Notice: Beta-read by the stupendous swegm!
In this chapter, I'm going to make it quick but indirect towards the next "Guide" because I'll need most of this chapter just to introduce them. And another "Easter Egg" character. (Yep. That's what I'm calling the non-Guide characters now.) So close, guys!
Also, I had hoped to update this quickly. Nope. My folks went back to rearrange my surgery sched and for all I know, I could be heading to the hospital within this week as I write this. That, and surprisingly a good amount of things happened while I wasn't writing. (Like me becoming Tumblr famous, even for a less than 200 notes, BUT STILL. So, regardless of it only being a week's stay, the last chapter after this will be late purposely.
By the way, if you'll be taken aback by what'll happen, then good! So will Desmond, so it'll all part of this experience. OrO
Read on~!
Interlude
Melanie just bid me a good day after I woke up from what I almost thought was a terrible nightmare, though it might well have been that. She apologized for all I had to go through and congratulated me that, in spite of it all, I was able to give them amazing footage from my Animus.
And now, here I am, out of that bunker of mine and being sent back to my cubicle, like nothing had ever happened.
But I just can't believe all that happened to me.
First, I got accepted into one of the highest-paying research analyst gigs on the continent. Then, I got to relive this unbelievably unexpected adventure as Edward James Kenway, one of Sample 17's ancestors, who had the most interesting but difficult life in all the Seven Seas. Damn Animus, putting all this seaman lingo into my head... Oh, did I forget to mention that the "generous donation" Melanie mentioned included Desmond Miles' entire body? And, perhaps because this job was too good to be true, I get dragged into a conspiracy that was bigger than this whole company!
Uncovering all the dirt about Abstergo's research, including the man who pioneered the Animus, then discovering Templars and Assassins and Sages and Precursor races... And all of this is still going on. In fact, the man who was coaxing me to do hacking was, in fact, the Sage himself. Some kind of... incarnation of him. And he almost killed me. But now, he's gone. They say he was nowhere to be found, but I have a gut feeling that Abstergo's got plans for John Standish.
No wonder the pay was so admirable... This place is nuts.
As I walk back to my cubicle, I can hear people muttering things; some welcoming me back, some wanting to quit due to the restrictions, and others just expressing their relief that the hack issue was pinned on John Standish and done with. But I myself am not faltered.
There's something going on with this project—no-something to do with this company. I saw the trailers for 'Pirates Of Nightmares' while I was poking around servers. Jokes, all of them. Not like all the work our crew had gathered. Or maybe that's Kenway talking in me. Makes me wonder what else would be edited—or what had been—in these games.
My communicator's acting up. I look at it and receive a call. The voices of the courier lady and the coffee dandy come up. More hacking? Hmm. I'm already far gone. Besides, I'd like to see where "the good guys" would really take me with all this. With my Level 3 security check, there's still more work to be done...
On His Way To...
This Realm was seriously messing with him. Who would have thought he would meet not one, but two of his ancestors at one place? Granted, the other one wasn't a Guide, but the account of the English boy in front of him who was murdered by his son of an opposing faction shouldn't be ignored.
Desmond felt the throbbing on his right arm gradually increase, but he clenched on the grass under him as he tried to concentrate on the children with him.
"'Lost and Forgotten', you say...?" he coaxed out of himself, looking to his ancestor while putting aside the throbbing. Two Connors, really? He then forced a weak smile at the native boy before adding, "This has really been an amazing journey so far, Connor. After everything I've been through in the living-or Material Realm, I don't know-it's well-appreciated that I get just stop and," he briefly paused before finding the right word, "reconsider what's happened. Everything that's happened. But-Hey, where are you all going?"
The American stopped his monologue as the other "children" with Connor had begun rising from where they sat on the grass and started off, but young Haytham looked back to them and shot, "Oh, posh. We're just going to give you two some time to wrap this all up. Besides..." The English boy waved a farewell at Connor Davenport and Jimmy Holden, who were both running ahead of him back to the fields. As he himself moved faster but to another direction, he spoke again to Desmond. "You're not the only one doing some 'catching up' here, young man!"
Strange. Haytham's voice had sounded... deeper as the words flowed in his ear. But as he blinked back at his diminishing figure, the English boy was gone. He was replaced by an older man, far older with graying and the same inner frock and vest from his Colonial wear, but the smile he wore was nothing he could recall in any Animus session. And out of nowhere, another man appeared next to Haytham. Blond mesh of hair and a formal attire that did not suit him, but he patted the Englishman as if he were the older and fonder. They made a quick glance at the remnant sitting on the grass and were gone.
