AN: There were very little changes to cannon last chapter: I think Desmond took public transportation or walked. I, however, left the house a little late, so I had to ride the motorcycle. Because of this, they had to apprehend me a little sooner so I couldn't reach my vehicle. The ended up simply knocking me out, rather than blindfolding Desmond and leading him into the van.
Nothing really changes from canon for this chapter, just the motivations behind what's happening. Oh, and yes, the summary did change. Was it an improvement?
This entire chapter was 6 minutes and 18 seconds of gameplay. I've started recording the game, and that's how I get the dialogue. It took 3 hours to just type it out before going back and doing a lot of little editing… Oh God, how long will it take to write the entire story, the tens of hours of gameplay if it takes me 30 times as long to type it up? … Mostly joking, I should be able to put more than 1 ten-minute recording once there's a little less dialogue… which won't be for a while. *Weak smile*
A C – S I
Chapter 2 – Those who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow
I felt myself slowly become aware, the world beginning to return. My mind was filled with a numb haze as it slowly came back online, thoughts moving sluggishly and not processing properly. I struggled to open my eyes and see where I was, but my head began to spin and the world swirled around me. I managed to take a single step forward without falling, blindly reaching out while the world righted itself. I could see now, everything cast in a strange and shaky blue hue, but the world was still filled with a painful haze. Everything around me seemed to have lost most of its color, pale shapes and forms dancing around me and shaking in the background.
The world began to flash red with pain as words filled the garden. The voice echoed strangely, carrying great weight and bringing suffering. "I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly."
My vision was blurred red with the agony brought on by those words, warping the familiar garden surrounding me. I focused past the pain, trying to understand where I was; I found myself standing, surrounded by women. I couldn't pay them any attention; I couldn't even look at them as my attention was drawn to the speaker. He shone with a radiant light, washing out our surroundings with the force of his presence, muting the words of the world with the force of his will. I tried to look at him, but I was blinded by his misleading, deceiving, brilliant light.
"I see that this also was a chasing of the wind; for in much wisdom, is much grief, and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." The voice spoke in harsh and biting words, sounding like he was ripping out the throat of anyone who refused to listen.
My heart beat with painful bursts, anger and betrayal and hurt and love rising inside my chest. I turned away, unwilling and unable to face the figure for any longer. I forced myself to move away, heedless of the girls swarming around me and the world shook and spun. My thoughts were focused on one thing alone: I did not want to face this, to face him, to hear his lies. I began to run, shoving the figure in front of me aside. I knew this garden only had one entrance, and that entrance was blocked by the Betrayer, but if I could just run-
I ran, ran from the voice, ran from the figure, ran from the light, and ran from the deception, the betrayal, the pain. I left him behind, but his light stretched outward and lit the area, surrounding me, consuming my vision. I frantically tore myself away, ignoring the futility of the action and just trying to get away. The light surged, and I finally tore myself away entirely with a huge surge of mental effort.
The light began to recede, and a large weight lifted off of my heart, but it wasn't enough. The sting of betrayal had faded only slightly, and the heavy pain of loss had changed from a Herculean burden to a weight possible to be borne on mortal shoulders. It was still too much, and there were still so many painful emotions swirling around inside. I readied myself to run again, but my surroundings began to change once more.
The scenery began to materialize as a small plaza, tinted blue and flashing red as an odd chirping began in the background. The twittering filled my ears as I tried to flinch away from it, but there was no escaping the sounds. There were people surrounding me, milling around aimlessly and ignoring the red trying to take over the blue.
A new voice spoke directly into my head. "We've got a problem. I can't anchor him to the memory, too much psychological trauma. He's rejecting the treatment, retreating!" It was a female voice, one I'd heard before, but I couldn't recognize it.
The voice had the right of it; I was rejecting the memory, the trauma, the emotions inspired by the figure. I didn't want to remember that day; I didn't want to recall that pain. I took a step away, realizing that I was once more standing still, and the world swirled around me. Buildings flashed across my vision, disappearing within moments as I tore myself away from the associated memories. I stumbled over a random figure, trying to run before I could even see clearly, and fell to the floor.
"Desmond, I need you to try to relax." I struggled to my feet as another voice called out. I had heard this voice before as well, but it did not bring the same type or amount of pain that the other two brought. It was more unfamiliar, but there was a bell ringing in the back of my head, trying to tell just what is going on? Was it me that the voice was talking to? Was it my name he had said?
