Rating: T
Summary: Rebecca's research bears fruit and the implications of those findings lead her to theorize as to the answer to a question that has been on her mind for quite a while.
Just what is Project Blacklight?
+ Desmond Miles is given the unenviable task of forming some kind of rapport with a violent, amnesiac Templar- one infected with the same disease spreading like wildfire through the city.
Rebecca squinted at the glowing screen with bleary eyes and, almost unconsciously, took a sip of very watered down coffee from a cheap, cracked mug. Her precious supply of coffee beans, snuck past the airport security, was dwindling fast. She wasn't happy about it, but she wasn't stupid enough to prioritize coffee above survival.
She was stuck in the middle of a viral outbreak, one that she referred to as- while not entirely accurate- a zombie apocalypse. It certainly seemed like one at first glance. Their flesh warped from the effects of the devastating virus and their bodies animated by some distant hivemind, the Infected stumbled mindlessly through the red zone of the city. It was hard to believe that even they, at one point in their lives, had been human.
Rebecca shuddered inwardly. She had seen enough movies to know that going outside during such an event was a Very Bad Idea. While she was a pretty big fan of zombie movies, she knew better than to be excited about her predicament.
So far, the modern Assassins had avoided having to leave the apartment building they had claimed as their own. The former occupants were long gone, either dead or- hopefully- evacuated to one of the safer parts of the city. This was the red zone, the places of Manhattan Island most affected by the plague that had swept the cities.
She really, really hoped that the rest of the island was in better condition. The virus might not be able to spread across the water that surrounded Manhattan, but it had more than enough fuel where it was now. 1.6 million people on this floating piece of land. Jesus Christ.
But, as evident from their dwindling supplies of food and water, they couldn't stay cooped up in here forever. Grocery stores had been left abandoned after the evacuation of the majority of the population and there was bound to be useful things in there. The problem was getting there. It was easy enough for Dana; her brother was more than happy to help her get the supplies she needed, and he wasn't in any danger from the Infected. It was much more difficult for the modern Assassins.
Alex Mercer was much less willing to give them a hand than he was for his sister. It was understandable. They hadn't exactly made a great first impression on the guy, what with Lucy (and god, she loved her, but the woman just gets a bit trigger happy, you know?) pulling a knife on Dana. That coupled with the fact that the man was also infected by the same virus and- for some unknown reason- gained (creepy) superhuman powers instead of turning into a mindless Infected made relations between Mercer and the modern Assassins more than just a little frosty.
Speaking of the man… Rebecca frowned at the screen, forehead furrowing. Just what the hell was he involved with? His records still existed- thank god for that, at least- but they were suspiciously blank. Age, gender, position were all there, but the things she actually cared about were not.
Apparently, he used to be the head scientist of some project called Blacklight. Huh. Strange name for a laboratory experiment. But when she delved deeper into the files, she discovered that everything else about Blacklight was simply… gone. There were some cover information to keep up the disguise that everything was normal- according to that, the experiment was an attempt to cure cancer- but the other scientists who had worked on the project, the results, any definite information about the project… all deleted.
She bit her lip absentmindedly. Blacklight sounded a bit… familiar? She had seen something like it before, but Rebecca couldn't remember where. Maybe not the exact word, but something close to it that- it came up in a conversation she had with Dana earlier that day, when she had told her some of the additional information she had discovered about Elizabeth Greene. Dana had stayed oddly mum about the source of her information, which was strange. Rebecca had looked everywhere and had found nothing. But she didn't push. Hey, she was her best friend. Dana can keep her secrets if she wants to.
But Blacklight, huh? Either geneticists had some kind of organized key for naming projects after colored lights, or this project was connected in some way to Redlight. But how, exactly? The latter was a test of some virus in Hope, Idaho, which ended up killing thousands at an unprecedented rate and creating Elizabeth Greene. So that meant Blacklight…
Her eyes widened. Stupid, stupid! Could it be any more obvious? Blacklight, Redlight- both connected to a viral outbreak. Now this was a lead. Dr. Mercer was the head scientist on an experiment on a virus that was somehow connected to the Redlight virus of Hope. Hell, from what she knew know, the Blacklight Project was probably working on the Blacklight virus- or, as the public knew it, the Mercer virus.