Desmond was confused and curious, but he felt like he knew the man Haytham left with. He turned to Connor—finally, just one Connor left—and was about to inquire, but the boy raised a hand and shook his head. "You can ask them yourself when we are done. But, Desmond... Listen."
The boy rose up, about as high as Desmond's head while he was sitting, and put his small, copper hands on the man's shoulders. Whatever reason it may be, the gesture had calmed Desmond down. He felt absolutely... safe. And the bliss he felt from when he first came to the Realms was washing over him. Even the throbbing in his arm had lessened, though it lingered still.
"I saw you once before. In a vision."
"You... You did?" It wasn't the first time an ancestor had known about his future existence as their descendant, but to have it happen this frequently was enough to surprise the man. He looked tentatively into the big brown eyes of his ancestor, awaiting his answer.
Connor gave off a small tug of his lips and answered with a nod, "Yes, I have. The Apple..." Desmond almost flinched at the mention of the artifact, but the other continued on. "I never once thought then that I would ever even set sight on it, but the Piece of Eden, circumstantially, drew me into a manifestation of a world I'd rather not define to you, but it felt so real, my child." He looked down slightly, perhaps remembering whatever manipulation the Apple had on him, but Desmond dared not interrupt.
And continue, the Kanien'kehá:ka did. "It was a mere illusion, but as I went to have my original self together, one of the memories the Apple showed me... it was the Temple. And in it, you were there. "
A pang in his chest made the man feel constricted, the memory of holding that pedestal and the life being sucked out of him, causing his hands to hold onto Connor's arms, as if the short limbs were life support. He only wanted to push it away. Escape the memory and the pain, oh why was he feeling pain, WHY, WHY—
"Shhh, now. It is over." The agonizing urge to run away and let go and scream crept out of his mind when his ancestor's soft voice brought him back to his senses. He didn't even realize that the boy had lowered his arms from his shoulders and those small copper hands had taken hold of his right arm... Oh god, why did it look burnt?! Was that why he was feeling the pain again?
"The pedestal is gone, Desmond." Again, Connor shushed him, soothing a palm over the burn and somewhat lessening the memory of the pain.
For the first time since he had stepped foot into the meadow, Desmond felt fear. Not the nervous feeling of meeting dead people, but downright terror. But the boy continued to speak, something the man took as a way to grasp himself, and said, "As much as I hated what Juno had made me do-made us do…" He halted the statement and looked the man in the eyes. "I finally understood what all my struggling amounted to and that it amounted to you, Desmond. You and your choice."
"My choice..." Desmond spoke but left off as he glanced once more at his right arm, still charred in soot, then looked back to Connor and said, "I can't believe that space wizard spent thousands of years of planning and manipulation for all this."
"But regardless," Connor said. "You chose that path, even when it lead to such sacrifice." And more serious in tone, the boy added, "Choice is an important apparatus in life, and free will is so important, that even the First Civilization saw importance in even the least assuming of choices."
"And you made most decisive choice of all."
The man perked up. That adult voice... in this realm...
He froze in place, not because of suspicion, but because that voice... he knew of it. And his ears welcomed them like the safest haven of any place. Finally snapping out of it, Desmond turned his head to see if...
The man looking down at them both smiled, the scar on his lips bending slightly. Altaïr ibn-L'Ahad was here, dressed once more in his Mentor robes. He couldn't believe it... another ancestor was with them!
Desmond felt Connor let go of his arm and he turned to him with eyes of fascination and surprise, but the boy only curved his lips and, with a nod, got up. He then looked up to Altaïr, and Desmond took this time to stand himself up. He turned his attention to the older and asked, "How'd you get here, Altaïr?"
The other crossed his arms first, but his reply was still pompous. "The same way you came here, Desmond."
"You mean you kissed Lucy?" Even with the traumatized memory blast, the man had some sarcasm left in him.
"He didn't kiss me, Des. Really." And with a jerk of his head, the man's vision was welcomed by Lucy Stillman, who was dressed just like she was when Desmond left her at the last realm. With her hands on her hips, she added matter-of-factly, "We all came here through the energy between the realms."
