I've already started writing some Eddie chapters (so when I finally get there, they'll be ready to post), and it takes forever to edit, since in the game the dialogue and narrative is given special diction and capitalizing (nouns now become Nouns), and I have no idea if it's all nouns or just, like, special nouns or what. I know it's not really important, but I like to think it'll give Edward some voice, and make it different from Desmond's established POV.


Chapter Nine

Routine Hacking


"So, you gonna let me in on your master plan or what?" Elliott's voice rattled, tinny, in Desmond's ear.

"Master plan?" He squinted up at the dark mauve sky. Snow fell in soft flurries, picked up on an erratic wind that occasionally tossed Desmond's hood. It stayed on, though, and Desmond had to flinch through the cold, traipsing through the two inches of snow. "I don't have a master plan. The plan I have is the plan you know."

"Well, no offense, dude, but it's not a very good one."

"Just shut up and hang on." Desmond muttered as he drew closer to his target. Thanks for the vote of confidence. "I'm almost there."

Although it was nine at night, the streets were lit up, orange and green and blue, and there were plenty of people on the streets. Dressed heavier than Desmond, they walked in groups, off to party or a restaurant or a bar, enjoying themselves as they laughed together, entirely unaware of the lone man using their presence as a cover until he reached Abstergo HQ.

It was a tall, almost lonely silver building, and although there were surely no one left working inside, there were still guards out front, security cameras flicking back and forth. It wasn't like Desmond was going to go in through the front anyways, but the sight of them made him antsy. The last time he snuck into Abstergo, back in Rome, had not gone according to plan.

No one paid him any mind, though, and Desmond passed the building without notice. He kept going until he rounded the corner of the block, before he broke away from his group, ducking into an alleyway behind a large brick building — perhaps the town hall, or the police station, although he hadn't thought to check the sign.

It didn't particularly matter, anyways. The alleyways were particularly spacious downtown, not nearly as dangerous as it was further north.

Luckily, the backside of Abstergo was much less well-guarded than the front. The second building had a camera in the way, which Desmond promptly too out with a well-aimed rock he picked off the ground. The plastic box shot off, pieces scattering as it disappeared into the snowbank below.

He had approximately three minutes before someone came around to check on that.

The maintenance door was easy to find, right next to the loading bay and two dumpsters. A single flickering light illuminated the area, falling on the mounds of snow piling up around it.

"Okay, I'm at the door," Desmond said, keeping his voice low even though there was no one around to hear him. He saw another camera in the corner and, before it could capture him, covered it with black paint from a spray can. "What do I do now?"

"Well, if you don't see a metal box on the wall near you," Elliott replied over the earpiece. "Then it must be inside. I can't get into the power grid if you don't plug me in first."

There were indeed no boxes near him. Desmond tried the door, completely unsurprised to find that it wouldn't budge. It didn't ease his frustration any, though. "Damn, it's locked."

"Uh, maybe find another way in?"

"Don't worry, I got it," Desmond said, bending down to one knee and peering at the keyhole. While lockpicking wasn't exactly his forte, Ezio and Connor had done it enough times that Desmond got the gist of it. Pulling a set of lockpicks from his pocket, he got to work.

"A-are you picking the lock?" Elliott sounded surprised.

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much." Desmond sighed, forgetting he was being watched. He could hear the distant whirr of the drone flying above him, nearly invisible against the sky. It was his idea to use the drones as Elliott's eyes, who otherwise had no idea what was going on stuck in his apartment, apart from what he could hear.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" Desmond made a face, felt a tumbler flick into place.

"Hmm, no, not really." said Elliott. Desmond was relieved he didn't push the matter further. "But when you do get in, just remember, I won't be able to see you. I don't think it's very stealthy to have a drone flying around inside a building."

He just smiled, and with a click the last tumbler fell into place, and testing the handle led to a smooth, swinging door. Keeping to a crouch, Desmond ducked inside, huffing, "I'm in. Now I just have to find the breaker box."

"It'll probably be in the basement. I hope you're not afraid of the dark."

"Me? Nah." The cement floors and walls didn't do much to retain heat, and Desmond crept down the dimly lit hallway. There was no one here, at least not yet, and he didn't spot any cameras. He was sure to find more somewhere in this building. There was staircase to his right and, as luck should have it, led downwards. Peering over the railing to make sure there wasn't another camera, Desmond spotted below.

Flipping over on the other side of the banister, he hung onto the metal bar as he bent down and covered that camera lens with spray paint as well. It wasn't as clean as Desmond would've liked (having control of the cameras themselves would be preferred), but this was all he could manage for now.