"Let me try and stabilize him." It was the woman again, and the world spun slightly on its axis, knocking me into a vendor's cart. It righted itself, and I began to move away, to pull away from the voices and the pain they brought. I fell away from the people, the pain, retreating to the heights that so often meant safety and solitude.
The male with a duller pain spoke, bringing more images with him. "Focus; listen to the sound of my voice. Recognize that what you're seeing isn't real." The world shook and spun in my confusion and pain. This wasn't real? My vision wasn't shaking and blurring with pain, and I wasn't standing on top of a fountain? No- wait; I had just climbed a statue of a half-naked girl? The not real thing was beginning to win points. "Just a picture of the past, it can't hurt you." This was all familiar, and my brain was kicking back into gear. A picture of the past, of knowledge and sorrow, I knew what was going on; I just couldn't put it together!
"Dammit, it's not working." I knew this voice, I knew the person that owned it, I knew her name and why it made my heart hurt as well! I used my odd perch to examine my surroundings, trying to figure out how to get away from everything that just wasn't making sense!
"Give it a moment, Miss Stillman, he'll adjust." Courtyard arches flashed before my eyes, and I shied away from even figuring out what emotions lurked beyond them. "The first time is never easy." More flashes came, a glimpse of rooftops, and buildings and I didn't want to be here! I launched myself off the fountain and towards the exit, trying once more to escape!
"We're losing him!" A tower replaced the world as I made it to the edges of the plaza, reaching out for the opening only to hit an almost invisible wall. Error – Memory Sector Unavailable; I tried to keep moving, but I just slid across the opening and reached the other side of the wall.
Familiar buildings, familiar towns, and all still filled with pain, familiar memories I wanted to never remember. "That's enough Miss Stillman!" The other man was angry, snapping at the kinder voice of pain.
"We need to pull him out. Now." The world was losing its coherence, everything falling into flashes of places from my memory as I struggled to run away and yet figure out just what was going on! Something was suddenly pushing against my robes, and I was being shoved sideways and instinctively flailed my arms. I winced as I barely regained my balance, struggling to stay on my feet and think.
"Alright, Desmond;" He did say Desmond! Suddenly everything returned, my memories flashing past as I finally realized what was going on. The world swirled but I paid the image no mind, ignoring it as I frantically tried to rebuild myself and prepare for the conversation ahead. "We're going to try to bring you out now."
The world swirled one last time and then pulled forward with a soft white light, an electronic chirping whir sounding as my surroundings began to clear. My vision was filled with flickering blue images, and an outline began to appear as bars across the top and bottom of my vision. LOADING flashed in the corner, and I tried to force myself to calm down and not have another bloody panic attack already. It wasn't working, and I could barely breathe, inhalations and exhalations running together as blue, blue images, blue towns, blue rooftops flashing through my mind and then the color changed to gray and white and I was waking up and –
"You okay?" The voice was soft, and a gentle face was looking at me from my side, but I couldn't focus on her. My chest heaving, gasping, I flailed out and up, desperately trying to get away from the black and white images that were still flickering behind my eyes.
I gasped, panting and nearly-breathless as I began to see my surroundings clearly again. My hands flapped aimlessly for a moment, one hand coming up to rest across my stomach as another braced my body against the table. I tried to lift myself up, raising my head but unable to make it any farther. A voice broke into my breaths, distracting me from the rising panic. "I told you he'd be fine." The voice was slightly exasperated, and my anger flared as I turned to stare at the man.
"You bastard!" I cried out, spitting the insult at him in rage that distracted me from the pain and panic. The anger lent strength to my body, and I managed to force myself higher up onto the table before the odd incline halted my progress.
"Now, now, Mr. Miles, I just saved your life." His voice was calm, soft, and slightly reprimanding; basically, the opposite of how I felt just then.
My anger just grew as I slung myself into a sitting position, struggling to bring my body level to this man's and lessening my defenselessness. The utterly blatant lie had me shouting out before I could censor myself. "Saved my life?" My voice was a mix of incredulous and furious as I spat the lie back at the man. "You kidnapped me, strapped me into the –" I broke off in apparent anger rather than actually saying the word I shouldn't yet know, struggling for the ability to not give away the fact that I knew far more than I should, ending up gesturing angrily at the rigid surface below me, "This thing!" I was angry, more than I had ever been so before, in pain, off balance, disoriented, and confused. I was frantically trying to gather my bearings, to remember my role and what I shouldn't know –
"Animus." The harsh words broke into my rising panic, drawing my attention to the white coat that was no longer pretending to be nice, or even a little sympathetic. Maybe he was insulted by my calling it a 'thing'? Shaun got really tetchy about that too. "It's an Animus."
