmond at a mad scientist's mercy' thing, because it had happened too often to be fair. Then again, once was too much, and this was nearing… part three? He definitely counted the genetic engineering to be an event entirely on its own, so three.
One, his entire birth and the circumstances as to why he was born. Second, when he was kidnapped off the street by Abstergo. Third, here, in a place where people were interested in his Quirk, which, actually, did not exist.
0o0
0o0o0
0o0
Okay, so.
When Desmond had placed his hand on the Eye and made the wish to save the world, and get away from all of this, he hadn't really expected anything. Well, other than death, at least. That had been expected. Juno really didn't hide anything from them, too prideful to even think that the lowly humans could understand what she was saying. Which, for knowing what he was getting into, great. Not so great for actually going through with it.
He didn't expect to be shoved sideways. This wasn't his own world, that much was obvious. Oh, it shared cultures and histories and a lot of things that he recognized. Some of which he even had first hand experience in.
There just happened to be one, big, gaping difference between the two.
His world didn't have fucking superheroes.
Oh, they didn't call them superheroes. Just 'Heroes' and by hell if he hadn't heard the proper noun in there. And yeah, they called it 'Quirk' instead of superpower, but it boiled down to the same thing. He had no idea how he had landed into a comic book world.
Not that he had noticed at first. Desmond had placed his hand on the Eye, and after an eternity that likely wasn't more than a minute, woke in the Grand Temple. The Eye and its pedestal were completely gone, the Apple and the Key had disappeared, he had some fancy new tattoos and markings that he absolutely did not think about, and he was alone.
Desmond did tell his dad, Rebecca, and Shaun to get as far away as they could, but he didn't think they'd just disappear. He didn't think that Abstergo would let the Grand Temple be, not with the end of the world on the line, and all of their plans down the drain. No matter what happened, Desmond expected someone to be there.
No, he was alone. The Grand Temple looked the same, and even was in the same area. There simply was no evidence of anyone having been there in ages. No tire tracks, no footprints, no anything.
And when he looked with Eagle Vision, nothing, quite literally, meant nothing.
Though, it seemed that the energy the Eye gave out was like, a steroid on steroids or something, because his Eagle Vision was… well, different was putting it mildly. He put it firmly in the same category about his new tattoos that he was not thinking about, and moved on.
So, instead, he did the Assassin thing and went looking for answers. The nearest town was familiar, but the people in it… were not. It wasn't hard to notice, really. Humans tended not to have odd hair colors, skin colors, or extra appendages. At least not outside of Comic Con, and Turin was a little out of the way for a convention.
Still, Desmond had spent the better part of a decade in New York City. He took a breath, made the appearances firmly not his business, and went to the nearest library.
There, he picked up the newspaper, reserved a computer for the rest of the day, and went into research mode.
0o0o0
Well.
Nothing was True, Everything was Permitted.
Right?
Right.
…
What the fuck was he kidding.
Desmond spent a decade in New York City, he'd actually hit that particular internalization years ago.
0o0o0
Three Things Desmond had Learned About This Crazy New World He Lived In:
1) Superheroes were a thing, as were superpowers. But they were called Heroes and Quirks instead. Because they didn't want to confuse themselves with actual comic book characters, apparently.
2) He had jumped forward in time by roughly two hundred years. In fact, the first recorded Quirks to come about were, in fact, drumroll please, late August of 2013. Which was about nine months after the Flare. Yeah.
3) There was no mention of Abstergo or its children companies, anywhere. Not even companies that could have been. So, still sideways even as he moved forward.
This of course, meant a few things for Desmond.
One, that it was likely there were no Assassins or Templars. It was a stretch, but it lined up with everything else that he had found out. It wasn't an impossibility, just one he wasn't going to expect. If they did, which at this point was a rather large if, then it was in a form that was not recognizable to Desmond in any shape, way, or form.
Two, any possible resources Desmond had prior was now gone. He literally had nothing but the clothes on his back. He didn't even have a go bag, like before. At least he had his hidden blade still. It was a comfortable and familiar weight.
