Altair tried to control his excitement as he and his descendent hastily made their way aboveground. To be honest, he had waited years for this. His apple, the one that he had been burdened with from the moment he first picked it up, had warned him that this time would come. It had shown him snatches of the future, enough to know that one day he would be a part of it.
Still, the future was strange. The apple had not shown him everything, and when he tried to blend among the people of the twenty first century, he often found himself the subject of strange looks. His lack of English made things worse- every language he knew was at best a few centuries out of date.
So he went underground. He knew where the apple was kept, and how to enter the structure without an apple being actually present. It did not take long to find that the templars were after first civilization secrets, or to realize that he needed to prevent them. So he burrowed down in a corner of the cavernous hall, and waited.
He did venture aboveground occasionally, but only very rarely. For supplies, once in a while. Once in a failed attempt to stop templar agents from planting their bombs in the field nearby. Another painful reminder to Altair that foreknowledge is not always enough to make a difference, or to stop a disaster from happening.
But mostly, Altair stayed underground, dwelling on everything he had lost. They were happy memories, tarnished by the dark feelings of loss and regret that lay over them. His family deserved better.
"You coming?" Altair had stopped at the bottom of the ladder that led out and up, to let Desmond climb up first. Lost in his thoughts, he had not followed him up.
"Yes," he called back, and began to climb. At the top, Desmond was waiting, his posture slightly nervous as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"Do you know where they will take the apple?" Desmond asked.
"They have a base near here," said Altair. It was nice to hear and speak his own language again, even if it was slightly eerie. Desmond, through his time in the animus- one of the worst elements of the future that the apple had shown him- had copied Altair's language exactly, event down to the accent. Listening to Desmond was like hearing his own voice from someone else's mouth.
"I know it." Desmond nodded. "But if we go there, the templars are going to kill us. There are just too many of them." He made a wry face. "And if they don't kill us, my dad will probably do it for them if he finds out I went running off without even letting him know."
"we can catch them before they ever reach their base," said Altair. He kept his voice confident, athough he had no idea how it could be done- only that it had to be.
"Alright," said Desmond. He hesitated, and seemed to stare off at something over Altair's shoulder. When Altair turned around to look, he saw the school's staff parking lot behind him. "I think I have an idea."
-/-
Two skills Altair had not known Desmond possessed- stealing motorcycles and riding them. But not only was Desmond apparently talented in both respects, he seemed to be enjoying it. Altair, riding the 'borrowed' machine behind Desmond, decided quickly that he did not like it nearly so much. It was probably not the worst journey of his life- but it was close.
Still, the bike was fast, and that was what they needed. They were getting close to the apple. Years spent so near a precursor artefact had taught Altair to sense them, and as Desmond snaked the motorcycle around angry motorists and onto a highway, he knew they were minutes away from their quarry.
Altair kept his eyes only half open as protection against the wind, which made it hard to look for whatever car the templars had carried the apple away in. Finally, he spotted it. "There" he pointed two lanes over, where an armored trunk was chugging away, about a hundred yards ahead. Desmond nodded and maneuvered the motorcycle until it was right behind the van.
"How do we get inside that?" Desmond asked.
"We don't," said Altair, and closed his eyes.
Another thing he had learned from the apples- they were not built to be contained.
Inside the van, he knew the apple was responding to his concentrated efforts. It would be slowly heating up, growing warm and then hot, in answer to his needs. It took nearly a full minute, but then he heard a sizzling noise as the apple melted straight through the bottom of the truck, then a clunk as it fell onto the highway's tarmac surface. Quick as he could, Altair leaned down and snatched the apple up as they passed.
It was perfectly cool in his hand.
"How did you do that?" Desmond demanded.
"Never mind," said Altair. "Just get away from here!"
The motorcycle revved again, and Desmond accelerated, swerving around the truck. Someone inside the truck noticed the glow of the apple in Altair's hand, and opened fire. It was too late, though- the two assassins rapidly left the truck behind.
-/-
Back at the school, Desmond and Altair regarded eachother across the motorcycle. Desmond had returned it to exactly the place he had taken it from, none the worse for its adventure. No one, with any luck, would ever know it had been taken.
"What will you do with it?" Desmond asked, nodding at the apple.
"Take it somewhere," said Altair. There were other places that could guard the apple, he knew. Places he could only hope the templars knew nothing about. "Hide it. Then, I will come back."
"Good," said Desmond. "it would be nice to talk without..." he made a gesture that somehow managed to encompass the apple, the templars, and their highway adventure all in one.
"Yes," Altair agreed. "It would be. And besides, this is not over."
"What isn't?" Desmond asked.
"The templars will not give up until they have what they need to finish their work. And before you ask-" Desmond already had his mouth open. "No, I have no idea what they're doing. I only know they have some sort of plan, and any fool could see that."
"We'll find out what it is," said Desmond. He nodded at Altair. "Good luck."
"And you as well."
-/-
Ugh. So... yea, not very happy about how this turned out. Turns out, Altair is not fun to write. Yuck.