Chapter 7

Dear readers,

SURPRISE!

There's nothing to say except that I've put AC off of the stove for a while. Not even a backburner anymore. It saddens me, but it's true. I'm hitting a bit of writer's block with my book, so I'm working on this for old time's sake. Also, happy birthday to Tori! This chapter is dedicated to you, my dear friend. Not to mention AC: Revelations is coming out in November, a realization that almost made me shit my pants. XD

Much love,

AF

Song: Mad World, Gary Jules

"All around me are familiar faces, worn-out places,

Worn-out faces. Bright and early for the daily races,

Going nowhere, going nowhere."

Someone was shaking me awake. A warm hand on my shoulder, gently moving me back and forth until I jolted out of unconsciousness. Groaning, I nuzzled my face into my other shoulder, too tired to realize that it wasn't actually the other shoulder, but the mystery hand. Embarrassed, I flopped away, the hand pulling away like lightning, as though burned. I rubbed my cheeks with the tips of my fingers, yawned, popped my neck, and opened my eyes.

It was Desmond. He was standing back, looking at me in a detached sort of way, almost warily. His brow was furrowed slightly, frozen brass regarding me quietly. Unable to meet his gaze, I dropped my eyes, just in time to see him look away as well.

"Leonardo wants you awake . . ." He said, trying painfully hard not to make eye contact with me. "He doesn't know who everyone is and he hopes you could help him."

I nodded slowly and stood up. Everyone was in the main workshop, milling about. They seemed to be focused mostly on Leonardo, who was weakly attempting to give out instructions to the crowd. As I stood, the artist beckoned me over, looking very frazzled, his blond hair in disarray. I glanced at Desmond for a split second before joining everyone else.

"Okay, artist, what do you need answering?" I asked Leonardo, rubbing the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "Please tell me you have coffee . . ." At Leonardo's confused expression, I made a "continue" gesture with my hand.

"Mio amico, I want simply to know who all these people are and how they got into my workshop." He sighed. One of his hands flew out to point back and forth at Malik and Shaun. The two were in such a heated battle of sarcasm I was sure the water in the air was going to start evaporating. They couldn't even understand what the other was saying, seeing as they spoke two completely and very obviously different languages; nonetheless, it was clear they didn't care for each other and were snarking at each other hard enough that others were starting to stare. Luckily, it didn't seem like anyone had noticed me yet.

"I beg you separate these two." Leonardo pleaded, gesturing at the two sarcastic sidekicks.

I put a comforting hand on Leo's shoulder and began giving short summaries of each of the diverse characters milling about. I could almost see the mental notepad in Leonardo's genius mind filling with writing and bullet points. We needed to hurry, however, because the men and women gathered were beginning to become restless. Standing around making small talk didn't seem to be cutting it for them anymore. Lucy was admiring some of the half-finished sketches and artwork and talking mostly to herself about the quality of some it to Rebecca while the latter idly picked at some loose canvas on the corner of a portrait.

After Leonardo had a bit of a grasp of who everyone was and what language they spoke, he called for everyone's attention. Some didn't know the words, but they got the message. The seven turned to watch the suddenly awkward Leo with varying levels of interest, ranging from an enraptured Lucy to an almost bored-looking Altaïr. The artist, on the other hand, was looking as though he didn't quite know what to say now that everyone was watching him. After several moments of silence, I turned around to see Desmond and Ezio both sitting, not looking at me, each other, or the Assassins gathered. Thinking quickly, I jumped over and grabbed up Desmond and dragged him to where we were all standing.

Confused and slightly ruffled, Desmond opened his mouth to say something but I interrupted him as I brushed off the front of his sweatshirt and fixed his short hair, looking everywhere but in his eyes.

"You're the only one who can speak both Arabic and Italian fluently, Desmond, whether you know it or not so you have to be our translator." I muttered to him at lightning speed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ezio standing, the expression on his face a melting pot of emotions, but the one that I could pick out right away was unbridled murderous rage. Subconsciously, I moved so I was standing between Desmond and his ancestor.

"Just say welcome or something. Say it in all three languages." I said quietly and pushed him forward so that he was the center of attention.

There was a beat of silence, where a flushed and flustered Desmond stood in front of the seven—nine, including Leonardo and I—Assassins and civilians, presumably thinking of what to say. Altaïr was beginning to look impatient, clear due to the dangerous amount of fiddling he was doing with the switch for his hidden blade. Seeing this and noting Desmond's silence, I kicked him in the ankle relatively gently. He stumbled forward, grumbling something over his shoulder before turning back to the assembled crowd.

"Er . . . hi?" He said with a slight question to his voice. He looked back at me quickly. I raised my eyebrows, and he continued, voice cracking sharply several times before he said hi in all three languages, a feat that seemed to surprise even him.

Desmond looked back at me. I pulled him over and whispered rapidly into his ear before he nodded and turned back. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Mister Leonardo da Vinci would like to welcome you to his workshop—"

"I would?" Leo asked rather too loudly. I hushed him quickly as Desmond went on.

"—and asks you to make yourself at home. You . . . er . . . might be here a while, so . . ." He shrugged awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. "Better make some friends." He backed away anticlimactically. There were several half-questioning nods, excepting Shaun, Lucy, and Rebecca, all three of whom were staring at Leonardo at the realization of who he really was. I assumed that Rebecca, at least, had seen him on some screen connected to Desmond and the Animus, but it was a completely different experience when meeting the real deal. Speaking from personal experience, here.

I nodded. We needed to get some control around here, but for now, there was nothing we could do. Well, there was something I could do, though I still felt a bit out of synch with myself for some reason. Quietly excusing myself, I walked back into the bedroom to find the Apple sitting on the nightstand, just where I expected it to be. Picking it up gingerly with both hands, I sat of the bed and looked deep into the gold abyss.

I didn't know what had happened to me. It was a wall of black in my mind that refused to give in. In a sudden rush that could be considered an epiphany, I truly felt like Subject Sixteen for the first time. It scared me; it felt like the edges of my mind were beginning to fray, and I was just pinching them together in hopes that it would become a string again.

I snapped back into reality when I realized my nails had begun digging into the fingertips of my other hand. Sighing sadly, I placed the Apple back on the table. I stared at it for a few more minutes, and it stared back. It was more than just an object to me now. It knew me; probably better than I knew myself. That fact was such an intense, sudden feeling of sadness that I almost crumpled in on myself.

Reality again came crashing down on me as I heard a knock on the door, even though it was open. I looked up to see, with great surprise, Lucy, Shaun, Rebecca, Altaïr and Akilina. They were smiling, excepting Altaïr and Shaun; they looked mostly disinterested, the latter less so. Putting on a mask, I smiled and stood. Lucy gave me a quick embrace, as did Rebecca and Akilina.

"How are you, Anna?" Lucy asked kindly. I shrugged.

"I've been better." I turned to Altaïr and held out my hand. He sighed in distaste, but I saw the hint of a friendly smirk under his hood as he clasped my hand.

"How've you been, eagle?" I asked him, smiling as I saw his smirk morph into a small grin.

"Quite the same." He answered shortly. I grinned knowingly as I looked between Altaïr and Akilina, who were standing just a bit too close together to be friends.

We greeted each other as old friends, and before long Malik came to join the party. I made sure to keep him and Shaun a safe distance away from each other. Maria hung back slightly, but smiled when we made jokes and frowned when she looked at Altaïr.

It felt like old times in Abstergo, without the psychotic Templars and the Animus, and with Malik, Maria, Leonardo, and a whole shitload of unfinished paintings.