Three… well, he had gotten his wish. Desmond was now away from Assassins, Templars, the Isu, and the collective conspiracies and dramatics associated with them. Later he'd probably feel that particular lack, but right now it was almost a relief.
0o0o0
So.
What was an Assassin to do?
0o0o0
Well, firstly, he needed the necessities. Shelter and food, and the ironclad details of a shiny new identity.
It wasn't the first time Desmond had done this, not by a long shot, but this world was much more advanced than his. Similar, and held back by the wars that popped up after Quirks were a thing, but more advanced. He needed to keep all of his stories and information straight, or someone paying attention would take notice.
So… Miles Guerrero. Miles, obviously, but Guerrero was his mother's maiden name. He'd responded to Miles often enough for it to be comfortable. He kept the same birthday, but just changed the year to match the current year. He'd even kept his basic history the same, with the whole leaving an out of the way commune in the middle of nowhere to figure out his place in the world.
The thing was, he didn't have a Quirk. And he didn't need to do in depth study to know that simply announcing that he didn't have one wasn't a good idea. People in this place were so reliant, so dependent, and had such expectations of personhood in relation to a Quirk that he'd single himself out immediately.
But… for all the things that Assassins did, they didn't lie for lying's sake. For covers, sure, but Desmond really wasn't making a cover. There was nothing he needed to hide from, not like before. This wasn't protecting his identity, this was making it up.
He could say Eagle Vision was his Quirk. By the standards of this time, it worked. But he did not like the idea of using that particular inheritance as a superpower. And Hiding in Plain Sight was only one of the hang ups, there.
Illusions?
That could work, except that was firmly in the situation of things Desmond was not thinking about. It was getting to be a pretty big list, honestly.
...Maybe he could just get away with not saying anything. He had a few other skills that could be mistaken, if not looked closer, as a much lower level Quirk. He'd let people make their own conclusions and not verify anything.
Well. It was a start at least. Now, to look for a place to stay…
0o0o0
It didn't take long to set up. Turns out that the undersociety that he had gotten used to still existed. It wasn't hard to find people who could make him fake IDs and all associated paperwork. He did have to pay them, but doing courier jobs wasn't anything new.
And people still needed someone fast, efficient, and discreet to transport documents and other small items. Not something he honestly expected to do again after he hit his twenty-first birthday and Bad Weather could legally hire him, but whatever paid the bills.
Surprisingly, Desmond found himself enjoying his new life. It was different enough to keep his attention, but similar enough that he fell back into his training with ease. There were still bars that needed bartenders, especially ones well-trained and experienced like him. That he knew some rather 'classic' mixes was a bonus.
(Honestly the best part was that Desmond was catching up on two centuries worth of alcohol and related developments. Fuck, but the drink scene was amazing, he honestly was having the time of his life-)
He also made new friends and coworkers. These were all strangers, with quirks and Quirks of their own, and Desmond sort of felt at peace. He wasn't running or hiding from anything. There was no reason to keep moving from place to place. He could actually settle and make a proper life for himself, and it was… nice.
Yeah. It was nice.
Too bad it couldn't last.
0o0o0
Desmond woke up, groggy, with a hangover to the extreme. Strange, he could hold his drink remarkably well, and knew not to go overboard.
But the feeling of it- that was familiar. He had a headache, and he couldn't move very well. All it was missing was being strapped into a machine that would slowly break his mind.
He blinked, and looked blearily around, and then bit back a curse. It wasn't bright white or empty and lack of color like Abstergo had been, but Desmond recognized a sterile, medical room when he saw one.
"Seriously? Not this shit again."
0o0
0o0o0
0o0
Which is how Desmond ended up here. It wasn't a very nice place, all things considered. Quirks were biological, or worked with the body, and apparently they were curious about his. Desmond honestly didn't know what Quirk they thought he had.
It didn't matter. What mattered was that he was taken to a place that he did not want to be, and wanted out of. Depending on how he was treated, how he escaped would differ. Upper end, just knock everyone out, wipe as much of the computer information as possible, and leave. Lower end… well, just because he did not think about certain things didn't mean he didn't know what possibilities lied there. Especially as a last resort.
