The air was both familiar and intoxicating to Desmond. A scent that helped him escape from all the fumes and ash of his urban jungle. Where he lay still, in serenity, the world around him began to take form. The vast and barren wasteland that he was curtly dumped into flourished with activity. Sharp, angled shapes surrounding him ripped apart. He sits up, expecting some sort of pain to writhe inside his body as another flash of bright white makes him light-headed.
But the world around him dims, Desmond recognises this place oh so well from his most fondest of memories. Colour pours through, and the similarities are impeccable, that Desmond first has a hint of doubt. But the field around him, animated and luminous, he could see beyond the endless plains.
The grass and tiny, pastel coloured flowers peppered the land. Desmond looks to the floor, he has his hands on the ground supporting his weightless body. He can feel the small, strands of grass poking through his fingertips. As he strokes, he feels them brushing against his palms,grazing and teasing.
Dully, he whispers. "Am I...alive?"
Everything is just the same, he notes, his clothes haven't altered at all though and the greenery is practically mirrored. Trees and saplings, the clear blue sky. Only this time the hills in the distance was not clouded by a mist, and he could finally move.
However, this place was far too quiet for his liking, even if they had sent him to a dream world where the warm breeze tickled his skin. It was all too real...and Desmond hesitated to believe it more.
Why am I...here? Of all places.
Standing wasn't an easy task, he wobbled a little but soon found his balance, his arms weighing. Desmond turns his head, taking it all in and hoping to find anything out of place. And once again, to his doubtful mind, everything seemed spotless and consistent to him, just the wind that rolled on the pasture gave a sense of calm. He begins his walk to no where.
"Hello?" He shouts, and is met with silence. "Hey! Is anyone out there? Hello!"
Not a sound or an echo bounds back to him, and Desmond starts to feel disturbed. He walks on, not knowing where or why, but the scenery never changes. He crosses a hill, his hope fleeting as he managed to climb to the top, overlooking the other side. In result; more continuing fields. Desmond sighs, shoulders sag in defeat. For a land so alluring, that Desmond would bet it could rival some of the most worldly portraits he had seen, he felt saddened. Such vain beauty, and not one soul to share it with.
"There's nothing here."
He shivers, holding himself, before carefully ambling down the hill and onto the meadow. There is a distant glitter, immediate and twinkling from the corner of his eyes. The shine doesn't fade, and his attentions faced the lake far from him nestled beside more hills. He is relieved! A source of energy, or something, if anything, and he runs. He runs both breathlessly and wildly, soon the lake becomes a grand sight. It is enormous and shallow, but Desmond could easily wind up on the other end if he bothered to swim across. There is no life festering in the water, as far as he could tell. The sun danced on the gentle ripples, reflecting both the rays of light and his reflection, crystal clear as the water beneath.
Curiosity sinks him to his knees near the edge and he ventures a hand past the surface, the water being precisely cold as he predicted. Desmond pulls out, checking his hand and the trickles that raced down his arm, vanishing into his sleeves. He then abruptly plunges both his hands into the lake, creating a small splash, then circling them so that it forms a cup. As he pulls out once more, the water spills through the cracks between his fingers, but enough is in the palm of his hands for him to drink from. He pauses, contemplating, before it passes his lips.
Desmond was surprised at how refreshing that had felt down his throat, that he was slightly grateful. Pressing his wet palms on his face, he takes a deep breath, dragging his hands down to his chin. Again, he dips his hands into the lagoon a little more enthusiastically, before splashing his face. Two more times he repeats this, rinsing and then wiping the water clear from his eyes, nostrils and mouth. He feels revived. Desmond rubs his face in attempt to dry himself, pinching his nose as he does. He blinks, there is a brief smile, until the surface of the lake alarms him.
The colour of red and black splits across the shoal, and Desmond mistakes it as if the water had been tainted without his notice. But the ripples and the way the water shifted, it is but a façade of the sky growing a dark. It turns a more terrifying shade as he looks up. The sky appears as if it's on fire and twisted, that as the clouds gather, it reminds him of molten lava. He stands, searching, trying to make better sense of what's happening.
