Chapter 7

The Animus

Desmond didn't stop once on his journey back to his quarters; his fists were clenched at his sides and his teeth hurt from his constant grinding. What the hell, he thought, how can the man be so short-sighted? I've been in this place almost three days and already I know more than him!

He swung round another corner, colliding with a technician who protested as Desmond walked away. He threw an apology over his shoulder and saw lightening-blue eyes filled with ice behind designer glasses. Desmond ignored the man's anger, his own rage blotting everything else but his own life.

He came upon his quarters and flung open the door, faintly hearing slam into the wall before rebounding back and hitting him in the face, he uttered a curse as he grabbed the door and shut it carefully behind him, wary of any other traps.

"At last," said a familiar female voice.

Desmond instinctively jumped and spun around and found himself face-to-face with Lucy, sitting demurely in one of the room's armchairs with her legs crossed, and arms on either side of the chair's armrests with a wry smile attached to her smug face.

"BWAH!" he cried, clutching his heart.

"Manly," she commented dryly.

"It's a skill I've developed over the years," he managed to say. He clambered over to a chest of drawers and rested himself against it, catching his breath. "Lucy, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I've been looking for you all day," she told him, "I figured since you ran away yesterday with a promise to talk soon I'd convinced myself you would try and find me."

Desmond looked to the ceiling as he tried to remember, he faintly recalled seeing Lucy, and then rushing away again. When he realised how that must have looked from her point of view he winced. 'Sorry," he said, "I had other things going on."

"From the hushed activity and the multiple arrests today, I gathered as much."

"Yeah…" he muttered, not wanting to discuss it. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

She fixed him with her eyes. "The real reason you're on this ship."

Desmond turned away from her and pretended to look for something in the chest of drawers. It was a while before he spoke. "I'm scared, Lucy," he said.

"Of what?" Lucy said, her voice filled with concern.

"Of going back in there." Desmond said, he paused, wondering how to phrase it. He turned and sat in another chair, wringing his hands. "You see, my ancestor, Altair, he is nothing like me, the man has confidence, power, intelligence, and the ability to move through life and change things. Me, I'm a failed assassin, with six years of bartending, a crappy flat and no friends to my name.

"But lately… I don't know, it feels like all my time spent in his boots is rubbing off on me, and it's not like a picked-up accent you gain from spending a long time in a foreign country, it's the type where I climb buildings, can use knives, and even have his eagle vision!" He breathed deeply, in, and out. "I'm scared that, if I do decide to go back, I'll lose myself, my willpower is no match for his. I got all of these attributes from a weeks exposure, how do I deal with what might be months of it? What if by the end I'm wearing the robes and the hood and walking and talking and fighting like a centuries dead, medieval assassin?!" He looked at her beseechingly.

Lucy continued looking and Desmond and bit her lip. "I'll be honest with you Desmond, we can't know for sure. I could spout that what you'd be doing is for the 'greater good' and 'one man's sanity is worth a thousand lives", but I'm not going to. I think you've been through enough, and we have decided that it's your choice, not ours. I won't be completely innocent and say that what you do would be of great benefit; and that like your ancestor you can change things. Have you ever thought of—not working through Altair—but working together?"

Desmond frowned. "Working together?"

"Help him, help you; the faster this is done the better right?"

Desmond's face clouded over, in the sudden appearance of Lucy and the subsequent scaring he had forgotten about the events of earlier. "Tell that to Alexander," he said.

"What?"

So Desmond told Lucy everything that had happened over the last couple of days, his tracking Mac, the discovery of the revolt, and the consequential arrests. Throughout it she showed no reaction—she probably already had her suspicions, Desmond thought—except when he recounted Louis and Alexander's reactions; a case of anger meets sadness.

"But can't you see his position, Desmond?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No matter how hard I try to."

"Alexander has been in charge of this organisation for over twenty years, he took the mantle from his father. Considering this, people whispered that just because he was his father's son didn't make him fit to command."

"Ouch," exclaimed Desmond.

"Exactly, so knowing this Alexander took on the role and soon those whispers died down, but as we all know where a rumour ends another begins. So then people started saying that he was taking this organisation down the wrong track—"

"Can I just ask?" Said Desmond, cutting in, "why do you people always refer to the Hashshashin as 'this organisation'?"

Lucy sighed at the interruption. "Because it was easier, and after a while this has become less of a group of individual assassins and more of a, shall we say, nation. Now, can I continue?"

Desmond shook his head slightly. "By all means."

"Anyway, it gave a massive boost to Alexander's reign. You see, the man's the best leader we could ever have, because he responds to people's lack of confidence with his own and makes this organisation better. However," she paused, "we've never had a possible Templar spy—"

"Mac is a Templar spy!" Desmond stressed.