So far, it was limited to only physical exercises. Desmond did those easily, well aware that most everyone thought his Quirk was a physical mutation rather than any other power. Something, something, eyes. He honestly never paid attention, and people never asked. Information about Quirks was offered, but never demanded.
He acted rather passive. Assassins tended to react to things rather than make the move on their own, and here he would do the same. It allowed him some liberties, even as he wore thick bracelets on his wrists. They were pretty fancy shackles, and only slightly uncomfortable. He could easily pick the lock on them when he found the proper tools.
Desmond would have done that literally hours after he was kidnapped, save for one thing.
He wasn't the only person here.
There actually were a lot of people here. This group wasn't like Abstergo, who used a singular person until they died, and then picked up someone new. Rather, they constantly kept a group of people, doing many different experiments in the process.
Desmond didn't know, but he had the feeling that his trials were actually the least demanding of them all. Which didn't sit right with him at all. In fact, considering the size of some of the people here… it was rather infuriating. And an Assassin riding the high of righteous fury was much more inclined to do something ridiculously stupid and dangerous.
So, he stuck around, waited, and observed. He wasn't risking only his life by escaping, now. There were others here that he needed to rescue and bring along with him. And to do that, he needed as much information as possible.
They were on a strict schedule, so Desmond could actually keep track of time. Almost a week later, thankfully less insane than his stint in Abstergo left him, and something finally happened.
0o0o0
"Well, that's new," Desmond said, watching the small white… creature.
He couldn't tell what it was, honestly. It seemed to have all the features of a mouse, bear, or a dog. But it was a prisoner same as he was, if that bright, red, new scar along its forehead was any indication. And the shackle it had around its neck, which matched Desmond's.
The small creature stirred from the small pallet it had been placed on, blinking tiredly and wary at the new surroundings it found itself in. It tried to stand on its feet, but hissed in pain and stumbled to the side.
"Take it easy," Desmond said quietly, but made no move to soothe the creature. For one, that seemed like a good way to be attacked in this place. Not even the scientists just barged in when they were asleep.
The creature looked at Desmond, and he very carefully didn't react. That was intelligence in those glittering black eyes. He looked off to the side, keeping his peripheral on the creature, but his direct gaze away. Let the creature decide if Desmond was a threat or not.
They were being observed tightly, but there was no audio surveillance in his room. Oh, the entire cell was blanketed red when he used Shao Jun's ability to look and know when she was in someone's line of sight, but none of it was audio.
And this creature was glowing pale blue and rimmed in gold. A potential ally that glowed with importance, if neutral at the moment. Desmond recognized the colors he had gleamed through the walls. This one was someone he wanted to keep an eye on.
The least he could do was introduce himself. He angled his head away so that the cameras couldn't pick up his mouth when he spoke. "Hey. Could have been much better circumstances, but it's nice to meet you, I guess. My name is Desmond. Though you should call me Miles when the scientists are around."
The creature looked at him, studying him intently.
Desmond wondered what they saw. He knew what he looked like, when people didn't know him. Attractive, but easy to forget. A face that was familiar. Tall and thin. Kind of a background character. Hiding in plain sight was actually one of the skills he mastered when he was a child.
"Nezu," the creature said. Desmond resolutely did not flinch in surprise. Instead, he categorized the sound. It was high pitched, to match the size, and androgynous. There was a hint of an animalistic growl that Desmond, with his messed up priorities as an Assassin, found cute. Nezu sighed heavily, and delicately sat on their haunches. "My name is Nezu."
"An animal with a Quirk, huh?" Desmond asked out loud, but away from them, "I'm guessing that's why they grabbed you too."
Nezu snorted in agreement. "High Spec, they call it. I'm quite literally the smartest person in any given room."
Oh, that was useful. Desmond hummed. "So, why did they place you in here with me, then?"
Nezu eyed him, as if wondering if Desmond was only humouring them or not. "I'm assuming that they found some connection to exploit between the two of us. Have they taken any of your blood recently?"
"Yes," Desmond sighed. Nothing he could really do about it at this point. He just had to find it all and destroy it before he left, is all.