Well, there was now one piece of information I could claimed to have learned. Who put me into the Animus and who these two were, however, was still supposed to be unknown to me. "I don't even know you people!" My voice clearly called out my confusion and my anger, and I turned so I could direct my words at both of the other people in the room. The doctor was walking towards the foot of the bed, closer to Lucy, so I turned to face them both at the same time, not waiting for an answer, "Why are you doing this to me?!" Why were Lucy and Vidic doing this to me? An actual person should never go through anything like this!
The doctor was not impressed, and was clearly avoiding be riled by my words. "You have information we need, Mr. Miles." His voice was so cold that it took me a minute to recognize 'my' name, and that he was now displaying information he should have no idea of in order to get something out of me.
All he got was indignation. "Information? I'm a bartender, for Christ's sake." Incredulity filled my voice as I thought about how weird it was they wanted an answer from me, when I had only been in this world for less than a day. "What do you want me to do, teach you how to mix a martini?!" I hope they didn't actually take me up on that offer; although I'd prepared said drink the night before, I didn't think I would be able to recreate that feat on demand. I was acting out my role well enough, my own responses somehow filtering through and becoming what Desmond would have actually said, but I doubted that my actions would come through with such precision on queue.
The doc began moving back towards me, speaking lowly and with conviction. "We know who you are; what you are." Terror filled me at the sound of his voice, at the knowledge he promised to already hold. My hands clenched against the edge of the table, ready to provide leverage if I needed to spring forward, my body ready to attack or to run.
I hesitated for a moment to long before responding, frantically trying to dissuade him while not appearing to be hiding anything. "I – I'm just a bartender." I shook my head in negation, trying to deny his words. I turned my head sideways, pretending not to listen to him and trying to avoid showing him any hint of a lie.
He stopped directly in front of me, staring with his cold gaze boring into my peripheral vision. "Don't play coy with me," his voice hissed, "there isn't time. You're an Assassin, and whether you realize it or not, you've got something my employers want, locked away in that head of yours" He emphasized his words by swirling his hand around my head, and I was filled with an urge to bite the outstretched appendage. He turned and began walking away, satisfied with his display.
I ended up calling out after him; unable to deny the instinctual response "I'm not an Assassin." No one in their right mind would call me an assassin. I was Desmond now and not myself, but he wasn't one either, "Not anymore." I turned away again, trying to hide my responses and shame at calling out. I braced my hands on my legs, knuckles turning white as I fought to keep my composure.
"Yes, your file indicated as much." My head jerked upwards slightly, fear of what that file might contain startling my body into motion. He continued on, saying "Something about…an escape. Most fortunate for us," His voice was soft, pleased with himself and the situation.
I was not so pleased, and I was already getting sick of the doctor. I considered facing him as I spat out my next words, but ended up staring straight ahead into the empty conference room. "What do you want from me?"
His response was sharp and ended up drawing my gaze towards him despite my intentions otherwise. "For you to do as you're told," he bit out as he paced back around the table, moving so that he was back within my line of vision. I turned my head slightly to face him more clearly, trying to gauge his intentions based on his body language and facial expressions. …Who was I kidding; I couldn't read those cues when faced with an average person during casual conversation, much less when facing a Templar during an interrogation. "The Animus will allow us to locate what we need. Once we have it, you'll be free to go." His words were dismissive, and a clear lie.
"I am not going back in there," I stated, gesturing angrily at the device I was still sitting upon. I considered standing up to make my point clear, but I wasn't willing to escalate the situation when it already had a forgone conclusion. As much as I might wish otherwise, there was no doubt that this conversation would end with me back within the Animus. I grit my teeth in anger and restraint, biting back the words you liar!
"Then, we'll induce a coma, and continue our work." The doctor's voice was casual but slightly mocking, strolling around until he was once more standing by the head of the Animus, easily looking out into the room before focusing back in on me. "When we're done, you'll be left to die." I tilted my face downwards to hide the frown and growing trepidation, trying not to think of how I'd just been threatened with an enforced coma and death. "Truth be told, the only reason you're still conscious is because this approach saves time." He really doesn't care.