Once that was done, he let go of the banister and dropped to the floor below. He landed softly on two feet, keeping low to the ground in case he ran into any guards. There was a door head, what appeared to be a dark room beyond.

He blinked once, and the world turned blue and gray. Beyond the door, Desmond could see a cabinet on one wall, marked in gold. He saw no red figures inside, and deemed it clear.

Yet, when he raised his hand to open the door, a sudden jolt made him gasp and snap his hand back. "What the hell…!"

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Elliott said in his ear, alerted by his voice. "Did something bad happen?"

"N-no, it's nothing," Desmond worked his jaw, frowning at his hand. Although it was covered with the glove, he swore he could see the veins pulsating beneath, red hot against black skin. It had never hurt before, so why now? He certainly couldn't explain it to Elliott, who had no idea.

But then the pain was gone, as soon as it came. Desmond shook out his arm, waiting a second to make sure it was all right, before reaching for the door again and opening it.

Nothing remarkable happened. Then, making sure there were no cameras, he darted over and opened the cover. Inside revealed a complex mixture of switches and plugs. It was by far the fanciest breaker panel Desmond had ever seen, with a small screen detailing info and blinking lights.

Of course it meant nothing to Desmond. "Okay, Elliott, I'm at the box. Tell me what I'm looking at. How do I get you in?"

"You remember those wires I gave you? Take the one with the metal clamps attached to that little box, and hook them around either end of the red wire. At least I'm pretty sure it's red…"

"How sure?" Desmond asked as he pulled it out of his bag.

"Like...sixty-seven percent sure."

"Elliott! C'mon, we can't fuck around here. Is it the red one or not?"

"Okay, yes, yes, it's the red one!" Elliott replied, his voice rising a little at Desmond's annoyance. He let out a long breath. "I hope."

"Oh, for the love of…" Desmond just rolled his eyes, grit his teeth, and without waiting to reconsider, he just jammed the clamps on the wire. If this didn't work, then their little mission would be over before it even begun. "This better fucking work."

He checked the box which the clamps were attached to. Two lights and one button, and no label to say what any of them meant. Desmond couldn't remember what the thing was called, but he was pretty sure this wasn't meant to be its intended use. Actually, he was starting to think this thing might be one of Elliott's new inventions, and that did not make him feel much better. "Okay, the light on the whatchamacallit turned from red to green. Is that good?"

"First of all, it's called a System Bypass and secondly, yes, all you have to do now is press the middle button and you're good to go." Elliott said matter-of-factly, and as Desmond did so, he continued. "There, that's dismantled Abstergo's alarm system for the next thirty seconds, before it reboots. Now you just have to flick off all the right switches, which will turn off all power and prevent said reboot. Just avoid the ones that say 'server room'. You think you can do that?"

"Don't mock me," Desmond huffed, swiping his hand across the board. Behind him, somewhere in the building, a low groan emanated, the sound of several power generators winding down, followed by a dull clunk sound as all the lights in the building went off at once. "There, everything's shut down."

"Good. Now you don't have to worry about cameras or heat sensors or whatever the hell Abstergo's got to catch intruders. I bet they have flies with miniature cameras on their backs, watching our every move."

"Let's not ride the crazy train, okay?" Desmond suggested, shaking his head as he removed the System Bypass or whatever and closed the panel to the breaker box. A cold shiver went up his back as he said, "Abstergo's weird, but they can't do that. Yet. I think."

"Oh shit, I just realized, the server room's on the 48th floor. And we just turned off the elevator. Think you can make the climb?"

Desmond left the darkness of the basement and found himself in the new darkness of the stairwell. Although there were a few windows at regular intervals, the ceiling stretched up and up into darkness, so high that Desmond couldn't see it. The spiral of stairs was almost dizzying to take in. "Well, nothing gets the blood pumping like some cardio."
"That's the spirit."

Climbing those steps was a hell of an experience. Desmond started at a light jog of sorts, taking two steps at a time. It was more tiring this way, but he didn't have a lot of time to waste. He was sure there was manned security around here, investigating the blackout.

As he swung around another flight of steps, Desmond thought there was something wrong to all of this, like he was missing something, and it took him three flights to figure out what it was. A little breathless as he ran, he said, "Hey, Elliott, you think you can make me, like, a grappling hook or something? This is taking way too long."

"You watch too much Mission Impossible. And this coming from a guy who loves Mission Impossible."