Even though Dana had vouched for her brother's 'innocence'- if he had really released that virus like Blackwatch said, he wouldn't have became amnesiac and infected- Rebecca realized then that the 'Mercer virus' was pretty aptly named, though for different reasons than most would think.
It was named after the man who had created it, after all.
Rebecca grinned. This was great. She had been working tirelessly the whole day before finally getting through Gentek's security and firewalls a few hours before. An actual breakthrough!
Then, slowly, the grin slid off her face. Dr. Mercer was head scientist of Gentek's- or rather, Abstergo's- prize project, Blacklight. Even ignoring that the man had created a lethal, humanity-destroying virus, the implications did not bode well for Mercer's 'innocence'- at least, Dana's hopes that her brother wasn't actually a Templar was growing slimmer by the minute.
There was no way in hell that the Templars would put a regular Joe Schmo in charge of something that important to them, even if Mercer was a complete genius. That, added to the fact that he was, even if he hadn't been the one to unleash the Blacklight virus, partially responsible for the current viral outbreak…
Dana was not going to like this. At all.
Sometimes, Desmond Miles just hated his life.
He had wished, as a kid, that he had been born into a normal family- one with a doting mother and a loving father, one that lived in a house with a picket fence. Instead, he got a complete asshole of a father and a caring but distant mother, and instead of a house with a picket fence, he got to live in some completely isolated community of surprising athletic conspiracy theorists.
Desmond escaped from there as soon as he got the opportunity to and spent a few happy years living a normal life. He made friends with people, became a bartender (and a damned good one, if he could say so himself), and hell, even bought a motorcycle.
That motorcycle had been his downfall. That was how they found him.
His past came back to haunt him when he was kidnapped by the Templars- the same ones he had been warned about his entire childhood and forced to relive memories of his past ancestors because of his one-of-a-kind ancestry. Apparently, his family and distant ancestors had all been Assassins.
Then he had escaped, only to live through even more memories, now from a different Assassin, in order to save the world from the Templar's assimilation plan. A few months later, Desmond found out that the world was actually ending for real- at least, if he didn't find some way to stop it.
Yeah, no pressure.
He had thought Manhattan would be a cakewalk compared to the days (hours) he spent avoiding guards and assassinating targets in Renaissance Italy. Hell, it was a city, right? And this was modern times, not like the Black Plague back in the whenevers- he thought it was going to be a distraction from his actual problems.
But now, Desmond had to survive in the middle of a viral outbreak that transformed its victims into misshapen monsters right out of a horror movie. To make things even worse, their only allies on the island were the Assassin they had come to rescue… and her murderous, over-protective older brother.
Said older brother was also an amnesiac and already infected with the virus sweeping the city. But in Alex Mercer's case, getting infected granted him super strength and the ability to turn his hands into claws instead of a slow and painful death. According to what little Rebecca had told him- she wanted to talk with Dana first, she said- the man was also a Templar.
Which… didn't bode well for Desmond and his fellow Assassins, especially considering how the guy already wanted to kill them. They've been avoiding Mercer since they got to Manhattan, using Dana as a intermediate instead. At least the man cared about his sister, if nothing else.
Mercer was something out of a comic book- heck, he would make a pretty good superhero if not for his unpleasant disposition (understatement) and his violent tendencies. Desmond hadn't seen much of him other than that first meeting, but he knew the man had superhuman strength and speed and- an ability that he actually felt kinda jealous of- was able to survive incredibly high falls. It reminded him of the Leaps of Faith he had gotten used to (and never got to use in the present, considering the lack of haystacks in urban cities) during his time in the Animus.
But the same abilities also made him a complete wildcard. The Assassins couldn't really do anything to him; Desmond doubted a regular gun or blade could kill him- maybe hurt him, but not permanently. But as they say, the enemy of one's enemy is one's friend, and Mercer was definitely Gentek/Blackwatch/Abstergo/the Templar's enemy. That made him an ally... sort of. But ally or not, he wasn't exactly someone Desmond felt comfortable drinking with- or hell, even talking to.