I was forced to face the facts that Desmond had once confronted head on. My voice was incredulous as I voiced the realization, shaking my head slightly in an attempt to negate the facts. "You're insane." No question, no exclamation, just a statement of fact that I really, really wish wasn't the case.
He didn't even respond; in fact, his next words seemed satisfied as he spoke. "So, what is it Mr. Miles?" His attempt at using my name made my mouth quirk up infinitesimally despite the situation; he wasn't as in control as he thought he was. "Live, or die." His voice carried little inflection, stating just how much he actually cared about the end result. He had no reason to – my death was intended whether or not I was conscious as I completed this task. I raised my head and stared straight forward, looking past him as if to ignore his choice. "Lie down," he commanded, voice firm.
I didn't move, not wanting to give in just yet. I knew I had no choice, knew that I needed to live to December, and I knew that I had to be conscious through these memories if I wanted to make it through these next few weeks even slightly sane. That still didn't encourage me to make this any easier for the insane madman who hadn't even told me his name. A flash of ridiculous indignation filled me as I realized that neither of the two had given me their names. Of course, I already knew them both, but surely even prisoners had the right to know their warden's names, right Warren?
"Lie down, Desmond." Lucy's soft voice made me jerk around, having almost completely forgotten her silent presence. She hadn't spoken once since those first few words when I broke out of the Animus, and I couldn't have even told you what they were. I instantly noticed the contrast between her and Vidic: she had used my first name, while he had used my last; her voice was soft and rich with emotion, while his was cold and vile; she was gentle and persuasive, while he was forceful and demanding. Good cop, bad cop from the very beginning, huh? "Lay back. We'll take care of the rest." Despite myself and my knowledge, I did feel slightly reassured, and I didn't know whether to feel grateful or resentful to Lucy for that fact.
I waited for just a moment longer before slowly lying down, every inch of my body protesting and screaming against the action. I was exposing myself, showing my stomach to the predator standing right beside me. My neck was bared and I couldn't reach up to protect it, so I forced my body into still rigidity. The harsh metal plates bit into my back, and a soft whirring started next to my ear. I jerked slightly to get away from the noise, forcing myself to relax back against the headrest as I realized it was just the visor-headband-headset-thing. A quiet humming noise persisted even after the visor was fully stretched across my face, both annoying and comforting at once.
"A wise decision," the smug voice coming from my right proclaimed. I narrowed my eyes slightly and fought the urge to turn towards the speaker, instead staring straight up into the metal ceiling. The screen powered on, a blue glow lighting from the bottom of the frame and the Abstergo symbol appearing in the center. The little cursor popped up on the screen right above the word 'LOADING', right where I was focused. I blinked in surprise, and then focused on the center of the triangle. The little compass icon – wasn't that the assassin symbol? – followed my gaze, moving to wherever my eyes were focused with virtually no lag. "Whoa," I couldn't help but mutter, even as a molecular structure flashed across the screen and wiped away the symbols. The cursor icon remained even as the familiar interface appeared, a long string of DNA spirals stretching across the visor. "What is this?"
"You're inside the Animus." I was able to ignore the person behind the words, because this was actually rather interesting. My eyes skittered across the translucent screen, trying to take in everything at once. This was an Animus version 1.28, not a single memory was unlocked… and it looked exactly like it had in the games, only way more… intense.
I managed to push aside my anger to focus on what was going on, and instead brought my curiosity out into play. It was actually easier than it sounded, because I wasn't normally very angry by nature, but I was always fascinated by the Animus and its simultaneously incredible and frightening capabilities. "Which is…?" I trailed off leadingly, honest curiosity in my voice as I prompted the doctor to speak.
"It's a projector that renders genetic memories in three dimensions." I turned to face him as he spoke, and got a nice, up-close look at his perpetually angry face. I thought it was bad enough on a computer screen; in real life, it was actually incredibly intimidating to see that face floating just a few feet above your head while you were bound to a table, unable to defend yourself. I scolded myself for getting distracted and letting myself be intimidated, running his last sentence through my head again.
"Genetic memory," I murmured, wondering what it would be like to actually experience that for myself. I would be finding out in just a few minutes, but the doctor was already geared up and heading into his introductory spiel. I wondered if he still would have continued if I had showed signs of complete understanding, and decided that he probably would have.