Still shocked, Desmond was about to reply to her when he heard a heartfelt laugh. "And why was I left out of this part, eh?" Another quick turn and Desmond faced Ezio Auditore da Firenze, still in his farmer's attire, but with that same signature smirk.
Now he was overwhelmed by all these familiar faces looking at him with such compassion, but he still wanted answers. And this time, having gone through too much, he was getting them.
"Please... can all of you just tell me where this journey of mine-and what kind of journey I'm taking-and what does it all get me with?" He cared little for his stammer because he had had it. If his journey was almost over, then he wanted to know exactly what he got into.
All of his Guides looked at one another, nodding and humming and smiling benevolently, before Ezio went to first speak up. "Do you remember when you first came to Altaïr's library, Desmond? And when you were confused by how you lacked pain and felt only bliss?"
He had to think for a moment, but he nodded, having remembered both those things, and awaited another answer from his Guides.
Next, Lucy replied, "When you touched that pedestal, it not only drained you of your life energy, but it threatened to dismember your metaphysical consciousness."
Desmond's brows crunched together in confusion. "My-My what, now?"
"Your soul, Desmond." And it was Altaïr this time, going over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder before he continued. "The Grand Temple's massive intake of power nearly shredded you at your soul's core, child."
"But we all saved you, Desmond." Connor–Ratonhnhaké:ton, he thought finally– this time, went to his side and held his hand and looked up at him, saying, "We took hold of your energy so that when you passed that life, you would still be able to regain yourself."
Desmond turned to every one of them and hurriedly asked, "Was that why I was lacking negative feelings before? Or why I only felt pain upon being so close to the end of this journey?"
Ezio, strode over to him and put a hand in his other shoulder, having Desmond between him and Altaïr, and spoke again, "It's to make sure that when you get here, you will be able to find yourself once more. To build up you rmetaphysical self as you go through the five of us."
Right. There was still a Fifth Guide.
But Desmond had a few more questions to ask of them. Raising his blackened arm to them, he asked, "Then why is this still acting up? Is it because I'm not done yet?"
Unsurprisingly, they all nodded in response.
He sighed, more heavily than he had even been able to since he started this journey. Journey... The word itself had been marked into him since he came to the Library. As if it were inevitable, the man recoiled his arm to stare at the blackened skin. Halfway through the journey, it had been aching gradually and now he had to suppress the memories of that day. The last thing he did before that was to tell Rebecca, Shaun, and his father to run away from the Temple.
At that, he couldn't help the sad smile and murmured, "Even before my expiration, I went and played the hero."
As he stared down further, another hand went to encase his fingers around the palm. He quickly looked up to find Lucy, so close that they were a mere foot apart.
She had her bright blue eyes on him, her look almost altruistic as she gently said, "You weren't playing the hero, Desmond. Or the pawn, and no, not even the accessory. You were only doing what was right, even at the cost of…" The woman left off, a gentle squeeze to his arm finishing her sentence for her.
That feeling of bliss from the first moment he came to this afterlife returned. His ancestors and the woman he wished he hadn't sacrificed were an ensuring presence around him. It was quiet in the Meadow, but this time, a pleasant moment of silence was felt. Just the five of them among greenery, wind, and sunshine. One word came to mind upon feeling it all.
Eden.
This place. This realm. This new journey. It was the biblical kind of Eden and not the Eden of the Precursor Race. When that thought came, his right hand clenched as his arm once more felt the throbbing. But this time, he was ready.
As if on cue, his Guides all let go of him, the looks on their faces another "see you later" to him. As a finality, the first Guide said in an instructing fashion, "If you still have your disk, then I'd advice you to bring it to the Fifth."
"My disk?" Desmond questioned while fishing out the plastic container. Right. Altaïr gave it to him right before he got sucked into that portal. For some kind of miracle, the disk felt important. He held it firmly before pocketing it once more.
And with that, the Second told him, "That throbbing of yours will only be gone when you finally find yourself, both metaphysically and existentially." The Auditore then chuckled and added, "Don't be so glum, brother. You'll be better than fine when this is all done."
He said "done" and not "over." Somehow, he felt better hearing that.
The Third then put a hand to his cheek, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before saying in such a tender tone, "If you ever feel lost, only remember to find yourself upon reaching the Fifth."
Warm. So much warmth he felt after that. A tan hand went to caress the pale one as he replied, "I found you again, didn't I? I just hope I won't get so out of it."