So when Lucy told him seriously that he needed to form some kind of friendship with the guy (okay, maybe not in those words), he hadn't reacted well. Seriously? Seriously? Did they think he was suicidal?
"Please tell me you're kidding me." He said, "Lucy, you're telling me to befriend Alex fucking Mercer?"
"Stop overreacting." The blonde told him exasperatedly. "I'm not telling you to be his best friend- or his friend at all. Just form some kind of rapport with him. We need information and to be honest, I think his sister is keeping something important from us. We know nothing about Mercer except that he's lost his memory, gained powers though the virus, and that he used to be a Templar sympathizer. We need more than that."
"And you expect me to get that information for you? Me?" Desmond gestured at himself wildly. "Look, I'm not some trained interrogator- I'm a regular guy. Hell, I'm just a bartender from New York!"
"That's exactly why we need you."
He stared at her blankly. "...Because I'm a bartender?"
"In a way, yes." Lucy sighed, looking very tired. Her bruise had lost some color, but it still contrasted sharply with the paleness of the rest of her face. "You've talked to many customers during your time as a bartender, surely. Maybe even made friends with some of the regulars. You know how to interact with complete strangers and get them to spill their life stories."
"Wha-" He managed, "That's a complete stereotype!"
"Stereotype or not, you're the best person for the job out of the four of us. Rebecca doesn't have the time to do this. Besides, she has issues with the guy from when she knew him before. Shaun..." Lucy grimaced. "He'd probably get pushed out of a window in the first few seconds of them talking. And you know why I'm not a good choice." She smiled ruefully. "I don't want to die just yet."
"Hey, I don't want to die either." He added, albeit a bit halfheartedly.
"He's not going to kill you." She told him, "His sister wouldn't approve."
Yeah, sure. That made him feel a whole lot better. His survival depended on how much a violent, murderous Templar cared about his sister- which according to Rebecca, wasn't all that much. Desmond just hoped that Rebecca was wrong.
"So, um. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just go up to him as he's dicing up a horde of Infected and ask him how he's doing?" He raised an eyebrow.
Lucy shrugged. "Hell if I know. Just do your male bonding thing. If you can get to Shaun, you can get to anyone."
His mouth dropped open. "Male bonding? You want me to go up to the guy and- and ask him if he wants to go for a drink? Go demolish skyscrapers together? We don't really have any... shared activities or ambitions, you know."
"I don't know. The two of you both seem to enjoy jumping off tall buildings." She deadpanned. "Look, don't worry about it. Just... try. If he ignores you, well, we don't get the information. Not a huge loss, considering we don't have any in the first place."
Desmond sighed. He... was really going to regret this. "I'll do it," He said grudgingly, "But if I end up as a smear on the concrete, I swear I'm coming back from the grave and haunting all of you."
He ran through the empty street, vaulting over empty cars and barricades, a flimsy plastic bag hanging from one hand. If anyone had been there to see him, they would have stared and- maybe- taken a phone video. No human could run that fast, just as no human could leap over the barbed wire with the ease he just had. But there were nobody left, all evacuated or dead.
The only ones left in the Red Zone were monsters and idiots. Alex Mercer considered himself the former.
A soaring leap brought him a few dozen feet away from the tall apartment building where his sister resided. He stopped momentarily. Should he actually use the (miraculously still working) elevator inside, spend a few torturous minutes in a tight enclosed space, but make Dana happy? Or, he could just go his usual way and get a book thrown at him.
Screw it. It wasn't like getting hit by a book will do anything more than annoy him. Not having the freedom to move for any amount of time, on the other hand...
Alex jogged toward the building at a blinding speed, got to the side of the building, and kept running. His foot stomped onto the side of the apartment wall and, before gravity could take its toll, his other foot was already on the next step. The windows rattled as he climbed, sending loose bricks and dirt falling to the ground below- a ground that was getting more and more distant as he made his way up, fifty feet, a hundred feet, a hundred fifty...
There. He grabbed onto the window sill and, with his free hand, shoved the windows open. Alex scrambled up and in, catching a glimpse of the familiar room he 'shared' with his sister before something splashed onto him, drenching his head and upper body. The bucket clattered to the ground and rolled away. The cool liquid covered his face and filled his open mouth, making him splutter.