"It seems you'll need a bit of a tutorial." He heaved a sigh, but I didn't think he was actually as irritated as he looked. This project was his baby, and who wouldn't want to show off their work and just what their personal brilliance could create? Not to mention, he was a villain, and as a general rule, those types of people liked to monologue and proclaim their brilliance. The Animus was the pinnacle of his life's work – he probably proclaimed his and his baby's 'awesomeness' at any chance he got. Wait, no, that's Rebecca's term for the Animus, not his.
The DNA strand faded and an incomplete circle replaced it in the center of the screen. I kept my gaze focused on him as a brain appeared in the center of the screen, words surrounding the image in font too small for me to read. "We'll start simple. What is a memory, Mr. Miles?" He lifted his head back up from where he was focusing on the Animus itself, peering down at me. I wanted to back away, get away from the face hovering just over me, but I couldn't do more than shift my gaze to the brain and try to read the miniscule letters.
Hey, I can actually read what they say…mostly! While we are learning a lot very quickly about how … emerge from the simple genetic code … full understanding of how individual genes … influence human behavior. What? It's repeating over and over again… Wait, there's a second phrase. Human behavior and human consciousness are extraordinarily complex phenomena that can't be fully explained on the basics of simple genetics.
I was already getting used to being addressed with Desmond's name. I figured it was alright if I was a little slow to respond, as 'I' would have been going around using a fake name for well over half a decade. I considered trying to figure out what exactly Desmond had said, let it come naturally as it all had so far, but I wanted to actually give my own responses. "Memories… memories are recollections of past events, patterns stored in our brains so that we can remember what's happened in our personal history." Well, I never claimed that I would say it any better than Desmond had, just differently.
The doctor looked slightly exasperated as he pulled back and the image onscreen switched, showing a female body as he elaborated upon my description, pulling it into the direction he wanted to take it. "The memories are specific to the individual remembering the event."
I blinked, knowing where he was going with this, but still distracted by the apparent obviousness of the statement. "Yeah, of course," I agreed with him. That was how normal memories worked, after all.
He began pacing slightly besides me, keeping my attention firmly locked on his moving form. "What if I told you that the human body not only housed an individual's memory, but the memories of his ancestor as well?" He paused, letting that sink in. "Genetic memory, if you will." A bird replaced the human on the screen and his voice became animated, speaking more quickly than he had at any point before this, listing off different examples: "Migration, hibernation, reproduction; how do animals know when and where to go, what to do?" His voice took an upward lilt at the end, and I ended up answering the apparently not rhetorical question.
I tried to shrug, but found that I couldn't. "They just follow their instincts, I suppose." Wait, is that picture actually cited properly? That's just plain weird. How long did he spend on this 'tutorial'?
The doctor looked irritated, shaking his head and his voice returning to normal as he responded. "Now you're just arguing semantics, Mr. Miles." Oops. I guess it was a rhetorical question after all. "Whatever you call it, the fact remains. These creatures hold knowledge absent the requisite first-hand experience!" I blinked, considering the fact that he actually had a point. He walked outside my line of vision towards the bottom of the table, so I turned my gaze towards Lucy. I looked her in the eyes for a brief second before she looked back down at whatever she was working with as Warren kept talking.
"I've spent the past 30 years trying to understand why." I tried to see what Lucy was working on, and ended up getting a good look at her nametag. Lucy Stillman, the bold letters proclaimed. While my eyes were down at her chest, I ended up getting a good look before realizing what I was doing and focusing back up onto the ceiling and the dedicated doctor's words, only to realize he was once again standing beside me.
He was speaking impassioned words, clearly trying to drive in his point and his brilliance. "I discovered something most fascinating. Our DNA functions as an archive." The previous figure had been replaced with a tiny fragment of DNA, arranged in a straight line, but I couldn't get a good look at it as the doctor continued talking. "It contains not only genetic instructions passed down from previous generations, but memories as well; the memories of our ancestors." I watched as the outlined strands of DNA filled, blue and white figures that were much easier to look at then the permanently angry face talking beside me. I was surprised when tiny scenes appeared in faded bubbles, appearing and fading to quickly for me to truly understand what I was seeing, but they had seemed to be pieces of Altaïr's life.
He was silent for a moment, so I spoke up to move along the explanation. "So, this Animus… it lets you understand and see these memories compiled within our DNA?" Alright, so I wasn't the best at quickly coming up with dialogue. Maybe I'd just leave the majority of talking while I'm in Abstergo to instinctual, Desmond-y responses. That wouldn't always work, though – right now, Desmond had been running on instinct, but he began to start thinking everything through a few days in. …Probably.