"I'm just saying. Could be useful," Desmond replied, looking up as he took in how many floors he had left to go. He missed his ancestor's memories, where they could climb the outside of buildings that were not made entirely of sheer glass and metal. "I didn't realize how much more exciting sneaking around is when you're not doing it on a bunch of stairs."

"What do you mean? Just how much sneaking around do you actually do?" Elliott asked, and Desmond actually considered the question for a long moment.

He decided Elliott deserved at least a little nugget of truth; they were partners in crime, after all, and if this all went south, Elliott should at least have an idea of what for. "So you know about that farm I told you I grew up on?"

"Regular Luke Skywalker, yeah."

"Well, uh, did I ever tell you about the other families? The kids?"

"Wait, other families? Where did you say this farm was again?"

Desmond remembered quite clearly he had never told Elliott where he grew up, but decided to humor him anyways. "South Dakota. It didn't have electricity or anything but, uh...they taught us stuff."

"No electricity? Don't tell me you grew up in a cult."

Desmond made a face, pausing at a landing to catch his breath. He leaned against the railing, taking a second to ask himself: Are you fucking nuts? What the hell are you doing? Before he answered with, "N-no, but I mean...it was more of a survival thing. They taught us wilderness skills, I guess. How to climb, how to take care of yourself. How to get around without people noticing you."

"Des...that's kind of weird."

Desmond let out a short, harsh laugh. If only he knew. He took off again, ready to take down the last five flights of stairs. "Well, when you're ten years old, it's hard to tell that when you don't know anything else. I didn't even know about TV's until I got out."

"You're just saying these things to make me feel bad, aren't you?"

That was actually the last thing Desmond wanted, and he was a little unhappy that that was what Elliott took from this. Desmond had never spoken about his childhood to anyone before, at least not to anyone who didn't experience themselves. And yeah, sure, he left out the part about the massive wall encircling the compound, and the fact that he still woke up at 4:30 AM because of the training routines, as well as the fact that his father had interesting ideas on corporeal punishment, and his mother did almost nothing to stop it —

It was a little hard to have it just brushed aside like that by a friend.

"You know what, just forget it," Desmond couldn't hide the edge in his voice, the resentment that boiled in his gut. He hated how his father's words echoed in his head: don't make friends you aren't willing to lose. You can't trust anyone out there. How infuriatingly correct they felt in this moment. "It's stupid."

"Wait, what?" Elliott seemed to sense that he said something wrong. "Oh, no, shit. Bro, that's not what I meant. I just —"

"I said, forget it," Desmond said through gritted teeth, keeping his voice low as he finally reached the 48th floor. He thought he saw the beam of a flashlight swing around inside the glass. "I'm here. I need you to be quiet."

He heard Elliott inhale through his nose, like he still wanted to say something. But thankfully, Elliott held back, and allowed Desmond to concentrate as he quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

The hallway was very silent, and Desmond was all too aware of his heavy breathing. After going up those stairs, he had gotten used to the sound of the blood in his ears, the echoing footsteps bouncing up and down the stairwell. Now they were the absolute worse things, and he found it hard to hear anything else outside the excruciatingly loud sounds he made. How Abstergo didn't know he was here already, he had no idea.

He had to pause, take a breath. Calm his nerves, clear his thoughts.

With a blink, the world turned blue and gray. Something gold flickered ahead, behind a corner only ten feet away. Dropping to a crouch, Desmond snuck closer.

The guard had his back to him, speaking into his radio, flashing his light down the hall ahead of him. "No, no, I don't see anything. Floor Forty-Eight is clear, over."

"Copy that."

The guard tilted his head and opened his mouth to add something else, but before he could do so, two arms wrapped around his neck. The guard gasped, kicking as Desmond pulled him down into a chokehold, covering the man's mouth to prevent him from crying out.

He pulled the guard around the corner, pressing gently around the man's jugular until the loss of blood to his head rendered him unconscious. It would be a while before he woke up again. Desmond released the guard, setting him down gently, before taking the flashlight for himself.

The takedown was almost completely silent, and Desmond was pleased that he had made it this far without killing anyone.

He hoped it might stay that way.

"What was that?" Elliott whispered into the microphone, as though he was there in the hallway with Desmond as he navigated his way to what was apparently the only other door here. "I thought I heard someone choking. Is everything all right?"

He winced a little, but responded curtly, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I really hope we don't run into any guards." Elliott said, the worry in his voice plain to hear. Desmond was relieved that there were no cameras for him to spy with. "The last thing we need is getting you arrested."