"That's beside the point!" said Lucy, angry at once again being interrupted. "We don't have enough proof he's with the Templars, it's just an ancient prejudice that this organisation has inherited. And you, Desmond, you!" She said, beginning to get flustered and coming with a few steps of him. "You have spent a weeks recently locked in a machine where the Templars were your enemy, your conviction that Mac is a Templar spy is discredited by your questionable sanity!"

"My questionable sanity?!" Desmond bellowed. "I'm not the one that lets traitors sit in their rooms where they're able to formulate another plan to bring innocent people to harm. Now I agree that Alexander is a great leader, but I honestly cannot fathom the logic behind his decision!"

He swallowed and looked her in the eye. He said softly, "I just don't understand."

Lucy looked at Desmond with something akin to sympathy. "I don't expect you to," she said. "Just trust in him, please. For me?"

Desmond looked at Lucy and saw that she wasn't trying to bully him into doing as she wanted, but was looking after Alexander. It wasn't anything to do with love, at least not the marital kind, but she trusted him because he had done something for her, given her something. I wonder what it is, Desmond thought.

Desmond nodded slightly. "Okay," he said, "for you."

"Thank you," Lucy replied, going back to her seat.

"You know, Lucy," said Desmond, stopping her in her tracks, "you're about the only person I trust in this place."

Lucy looked about to say something, but stopped herself. She smiled slightly in thanks and sat back down. "So," she said. Are you game?"

Desmond fixed her blue eyes with his own and said, "What do I need to do?"

* * *

Desmond and Lucy traversed the corridors; they were quiet this time of the morning. Lucy had left shortly after their conversation last night, leaving Desmond to his thoughts. He had spent hours going over in his head what he was about to do.

Theoretically, the Animus would make no difference to him, but there hadn't been many tests and no one had been exposed to it for as long as Desmond had. He'd been told he should be fine, but all he could picture was that man's blood on the floors and walls back at Abstergo's lab.

They started up a corridor and with surprise Desmond noticed that this was the guarded area he had never been allowed to during his explorations. The man guarding the door gave a nod to Lucy and a forced nod to Desmond, who mock-saluted the man in return. Lucy swiped a card and punched in 7-digit-code before standing on her tiptoes to have her retina scanned. She gestured Desmond in and Desmond as he did so Desmond's fear came back in a rush.

Inside the room was white and grey. There were white-washed walls, grey girders and desks and tables, and in the middle of the room was the Animus. It looked the same as it always did, only this time the whole floor was a thick, see-through glass. Desmond approached the machine with a sort of reverence, laying a hand on its warm surface. A glint of pulsing bronze and silver caught his eye, and Desmond gazed at the the Piece of Eden at the bottom of the Animus. He looked about wildly and was shocked to find that there were no guards in this room, he instantly went to grab it protectively, before seeing that it was surrounded by metal rods, hooked up to a sophisticated alarm system. He continued staring at the orb, finding that coherent thought was no longer possible, his world stretched, all that mattered to him was that he got his hands on it's surface.

"Ah, I see he's arrived then."

Desmond snapped round with a start, and retracted his hand like a child caught in the cookie jar. He frowned, the man who had just entered had familiar eyes through designer glasses. He too recognised Desmond at about the same time, and then his hopeful features turned into a disapproving glare.

Desmond grimaced. "Sorry about the knock yesterday, Doc," he apologised.

The man shrugged. "It's no matter." He turned to Lucy and his face split into an exaggerated smile. "Ah, Lucy! Wonderful to see you again." He opened his arms for a hug.

Desmond looked at Lucy, expecting to see the same sort of expression in her features, He was instead shocked to find her biting her tongue and narrowing her eyes with barely concealed anger and disgust. He sensed there was bad feeling here.

"Arnold," Lucy coldly replied.

The man's face fell instantly upon recognizing her tone, he nodded to her cordially before turning to Desmond. "If you would like to lie down we shall begin straight away." Arnold gestured to the Animus and then turned his back to calibrate some equipment.

Desmond threw a questioning look at Lucy, who replied with a dismissive wave. He shrugged and then hopped onto the Animus, before lying on his back. His heart was pumping like mad, he could hear the blood in his ears and feel it throbbing through his arms as he gripped the Animus' leather cushioning.

"Just relax," said Lucy, coming over. "You've done this before."

Desmond nodded and just stared at the ceiling, trying to think of anything other than this moment. Here we go, he thought. It was still strange how, even now, he was feeling excited too; Altair and his power awaited.

Lucy pressed a button on the console attached to the Animus, and pulled a small lever; Desmond's world was plunged into pure whiteness.


Heyo, I know, this chapter is a little shorter, but the next one's bigger... better, and more badass.