"Precisely," he said and looked quite satisfied. The screen returned to the more familiar menu as the lecture concluded. I couldn't pretend to be disappointed when he stopped talking; it was interesting, and seeing it for myself made everything more intense, but I already knew far more about the Animus than anyone here would ever be willing to tell me – Lucy included. Or would it be I know more about Animi? Ah, pluralization…
Lucy interrupted, once more startling me and grabbing my attention as she spoke, "But there's a problem." I knew what the problem was, but waited for her to tell me instead. "This is the specific memory we're trying to access." I followed the cursor as it scrolled to the right, selecting the only set of memories indicated by a shape rather than the DNA strands. The words Memory Locked floated above the highlighted form, clearly indicating that we couldn't access it just yet. "Unfortunately, when we try to open the memory, your mind withdraws."
I bit back the response that of course I'd withdrawn, that memory had hurt! There had been a huge outpouring of both physical and mental pain, driving me away from recollecting further. Her phrasing made it sound like she'd tried more than once – was that why the random images had kept flashing? In the beginning at least, they had felt triggered; after the first few, running from the memories and the lingering pain had become automatic, and I had kept running even when the pain hadn't been quite so bad.
"You lack the confidence to step into your ancestor's body." I gave this crazy lady an incredulous look. It had nothing to do with confidence; I just wanted to avoid the pain! "That's what happened earlier," she rushed to explain. "You got knocked out of the target memory and pushed back to a more stable state."
I remained silent for a moment, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't tell her that I hadn't been pushed back, I had run away. After several moments, I came up with a single-word question: "Why?" Oh, how eloquent.
Lucy didn't seem to mind the question's apparent simplicity. "It's your subconscious; it's resisting." Yeah, and my conscious mind as well. "We found similar reactions among patients who undergo hypnosis to relive traumatic events. They can't jump directly into the specific memory; they need to be eased in. Even then, there could be problems."
Her voice was soft, convincing me into trusting her despite knowing just who she was; what she was. Great, now I sound like Vidic… or Warren… which was his last name again? "So, I guess we won't be just jumping into the last memory again and hoping for the best?" I tried to smile, but I think it ended up coming out a little weak.
Lucy didn't seem to notice, focused on setting everything up properly. "We'll just find a memory you can synchronize with, and move forward from there. You'll get used to it." She waved her clipboard and the display focused back on the first string of DNA, bringing my eyes down to face the strand, her clipboard, her nametag, and just her chest area in general again. She walked away, taking her view with her. "I'm uploading the tutorial program now."
The screen turned blue, the strands zooming forward and fading as the color dragged me under. White filled my vision, and I prepared myself for the change. Here we go. Goodbye, reality. Hello, Animus blue loading screen and automated voice.
Retrieving information
A C – S I
Well, here is the second chapter of my Assassin's Creed Self-Insert! Honestly, one of the reasons I actually went through with my ideas and wrote this was because I wanted to go through the games with the interface actually as it appears. In pretty much every Assassin's Creed story I've seen, it doesn't quite play out like you play it. Some do, I'm just trying to get as close to the game itself as it can in terms of mechanics. It will probably change slightly when (if) we get to AC2.
The other reason I wrote this… is because I honestly normally replace Desmond with myself when I play. It's actually pretty easy – when we first meet him, he's basically a blank slate, just waiting to be uploaded with memories and side-effects of the Bleeding. We don't have an excessive amount of time to play him in AC1, or AC2 (which I actually played first, silly me. Hey, it was free, and I didn't know about the wonders of AC yet.) At least I didn't project myself onto Altaïr or Ezio…
So…. the dialogue remained mostly the same. It will probably do that a decent majority of the time for AC1. Once we reach the Assassins and are introduced to them, (see? I honestly do mix up pronouns, though that wasn't even half bad. I try to write pronouns however they come naturally… which is normally incorrect.) I should be able to start changing up the dialogue.
How much detail should I go into? I am detail oriented, so I naturally want to write out every. little. thing., but I doubt you want to read all that. … …Of course, I didn't expect anybody to actually like my story, so… *sighs*
I had planned on waiting a few days after writing this to post this… but… I don't know…
Thank you for reading. Let me know if I messed up, missed something, something doesn't make sense, or if you want to know anything specific. I am accepting ideas for titles.
Safety and Peace go with you.
Original upload: June 22, 2014
Last updated: June 25, 2014
Words w/o A/N: 5,403
Words with A/N: 5,877