Desmond approached the closed door, had just rested his hand on the knob when he actually snorted at that, despite himself. "Trust me, dude, getting arrested will be the least of our problems if we get caught."

"What do you mean?" Elliott asked, just as Desmond opened the door and entered the server room.

Desmond completely forgot to answer him when he saw just what the server room actually was.

"Holy shit," Desmond breathed, taking in the expanse before him. "It's huge."

"Hell yeah it is," Elliott sounded amused, perhaps forgetting Desmond's earlier comment for this one. That was just fine by him. "What did you think it'd be, a little computer in a closet?"

"Well, no, but...damn."

The room took up the entire floor of the building — server tower after server tower lined up in a massive grid, humming ominously in the darkness. Desmond could only make out their flickering lights and the silhouettes they left against the backdrop of the windows and the yellow glow of the city beyond.

The room was almost steamy thanks to the collective heat rising off these machines. As Desmond stepped through the aisles, he asked, "Is it supposed to be so warm in here?"

"Uh," Elliott paused, the background typing coming to a halt. "No. Servers have to be maintained — if they overheat, stuff melts and catches on fire. Which, I mean, it's Abstergo, so who gives a fuck, but I guess we still need to get in the system. We must have cut off the A/C along with the lights. It's okay, though — once you plug me in, I can fix it all before it's too late."

"Awesome," Desmond said under his breath, more to himself as he started down the aisle. The air was filled with a low hum, and he could feel a faint vibration through the floor from all these machines running at the same time.

He picked a tower at random, stepping in front of it so he now faced the doorway. If someone were to come along, Desmond would see them first.

Without a word, he withdrew the other cord, a phone jack, from his backpack, along with Angela Beaumont's cell. Elliott had already explained to him how it worked, and Desmond was reasonably familiar with basic computer terminology, and plugged the USB into the appropriate slot. The phone beeped in his hand, the screen flashing with a loading symbol. "All right, got you plugged in. Can you really access it remotely through the phone?"

"It's called the Cloud for a reason," Elliott sounded a little smug. "You just gotta know how to use it, that's all."

"I see that college degree is really working out for you," Desmond muttered, a little underwhelmed by Elliott's explanation. All this tech stuff was more Rebecca's field of work, and Desmond was really only good at killing people. The phone beeped again, the loading icon disappearing, before returning to the regular lock-in screen. "Damn, it works."

"Of course it works. It's Abstergo's fault that they got such a weak-ass system." Elliott said, his voice joined by the tapping of keys. "I'm accessing their data now. It's gonna take some time, though, for me to get through the other firewalls, but we're in, dude. We're in like Flynn."

"I don't get it."

"Just...never mind." Elliott sighed. "Give me ten minutes, I'll if I can find anything juicy."

Ten minutes, okay. Ten minutes was good. So far, Desmond had run into minimal trouble, and no one seemed to know he was here.

A light gust of air brushed against his shoulders, followed by the sound of the A/C being turned on — Elliott's handiwork, apparently. "Okay, I'm in their building systems. A/C should be on. I also made sure to allocate the generator's power to everything except lighting and security."

"You can do that?" Desmond had to admit, he was a little impressed. He didn't even realize he was hot until then, and pulled at the collar of his hoodie.

"The magic of technology, my man."

Elliott continued to work silently, and Desmond took respite, watching the time passed on Angela's phone and trying not to get himself worked up as the time dragged.

Shifting on his feet, Desmond itched to do something. There was always a lot of waiting when you're an Assassin, watching marks, counting down to the right moment to strike… but not usually just standing around and letting other people do the work. Especially when you were trespassing. The longer he stayed, the riskier this got.

Honestly, Desmond was a little bored. Again.

Then, a twinge in his right arm.

It was faint at first, more like a little pinch than anything distracting. But after flexing his fingers and waiting a few moments, the pain grew,sharply, like someone just held a lighter to his skin. He shook his hand and hissed, "Ow, fuck."

"What? What was that?"

"I-it's nothing," Desmond said, although it had become clear that this was probably not nothing at all. "My hand hurts, that's all."

It was still hidden in the glove, which was starting to feel too thick and tight. Desmond wanted to take it off, wanted his hand to stop hurting, but the ache didn't let up. Rubbing his wrist with his other hand, Desmond's voice was strained when he asked, "So, how's it going, Elliott? Are you getting anywhere?"

"Hold on, I got one last thing to get through…"

Just then, Desmond heard a door-slam. His head shot up, his attention switching from his arm to the sound of someone getting closer. There was a low shout, then crackle of radio chatter. Quick footsteps, and then a beam of flashlight swept into the room, accompanied by a shout, "Smith here, we got an intruder. Lights still out, but servers are on. I think someone's in here. I'll check it out."