"What the...what the hell?" he babbled. "Why is it...what's going on here?"
There is an acute change in the wind, becoming boisterous and chilling. It would have knocked Desmond over, had he not kept his feet firmly to the ground. He shields his eyes, his arm protecting him with each gust. It isn't loud at first, still, Desmond navigated voices not to far from where he stood. He ascends up a small hill with some effort nearby, a scene before him screamed war.
Two distinct groups are gathered but well away from one another, and himself. To the left, people dressed in glorious and decorative golden armour. Wearing helmets and held extensive weaponry that reminded Desmond of Roman legionnaires. They all stood in the numbers, side by side and in tactical formation. Opposite them, savage and fierce, were beasts. Desmond could not quite place it if they were animals, the closest being wolves. Though they were on all four, had fur and a much larger set of fangs. They definitely carried a much heavier mass of muscle than ones he could imagine. Desmond shuddered at the thought of meeting one face to face.
A figure steps out from the army of men and women, clad in an apparel more extensive and higher classed. His voice bellows, loud and clear. "Give up now, wolves! Spare yourselves a pointless defeat and go back into hiding!"
"Hiding?" one snowy coloured creature crawls out from the company of wolves, and Desmond is shocked. A man donned in primitive, fur clothing takes his place at the front of the crowd, after Desmond blinks for a second time.
Did that man just?...
Desmond notes the mans right eyelid is close, a faded pink scar running across it. This unknown, olive-skinned man continues."This land belongs to all of us! We share this world. And you, humans, have defiled everything that has been given to us. How careless and thankless you all are."
A ripple of outward howls and barks from the wolves behind him are heard in agreement. The man leading the people only chuckles, with Desmond betting that under that helmet of his was a confident smirk.
"You demons that talk like us, stand like us and look like us think you have a right?" he shakes his head in dismay, before spitting at the ground. "Disgusting."
"Do not berate our powers just because we have evolved into greater beings." The other man glares. "This gift is an endowment from the creators as both a blessing and a clear signal for you all. We are here to warn you that your unforgivable deeds will come at a high price, humans. Should you go on to do such disgraceful acts, we will be there to stop you."
"Even by sacrificial means?"
Desmond sees the man's only visible eye hardening. "War does not come without sacrifice, you of all people should know. But we can still find peace among us!"
"Peace." the armoured man reflects, and Desmond swears he spots him almost faltering. "No. Not with us. Not with your race, my friend." his voice chokes, as he unsheathed the sword on his side. It glimmers slightly causing the other man to frown. "Once, there was such a thing. But not anymore! To arms, my people! To arms!"
"Stand down, Seth!" there is desperation in his cry. "Please! We do not need to spill blood. My brother, please reconsider!"
"So it comes to this, hm? Begging?" said Seth, full of malice. "You half-breeds always did know how to bow down to your masters, when all else fails. Hah!"
"Seth! No!"
"And this...this will lead your demise!"
Seth proudly pulls something clutched in his other hand, hidden under his velvet cloak all along. Desmond registers the orb to be a brilliant gold, with faint lines and curves engraved onto the surface. There is horrified look on the other darker skinned man, of fear and disdain for the object.
"How dare you...are you nothing but a coward, Seth? To use the very object that sent your own blood brothers to their grave?"
"I am no coward!" his fingers tighten around the orb. "And do not speak of my brothers, monster! But you and your kind, today, you shall all taste my wrath! You will all die and rot in the depths of hell!"
Seth is the first to sprint forward, before the rest of his people follow in their numbers. Their battlecry roars as they run forth, gradually closing the gap between themselves and the wolves. There is hesitation on the other mans face who is leading the beasts. He takes a deep breath, his sight dead set on the on coming threat, especially on Seth.
"Charge!" He yells finally.