The hell was this? It looked like water, but it gave him a uncomfortable, tingling sensation on every part of his body it had touched- even, for some odd reason, his clothing. It was like those parts of him were getting taken apart on a minuscule scale.
"I warned you that I thought of something better!" Dana crowed, stepping out from inside the bathroom. "I felt you coming up here minutes ago, so I got my bucket and- Just how hard it is to come up here the regular way? It's not like elevators are going to kill you, I'm not even asking you to go up the stairs."
He didn't reply, too busy shaking the liquid off his body. She faltered, and asked with slight worry, "Hey, are you alright? The bucket didn't hit you on the head or anything, did it? I mean, I don't know if you can even get hurt by that, but... Wow, you look like a drenched cat."
"Phbbt," said the Monster of Manhattan. He grabbed Dana's jacket that was hanging from her chair and, ignoring her shout of indignation, wiped his face with it. "What the hell was that?" He managed, finally getting all the liquid out of his mouth.
"That?" She asked, confused. "It's just the old bucket of water over the door trick."
Water? But that had felt nothing like what water was supposed to feel like, at least according to the hundreds of years of other people's memories he had gained over the past few days. Thinking about it, he hadn't actually touched water- or rather, didn't remember doing so from his own memories.
"Why did you ask? What, was there something else in there?" Dana asked, looking concerned. "I just refilled it from the sink. Is the water supply contaminated? Oh fuck, I'm sorry, I just wanted-"
"No, it was just regular water." Alex decided with a grimace. Damn. Guess water was something he should avoid from now on. The amount of water he came into contact didn't do much other than making him feel incredibly uncomfortable, but he knew that would be different if he jumped into the ocean or something like that.
"Alright, that's a relief. Hey, do you want to change or something? It's just that you've been wearing that same leather jacket and jeans combo ever since the outbreak happened, and that was days ago. I'm not saying that you smell, but I don't know, it's just a little strange. Besides, your clothing is wet already-" Her eyes widened. "Oh shit."
He stared as Dana ran over to the bag of goods he had dropped during his initial freak-out and, after some rummaging through its contents, breathed a sigh of relief.
She grabbed a can of processed, artificially shaped slices of starchy root vegetables (sprinkled, to Alex's confusion, with pieces of crystalline mineral) and after a brief struggle with the plastic cap, shoved a piece in her mouth, crunching energetically. Dana interpreted his stare wrongly and held a piece out to him.
"Hey, you want one? It's really good. Good thing they didn't get soggy. Or stale." She said excitedly, "I don't know where you found these, but I didn't even know there were any left in this city!"
"No." He grimaced.
"You know, Alex?" Dana told him through a mouth of potato mush, "I think I have a good idea."
He raised an eyebrow. Dana's 'good ideas' usually turned out to be everything but.
"You should actually try eating normal food! I know that, um, you eat other... things, but maybe you can ease yourself into eating something different. Like allergy shots." She held out the can of potato crisps. "A potato chip isn't going to kill you. Just one. Please?"
Alex relented, reaching into the can gingerly and retrieving a single paper thin slice of root vegetable. He stared at it, holding it precariously between two grease tipped fingers, mentally willing his feeder tendrils to consume the... 'potato chip'.
"Well?" Dana asked, staring at him expectantly. "Are you going to stare at it or eat it?"
He looked at her blankly. Oh, right. Alex had seen her eat before, shoveling the oily bits of starch and plant material into her open mouth. Though he himself had never tried consuming that way... cautiously, haltingly, he placed the chip in his mouth and 'swallowed'- that is, drew the chip somewhere into his shoulder area. It felt uncomfortable, digging slightly into the surrounding biomass.
Alex stared at Dana in silence, determinedly ignoring the urge to expel the foreign substance from his body.
"Um," She said finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, "Did you just... swallow that whole?"
"...Yes?" He replied, slightly confused. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? "Something wrong with that?"
"No, um, it's just. People usually chew their food before they swallow them. But that's okay!" His sister grinned. "So how did it taste? You want another one?" She shook the can in front of his face. "You used to like them when we were kids. I'm not sure about now, but..."
