It had been a long ride. He had no way of telling how long. More than a couple of hours, certainly. The apparency of danger had ended after the first few gunshots, thank God, but plenty of bumps and turns were there to throw him in all directions. This was only marginally less brusque than his abduction by Abstergo.

But now, at long last, the car had stopped. And this time he knew it was not a red light, because he could hear Lucy exit.

She opened the trunk. No harsh light to squint at, they were inside...a warehouse. The end point at least. His body was cramped and achey.

"Thanks for that," he said as he crawled his way out. "That was great. Shoved in the trunk, bouncing around."

But Lucy's expression had softened. That was a good sign.

"This way," she said, and started walking.

Desmond, as well, seemed permitted to relax a bit. He rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders to try to get all the discomfort out of his muscles.

"So how are we going to get this training thing done? What's your plan? Don't we need another animus?"

"We built one. I sent the schematics to another Assassin a while ago. We've constructed a replica. Better than the original in some ways. Certainly more portable."

Desmond was no techy, but that seemed...impressive. Especially given the comparatively humble surroundings of an Assassin hideout when juxtaposed with an Abstergo building.

"So...how's this gonna work? More time with Altiar?"

Lucy stepped onto a catwalk they had been approaching. "No. We have a different man in mind."

"What? Why?" Desmond asked.

"This is about a bit more than training you."

"Another treasure hunt through time?" Desmond inquired with a somewhat facetious tone as they continued up the catwalk.

"Desmond," Lucy said with a more serious voice. "The Templars know where the Pieces of Eden are. Now that they've seen that map in your ancestor's memories...we have to beat them to those artifacts. We have some information of our own but...so much has been lost in this war."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been at war with the Templars for centuries. The last few decades...they've been to devastating for both sides. And already: everything we do, it's not the sort of thing you'd want to put on paper. Much of our own history is a mystery to us. We have a lot to learn from the animus too, just like Abstergo. But we have to learn it fast."

The catwalk leveled off. Lucy turned and they entered...a hallway of sorts. Its modular, light, industrial look seemed to connect the warehouse to a very different building, with hardwood floor and brick walls. Warehouses were stereotypical secret society hideouts from what Desmond had heard. But what was this? Some kind of apartment complex?

They crossed into the classier building.

Lucy turned back to him.

"Look, Desmond. This won't be easy. And honestly, I can't force you to go through with this. But if we do this right, we have can years of training imprinted into your mind in a matter of days."

"I'm in, I'll do whatever you want," Desmond said simply.

"Really?" she said in a surprise with some semblance of a smile. This caught Desmond off guard.

"I thought you'd be happy..." Did she really think him such a coward that-

"Sorry I'm just..." she looked to the side. "I'm just a little surprised. I spent the whole ride over here trying to figure out how I would convince you to do this."

Desmond put a hand up. "Save it," he said, taking the firm tone for the first time between them. "After what those Templar bastards put me through, I'm ready, willing, and able."

What happened next shocked Desmond equally, as Lucy wrapped her arms around him in embrace.

Desmond, a bit unsure what to think, simply stood frozen. Was this a sign that...no...she was way out of his league. Although one could always hope...

She disengaged, and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked him in the eyes with vulnerable earnesty. "Thank you," she said.

She walked for a double door way, and they made their way into a large room.

"Lucy!" Desmond heard another female voice yell in glee. Desmond entered to see her run into the embrace of another woman, this one with dark, shorter hair. Maybe he had over analyzed that previous hug.

They disconnected. "God, it's been so long!" she said. "Seven years, can you believe it?"

"Indeed," a male voice chimed in, this one with a British accent. Desmond looked to see a tall, blonde man with jelled up hair, and classy sweater, and glasses, probably about his age. He shifted his gaze to look at Desmond.

The next greeting seemed a bit less friendly. "Ah, this much be the infamous Subject 17. Desmond Miles, was it?" The ex-bartender could not help but detect some sarcasm.

"Who are you?" he asked dourly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Where are my manners? I'm Shaun Hastings. This is Rebecca Crane."

The dark haired girl, of completely different affect, moved in for an enthusiastic handshake. "Nice to meet you, Desmond," she said. She was hardly as attractive as Lucy but-

"Right well it's been lovely chatting," the Brit interrupted before Miles could speak. "But if you don't mind, it's best we get straight to work. Time is precious, doubly so these days."

No hospitality from him. Already Desmond had developed preferences among the Order.

Rebecca looked at him "We've got everything set up and ready, Desmond," she said eagerly. "Just say the word and we'll get going."


A/N: Yes, I know, hard to tell the difference from the original so far, but for some reason I had a burning desire to begin this story, and hopefully this will give you a fair idea of my writing abilities. Stay tuned. There may be a bit of delay as I finish up my final Elder Scrolls fic, but there will definitely be more where this came from.