Desmond forgets. He forgets himself, forgets everything else and that he is trying to escape this chaotic world. He loses himself, and he runs down the hill towards the fray without a second thought. He had never felt himself dash so fast in his life. The wind whipped past him, his jacket flapping. But there lay a burning desire in his heart. Something inside was breaking. Everything else was telling him no after the first step, his mind clinging.
Don't do this.
Don't run.
Don't be a hero.
It is too late.
The first blood is spilt, a large sword penetrates the stomach of a wolf who tried to tackle, and a painful cry is heard. Another wolf jumps right after at an incredible height and pounces on one of the soldiers, tearing ruthlessly at his neck that torn flesh is seen through its fangs. One after another, man and beast clash. Teeth and claws, fists and blades. And Desmond keeps running, feet overlapping, threatening to trip him over but he doesn't care. A hand reaches out, and he pleads.
But his voice is swallowed, just as everything else is. They all slow down, they all shatter around him. Crumbling, a light seeps through, and Desmond catches a faint glow from the ball within the hands of a war consumed man.
"We found it." a voice breathless is followed by a short cackle. "We finally found it...ahaa...haha!"
"What? His vital signs are accelerating, this isn't right-"
"After all this time, he finally have proof of its existence."
"Oh god, he's going into shock. Help me!" Lucy scrambles to keep Desmond still, looking over her shoulder. "Warren, please!"
"The hell is he flailing for?"
"Shut up Daniel and help me!"
"No way." he sneers. "That fucker could bite me the way he's spazzing like that!"
"Please Daniel! Warren- gah!" Desmond violently thrashes making Lucy jump, but her arms are still holding him down. "I need the sedative, now!"
"-and we just need to find the location where it's hidden. It's all coming together now..."
"Vidic, please!"
"Hmm?" Warren glares at Lucy most tiresomely, displeased he was interrupted from his daydreaming. "Fine. Daniel, help Stillman him hold down, I have the sedative under my desk."
He reaches under the table, lazily searching for the object needed. He pulls away, studying the syringe in hand, flicking the vessel, marvelling at his own pace. The liquid inside is crystal clear, accompanied by the sharp, thin needle at the other end. Warren walks over them, Desmond still struggling under their grip and Warren scowls.
"Hold him still you two! We can't afford to lose this one."
Lucy allows Warren some space near Desmond's neck, she doesn't let go and helps comb back some fur, revealing some skin underneath. Without hesitation, Warren inserts the needles, injecting and easing the drug into his system. And soon enough Desmond's body ceases to writhe, twitching involuntarily seconds later, his chest raising up and down gently.
Daniel pushes off, clearly uninterested, as does Warren. But Lucy stays. She stays and stares into Desmond's troubled gaze. There is panic written all over his face, unsure and unaware of what's happening. Lucy looks at him, almost lovingly and sympathetically. She carefully holds one of his front paws, rubbing and petting the fur on his head as he starts to black out. She leans closely, her scent penetrating Desmond's nostrils. It is light and sweet, bearable unlike most fragrances Desmond finds on women; he inhales it.
"Shhh." her voice soft and lulling. "I promise you, I'm going to get you out of here."
He doesn't reply verbally, he can't. All their voices and the noise surrounding him slowly drowns out. Desmond leaves her with his ragged breaths, and the flutter of his eyes as they close.
Clay swears he can hear a ticking somewhere nearby. He was unsure where the sound was coming from, but it was growing, louder with each passing second. Pressing his thumbs together, keeping his composure, his ears started to burn. He was becoming impatient, and worried. Clay sat in a corner, far from the door, in his little, empty, white room. Alone.
Where are they...what happened to him...what are they doing to him?
Punctual as ever, dinner rounds had arrived. But Clay could smell nothing, no sensual odor beyond that door. There was a familiar presence, oh yes, but it was tampered. Someone was suffering behind that door, and by then Clay had already made it to his feet before the door was swung open. Two men either side of Desmond was dragging him by his arms. Lifeless, his legs dangled behind and head hung lowly. Clay didn't need to see Desmond's face to know he was in distress.