"Dude, you should see this," Elliott laughed, apparently catching none of this. "Man, I always knew Abstergo was fucked up, but holy shit...We hit the fucking jackpot."

"Shit," Desmond dropped low, taking the phone with him, quickly unplugging and packing things away. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, "Elliott, I don't mean to rain on the parade, but we have go to. Now."

"Fuck, they found you already?"

"Not yet," Desmond carefully backed himself around the corner of a tower, putting distance between himself and the guards as the flashlight flicked down each aisle. The beam of light fell across the floor just as Desmond hid himself behind the machine. "Please tell me there's another way out of this room."

"On it. You came in from the north entrance, right? Well, there should be one to your right, it leads down the main hallway. I'll try to jam their comms."

"All right, I'm getting out — fuck!" suddenly, another wave of pain shot down Desmond's arm, taking him by surprise. He had to bite his tongue to keep his voice from carrying, clutching his hand to his chest as he curled around it.

Burning, singing pain. Desmond couldn't make it stop. He had no idea why it started in the first place, but now he couldn't think of anything else at all.

He panted, a little out of breath. He could feel the dead skin pulsing, and it made his stomach roil. Desmond knew he had to get out of here before things got worse.

Because they always did.

It took a surprising amount of effort to push himself to his feet. The pain made Desmond just want to curl up and die, but he made himself think, made himself act. As the guard continued walking down to the farhter end of the server room, Desmond ducked out of his hiding spot and started creeping down the other way, searching for the door Elliott told him about.

It was dark, but he could make out the outline of the door against the wall. He was almost there. He could just slip out, take the stairs, and be out of here before anyone saw —

Angela's phone started to ring.

"Who's there!" the flashlight swung in his direction just as Desmond dove to the ground. He just barely managed to get out of the way before two bullets found themselves in the grates of a server.

He scrambled to remove the phone from his backpack, chucking it away from him without bothering to break it first. The phone continued to ring it's stupid cheerful jingle, while Desmond carefully rounded several towers, remaining hidden in the darkness as the sound of the phone drew the guard's attention away from him.

Desmond grit his teeth, unable to keep himself from groaning as he pressed his shoulder against a tower, clutching his arm as the pain continued to grow, as the guard drew nearer, gun raised.

Shit, he forgot they were armed. How the fuck was he going to get out here now?

"What the hell was that?" Elliott's voice was sharp in his ear, too loud. Desmond feared that the guard might hear it, too. "Was that gunshots? Desmond, are you okay?"

Desmond didn't respond. Instead, he waited until the guard drew up to the phone lying lonely on the ground, its screen flickering, demanding to be answered — the man's head was literally right next to his. Desmond remained absolutely still, holding his breath. Blood pounded in his ears.

The guard paused, then slowly looked to his right, to the hooded Assassin standing there in the darkness. Desmond flicked his wrist. Shing.

"Intrud —!" the guard only managed to get half the message into his radio before the hidden blade entered his throat.

The guard dropped, going limp as a ragdoll, gun and flashlight clattering to the ground.

"Oh, great," Desmond muttered, grimacing at his own stupidity. There was already chatter on the radio as the rest of Abstergo's security force responded. He backed away, starting to sweat as his hand grew hotter, along with the pain. "Elliott, how's that jammer coming along?"

"I just did it — why, what happened? Did they see you?"

Desmond had turned around, heading towards the right door, when he threw one last glance at the dead body. The pooling blood glittered under the flashlight's beam. "Don't worry about it, just get me out of here in one piece. Gah!"

He nearly fell to his knees this time, his hand hurt so bad. It felt like his palm was being stabbed a dozen times, searing hot blades slicing through his skin. He couldn't hear Elliott speaking in his ear, the pain was too much. It even made his vision flicker a little, pressing black spots in the corner of his eyes.

No, no, get up! Have to get out of here, can't stay here. Go!

Desmond once more forced himself to stand, even though it was starting to hurt the rest of him, too. He had no idea why the hand was hurting, the hand that before couldn't feel anything at all; he was pretty sure Juno had something to do with it. If only he could make it stop.

The sound of pounding boot steps and slamming doors had Desmond going again. He had just made it to the exit when a spatter of bullets hit the wall over his head.

He gasped, dove for the floor. Eyes level with the floor, he saw half a dozen pairs of boots charge into the server room.

The back-up was here.