"You will not, Desmond. But you will feel all we have tried to shield from you." The Fourth went and tugged gently at his other arm and made nod at his direction before continuing, "The final bridge of your journey is yonder that way. But fear not."
And with one look up, the boy finalized, "You will be able to not only find yourself, but understanding and worth in all you have endured. And try to think of us, not for what you learned of us, but for what we helped to make you see your worth."
He was being sent off. Maybe... no. He was ready for this. With the disk in his pocket, Desmond nodded. "Thank you... all of you." With his gratitude expressed, he pulled up his hood, feeling it right somehow to take up the mantle of the Brotherhood this time, and made one last look at all four of them, taking them in and painting their warm expressions at him before he turned and began walking.
With every step, he felt the aura of the four diminish one by one. He needed not turn around to find out, but he kept on, moving through the foliage and dirt road that was once so noisy with children but now so heavily quiet
Finally, the aura from his Guides was gone. And somewhat, he felt heavier as he stepped into the forest. Suddenly, doubt had crept within even a smidge, but a hand went to his pocket to feel the disk. The image he had of the four instilled in his mind vividly, and he used its significance to shield off any more of those doubts.
Further still he went, the trees and bushes thickening, but the sun—or whatever source of light was giving it off—seeping through the leaves and branches. His feet lead him to where his gut wanted to go. And even if he hadn't the slightest idea where he would go, Desmond knew which direction it was.
He had always known.
Interlude
Another file from their research analyst friend. She had gotten it the other day when she and Shaun met up with them at the 'Maestro' coffee stand at the Lobby. To think that the Templars weren't so discreet with using brand names for their Abstergo front that hinted at their organization's ultimate goal. Huh.
Two hours had passed since then. Rebecca made several detours through Montreal before coming to the "apartment" she and the team had propped up. It was difficult too, trying to find an ideal lot in the city that was far from any surveillance from Abstergo's counter-spying technology. As for what was there, she dealt with those quickly with rerun footage and just all-out evading their feed.
But going over the downtown's alleys before entering their hideout, the woman could finally take a breather. Closing the door behind her and locking it, she went through the fairly lit hallway and moved loosely toward the end of the hall, another door with a blue-tinted light streaming under the slits of the door frame.
She then stopped in front of the door, took out the communicator she had and checked out a specific folder. It was labeled "Subject 17." And with relief, it had a decent amount of files in it. The files themselves weren't too essential in their fight against Abstergo Industries, but they had Desmond in it; when he was arrested, when he escaped, what they had collected over that one year, and even his selfie pictures. There were audio files as well, but upon listening to the first few seconds, they realized it wasn't all for them. No. They knew who Desmond wanted to speak to through those audio files. His last memoirs before—
Rebecca shook herself before the memory could recreate the remorse of losing not only a fellow Assassin, but a selfless friend. Scolding herself, she was going to know on the door when the other end of the hinted the door opening and slamming shut. The slam caused her to turn around, but she calmed and even smiled upon seeing who came in
"You made it... How'd you shake off security?" As Shaun came up to her, he seemed breathless. He even had a few beads of sweat on his brow and clutched his satchel upon catching his breath.
It wasn't a mystery that Shaun had already worked at Abstergo before, albeit under cover before he was recruited, but now they had to be sure nobody at the Montreal branch knew about him.
A few more huffs before Shaun straightened himself up, wiping the sweat from his forehead and answering, "Right... Well, I asked a few co-workers if I could tag along with them for a late lunch. They all wanted to go Dutch and I was just more pay for the check."
The man closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and groaned, "Hard to believe the guards actually were eying me, but I doubt they knew specifically why they had to. Anywho, after my quick appetizer, I excused myself, saying I had an errand to do for the coffee stand and they let me go out and I scurried as fast as I could halfway here." The Englishman gave a hard look at the door, then lowered his gaze at the light seeping through. "You.. .you ready to give Bill what our good 'friend' shared with us?"
Rebecca gave off a smile to the man, trying not to laugh at the seriousness of their situation and, before propping up a fist to knock the door, chided, "I was just about to go in. Come on."
When One Needs A Compass...
Time didn't seem so consistent or consequensing at all. Another stream to jump over, more bushes to rustle through, a dirt-patched slope to slide down, and Desmond had no hold on how far or how long he had travelled into the thickening of that forest. Not that he was feeling tired, but he was wary of how his hike through the woods was going on and on. The fact that his movements in the forest were the only sounds to be heard didn't help him feel any less paranoid. But he felt that wherever he was supposed to meet his Fifth was close. So very close, in fact, that his right arm was acting up again, but he would clutch the disk in his pocket every time it did and the feeling would subside. For how long it would be doing that, he wasn't sure.