"Ah, you must be one of my donors, then," Nezu said, still watching him.
Desmond went very still for a singular moment, before he sighed and started fidgeting like a normal person. Hopefully their watchers took that as sheer surprise instead of an Assassin's stillness before death. "Well, fuck, I'm sorry about that," he said.
DNA wasn't found only in blood, but blood happened to be one of the easiest carriers of it. And Desmond knew quite well that his DNA was rather… unique, all things told. Fucking genetic engineering.
Nezu appraised Desmond. "You are planning something, are you not?" What a leap of logic to make. Though if their Quirk really was hyper intelligence, it made sense.
Desmond looked to Nezu. If they cared at all, then they didn't show it. If the experiments these mad scientists did to Nezu with Desmond's blood held, at all, then this little creature was now his responsibility.
"You can say that," Desmond said slowly, keeping his face away from the cameras. "How do you feel about a jailbreak?"
Nezu blinked slowly at him. Then they grinned, and it wasn't a very nice grin at all. "Oh, I would not mind at all."
0o0o0
Desmond sighed and stretched his arms above his head, sighing as his spine popped. His wrists were red and rubbed raw from the shackles, but now they were covered with some bandages as they healed.
Nezu had some around his neck as well, and some medicine and smaller bandaids taped over the red scar. It hadn't healed nearly enough to be left as it was, in Desmond's opinion. Everyone else they managed to break free had also been tended to, though some needed more attention than others. There was nothing life threatening, at least.
Behind them, the facility they were in was in disarray. That kind of thing happened when Desmond decided to raid a place. He actually felt kind of proud that there was so little blood, even if the bodies were decidedly numerous. It helped that he had found all vials of his own blood, the rest of the prisoners' blood, and the information the scientists had gathered.
Desmond had made sure to grab as much of it onto a USB as he could before deliberately trashing the place. It helped that they kept their servers in the building. Turns out that their mad scientist lab was illegal! Who knew? Either way, everyone had enjoyed the stress relief after being cooped up for however long they were there for.
Which reminded him.
"Should I stay, or leave?" Desmond asked Nezu, who had climbed to his shoulders, clinging to them tightly. He said he liked the vantage point. Desmond thought he just liked being tall. "Not used to just staying after I kill pretty much everyone in a building, if I'm honest."
"Stay," Nezu said, nudging his cheek affectionately. He was rather tactile, all things considering. Probably the cat in him. And the severe isolation, but that was a sad thought, so Desmond pushed it aside. "You have a life you were taken from, you said. All of these people were Villains, and the Heroes and police will understand why you did it."
"You sure?" Desmond asked dubiously. Times were modern enough that he was certain the police would have issues with a single man killing more than a dozen people.
"It was clearly self defense," another of the prisoners pointed out. They had deep blue skin and pastel blue hair and eyes. Desmond liked them because they had the rather handy Quirk of hydrokinesis, and had helped clean everyone up. Turns out killing a bunch of people tended to be messy, if you weren't trained in it like Desmond was. "And you weren't the only one to kill people."
No, no he was not. Not by a long shot. Not everyone did, but neither did anyone here really feel particularly guilty about what had happened, either. Even those with the worst hang ups grit their teeth as they took care of the four children Desmond had found in other cells.
Desmond sighed. He really wasn't used to sticking around after he had killed people. Not even with people who knew that he had killed prior to this, during this, and likely would again. Not that he thought anyone would tattle, really, but it was still unusual.
What was even more unusual was that these people didn't seem to care. Yeah, being experiments for some mad scientists sort of skewed their priorities, but you'd think they'd throw up more of a fuss at the sudden jailbreak.
Either way, he had somehow ended up as the leader of this motley group of people. Modern times these may be, but it seemed that he ended up with a bunch of Assassin-adjacent people. Kind of reminded him of the people Connor had actually found and brought to the Homestead, actually. Good people overall who might not go for murder as their first option, but it wasn't off the table, either.
"Yeah, okay," Desmond said, shrugging, careful with the motion since Nezu was riding his shoulders. "I guess we should call the police."
A/N: if you could please leave a review on your way out, that'd be great