"It... I don't think I should try another one." Her face fell, and Alex tried his best not to feel guilty. "Look, I'm sure it's good under normal circumstances, but I don't think processed goods work out well for me right now. Besides," He added, in an attempt to cheer her up. "We have a lot to worry about right now. Let's leave this whole... food thing until after we get rid of Greene and the infection, alright? I promise, after we're off this island, I'll eat all the potato chips you want me to."
It worked. She smiled brightly and jokingly said, "I'll hold you to it. You're stuck here with me for the time being, but no running off as soon as you get the chance, alright?" The again was unspoken, but obvious to both parties. "Deal?"
"...Deal." Alex said awkwardly. If his whole deal with Karen went the way it was supposed to, then he should be completely normal by the time Dana decided to make good on his promise. Speaking of his ex-girlfriend- and it was still so strange to think of her as one, for unlike Dana, he couldn't bring himself to feel any attachment or affection for her- the blonde had told him that she was getting close. All she needed was a few more samples and he would be normal again.
"I need to go." He told Dana, "Karen needs some more genetic samples. I'll... I'll come back soon, alright?"
"...Right, Karen." A strange emotion flickered over his sister's face. "Yeah, go ahead. It's important, more than- more than just hanging around here." Her eyes widened. "Hey, I forgot to tell you something. One of the Assassins asked if he could accompany you out to the city. Said he needed to get an understanding of the current situation."
Alex grimaced. "Dana..."
"Yeah, I know, I know. But you don't have to be his babysitter. Apparently, Desmond can take care of himself. Maybe just slow down... a tiny bit?"
"...Desmond?" His eyebrows furrowed. There had been two males among the group of 'Assassins'.
"He's the one wearing the white hoodie. Pretty distinctive, especially with that scar over his lip. Can't miss him." Dana told him. "You two can be the hoodie duo! One white, one gray, they fight the infection from day to-"
"Dana."
"Alright, sorry, I just thought it was funny. But seriously, don't worry about it, 'kay? From what I know, Desmond's actually some badass master Assassin with insane parkour skills. He's handy with a knife." Seeing the doubtful expression on his face, she continued, "Fine, yeah, I know he doesn't really look like it. Apparently, he used to work in New York as a bartender a few years back. But I trust my sources."
Being handy with a knife won't do much to the Infected. A five foot long blade, on the other hand... But seeing the look on Dana's face, Alex relented. "Fine. But if he gets infected or killed, don't hold me accountable for it. Staying alive is his problem." At least the Assassin wasn't that blonde bitch. He scowled at the thought.
"Sure thing." Dana grinned. "Hey, wait, before you go, lemme get you something. They were gathering dust in my closet anyways- they seemed pretty cool, and they were on sale, so I just got them. But I guess these would be useful now."
He looked at the circular black plastic pieces dubiously. "What are they?"
"They're two way communicators! I figured that this way, I can always contact you if shit happens- even if you're on the other side of the island. You see, I tweaked these a bit- usually the range is much smaller. But what can I say? I'm good with technology." She picked one up and placed it over her ear. "See? This is how you wear it. You won't even notice it."
"...Right. Thanks." Alex put the other one on carefully, feeling strangely awkward when he did so. "Thanks."
He made his way to the window and, after pushing the windows open, leapt out into the Manhattan evening. He landed with a thud, forming a large crater on the ground and sending an empty car flying. The car alarm went off, blaring loudly into the night.
Alex's enhanced senses picked up a sound from far up the apartment building. It sounded vaguely like, "Goddammit, Alex!". He ignored it.
He took off running into the night- but before doing so, almost as an afterthought, took off the communicator Dana had given him and put it in his pocket. It sank into the biomass, essentially muffling all sounds that might go through. If anything came through it, on the other hand, he could feel the vibrations. But in all honesty, he did not want Dana to hear the sounds he heard on a daily basis- be it the dying gasps of Blackwatch soldiers or the sickening screams of civilians being torn apart by the hulking Infected.
A/N: Reviews are my drug. Feed my addiction.
Question I want to ask. Should Karen Parker live? The plot can go either way right now.