"Your friend here had a bit of a nasty accident. Poor bastard transformed while he was on the Animus." said Daniel, appearing from the back. "But, like the gracious hosts that we are, we took care of him. Don't worry."
Clay was having none of his attitude today. "Fuck you Daniel! What did you guys do to him?"
"Oh, I don't think I like that tone, Kaczmarek." Daniel nodded. "Throw 'fresh meat' in there."
"Fran!"
Carelessly they tossed Desmond's body into the room. Clay managed to catch his arm and torso, before falling backwards to the floor himself, trying to cradle the unconscious man. At least Desmond didn't face plant the floor. Clay glared at all three, with Daniel simply disregarding.
"We'll be back for the runt later. Try to good care of your cell mate, yeah?"
All three of them turned to leave, but Clay quickly called to Daniel attentions.
"Cross."
"Hn? What now?"
He repositioned himself more comfortable, sitting down cross-legged with Desmond sleeping in his arms. "...Вы никогда не будете находить рай."
And there he saw it, Clay saw Daniel flinching in place. Though he only saw his back, Clay knew that Daniel had heard him. But the man refused to turn around, enough was enough for him for one day.
"We'll see, Kaczmarek." Daniel lifts a hand and closes the door. "We shall see."
The lock is heard, and once more the little white room was quiet. Clay's face changed from anger to concern, scanning Desmond's body, trying to see anything out of the ordinary. There was an obvious difference from the man he first met. A pose of discovery, of revelation and...familiarity. He could not ignore the rueful riddled look on Desmond's face however, the scrunched up brows and struggling breaths he took was proof enough that they had something terrible to him.
With minutes passing Clay allowed the silence to continue, holding Desmond like a fragile infant. His back curved and ached, but he smiled. Desmond was starting to look well-rested. Naturally, his body was recovering itself. Clay took this chance to push back some of his own unkempt hair shielding his eyes, and his smile widened. Desmond's eyes started to twitch alive.
"...nngh...w-where...what did I.."
"Hey Fran," Gently, the blond man called to him. "It's me."
"Mmm...C-Clay? What the-" Desmond winces, trying to lift his heavy head. But Clay gingerly pushes him back, his hand resting on Desmond's chest.
"Easy now, Abstergo did something to you. Just relax, they knocked you out pretty bad."
"They...Abstergo?" Desmond questions, panting. He relaxes himself in the arm that held him, the will to move completely driven out. "Those...bastards..."
Clay couldn't help but laugh. "Mhm. Couldn't have said it better myself. But, do you remember anything before you passed out?"
It takes a while before Desmond could reply, his mind making awful cringes every time he tried to lock onto a memory. They were all broken, bits and pieces gone astray and Desmond couldn't seem to place them back together. It hurt and confused him, what ever they had done to him, they made sure that his own well-being was that last thing on their priority. And whatever else Desmond was feeling at that moment, damaged or lost or the same, Clay had noticed.
"You don't have to answer if you can't, maybe-"
"No." Desmond tries harder. "I...there was a place, this place...and others. I-"
"Fran, listen to yourself-"
"I was there." Desmond doesn't care, he doesn't stop now. "I was in this beautiful place. Massive, i-it went on for miles. And it was so crazy beautiful Clay, believe me. I just...the sky was so clear there. There was this big lake too."
"I..." Clay listens, eyes narrowing. "I believe you, okay?"
"Yeah. You do?" Desmond looks up at him this time, eyes glassy as if he just woke.
Such inquisitive eyes, Clay had not seen such an expression in a while. "Why not?"
"I don't know...maybe it sounds mad."
Clay merely chuckles. "Maybe, but I'd like to see this paradise of yours."
Author's Note: Sorry if I managed to butcher up the language there! I don't know a lick of Russian...(google trans. go fig)