Then, he stopped. He didn't know why at first because he didn't bother noticing the forest itself while he went on, but the aura of the area was so loudly screaming at him to be given attention to that he finally took the time to observe his surroundings, which had drastically darkened into nighttime. When he took in the view, he couldn't believe it.
It was The Farm. The Assassin training facility he was raised in. It was still wholesome, unaffected before the Rapture. His parents' house was still where it was. Even the old Detroit greenery surrounding the isolated area was intact. How did he get into The Farm? And more importantly, why?
For whatever reason, Desmond suddenly felt anxious. It was like his heart was pounding the blood into his ears and he wanted to flinch at every little corner of the facility, the night just dark enough to be concealed in...
The man suddenly turned and stiffened at a thumping on the ground. Someone was here with him, but why should he be afraid? For all he knew, it could have been his Fifth. But deep down, he didn't feel it was them. Whoever was with him was another being or soul. It was coming closer. He had no weapons of any kind upon coming to the Realms and he might be facing an enemy—
Oh shit! He was coming closer!
And with that, Desmond grew agitated and consumed by his paranoia. Stance up and ready to fight—or flee, if needed—he faced the direction of the figure and shouted, "Stop and identify yourself!"
"Well, glad you finally made it, buddy." That voice had sounded so snippy and relaxed… And familiar.
"Oh, hold on. One sec." Out of nowhere, the headlights of their area shone at a particular spot in front of him, illuminating the image of a sober young man, in his late twenties, even. And it hit him.
"Clay? It's... it's really you! You're okay!" Desmond, bewildered, but all but loosened, was still surprised as he looked over Clay Kazcmarek, better known as Subject 16, who was standing around like he hadn't committed suicide due to excess exposure to the Bleeding Effect. His stress-induced features were nonexistent. But then, the surprise died down and was replaced with a mixture of gladness and slight disappointment. "You're not them, are you? The Fifth Guide, I mean. Why are you—"
"It's nice to see you too, 17." Sarcasm hinted, Clay made his way to Desmond and patted him on the back. "Listen. Your final Guide is, umm... Well, let's say there's more to them that just talking to you about existentialism. And, from how you can't even tell that this is part of your Memory, I'm not surprised they sent me to you." And then he let go before moving forward, motioning for Desmond to follow.
Desmond, for more times than he'd have liked, was puzzled by his statement. "Wait. What do you mean? I'm in my own Memory?"
But Clay's only answer was to point at a gate near the far side of the compound as they were nearing it, streetlights awakening to light their path ahead and fading away again when they passed. Someone else was around, but he didn't notice them or the fact that the streetlights were shining against the dark night.
He was sneaking about and hiding behind every corner, carrying what he remembered as a stuffed gym bag. White and worn were the hoodie and jeans he wore as he made for the farthest exit. Just watching him go gave Desmond the most bizarre, almost incepting feeling. That young man, who was sixteen and so desperate to get out and see the world, not knowing what was in wait for him in the coming years. "Clay...Is that..."
But the other man was still walking, not bothering to stop when he answered back, "Yes. Yes, Desmond. Come. The other 'Memories' won't be as peculiar as this one. Rather, they'll need me keeping you to your senses as we go to the Fifth."
But Desmond paid little mind to what Clay had said. The whole compound was shifting, like when he met with the other four, and the buildings were deforming, the dark night becoming a grey sky where the buildings formerly were on. And then finally, they neared the young man as he finally made it out of the gates, the image stuck to his conscious.
He just saw his former self escape The Farm.
Author's note: I know, I KNOW. Alot of you probably thought Clay Kazcmarek/Subject 16 was going to be Desmond's Fifth Guide, but since his A.I. had already told Desmond what he needed to know while the man was still alive, I didn't see how it was needed in the plot. But he was of enough significance to Desmond that I included him here in this chapter specifically.
Now, I hope I can finish the last chapter within or after New Years' Day. (Wouldn't you know it? This fic took the entire year of 2014! XD)
Again, thank you guys so much for reading and supporting this fanfic. I hope I can be as productive and, maybe more on-time, with my future fanfics.
Happy Holidays to all of you! OeO)/
~Itchy
