followers of my writing blog will have seen some more teasers for the end of the story, which is slowly creeping up on us.

Riiiiiiiiiiiisiiiinnng aaaactiiioooooon


The last time they'd been in New York it had been March and spring had still been something that happened. It had been a mild winter though and there had been no snow and the spring had been wild as well. Now it was May, summer, and New York was green. It had been two months since they'd been here.

Two months.

Hard to imagine it had only been two months, it felt like two life times instead. Desmond had had worse time vertigo though when he lived through five years of Ezio's life and then woke up and only about nine hours had passed. That had been hard to wrap his mind around. So much time had passed for him, yet only a few hours had really done so.

Desmond had his hands in his pockets as they were at a gas station, filling up their bikes. Black, matte, the chrome wrapped or sprayed, and quiet electric things that could yowl like a jungle cat when you gunned the engine. He was watching the meter. The gas was almost four dollars a gallon, Hawk didn't seem concerned however. He had that black card of his, Desmond didn't know what it was connected to, he didn't want to know.

Altair and Ezio were in the little connivence store, looking like they were arguing over Little Debbie Cakes, and Hawk was filling up his own bike. They'd ridden in from D.C. and were in the middle of New York. The place of action was closer to Canada though, and bordered against Vermont, supposedly at least, that was where the Assassins were gathered, and since they were there the Templars had followed. They were all sort of dancing around each other, the Templars had numbers, they always had numbers, but one Assassin was worth ten Templars. That was what Hawk had told them anyway, none of them actually knew, they'd see it for themselves when they got there in a few hours.

"No, I don't care. You'll get fat," Jake said to the air, though one of his irises was fogged over. "Yes fat…" and then he spewed out some venomous Arabic. He wondered what Altair had said. It was weird, seeing them interact for real. Altair didn't usually talk to him directly, and they were never close enough to touch. But apparently they used the little bug Hawk had given them. It was sort of funny.

He sagged on his bike. He hadn't slept in four days. "Little Bird!" he started from half awake, "Your tank's full," Hawk commented.

"Right," he said and pulled the nozzle from the top of his tank and put it back on the holster. The machine dinged as he screwed the cap back on and Hawk came over and paid with his black card. "So," he asked as Hawk did his thing. "What's that to?"

"A bank account," Hawk said slowly, giving him a look.

"Who's?"

Hawk blinked at him, "Mine of course."

"You told me it was to a hacked account."

"Yeah. I hacked my own account."

"… Why?"

"Because I could and to see how good the bank's security was. While I was in there I added about six more security measures," Hawk said as the machine spit out his receipt.

"How do you have a Centurion Card?" Desmond was still confused about that one.

"I'm two hundred years old. How do I not have a Centurion card," Hawk said. "I'm not just a pretty face you know-

"That's debatable even on a good day," Jake said.

"Shut it Crow!" Hawk snapped at Jake who just grinned cheekily as he pushed his bike up to the station now that Hawk was done with it. "I have a lot of patents, and I let people use them for exorbitant amounts of money. I own stock, I own property, I own businesses, it's a full scale operation Little Bird."

"Do I even want to know about Altair and Ezio?"

"More money then God," Hawk flapped his hand at them. "Altair stopped caring about it before the American Revolution, apparently he's got like… a ton of gold bars hidden somewhere. And I literally do mean a ton."

"Wow."

"Ezio has his invested in precious stones and jewels. He makes the crown jewels of any kingdom look like toys."

"And you?"

"Turned most of it electric."

"Aren't you worried about it getting traced?"

"Sure, that's fine," Hawk shrugged. "These last few decades it's under the name of a man named Mitchell Simmons, who's a wildlife photographer."

"… That's amazing," Desmond said.

"I know right?" Hawk grinned at him as Altair and Ezio came out of the store each with at least two bottles of water, and still arguing over a box of Little Debbie Cakes.

"I can't believe you really got them!" Jake called.

"They're delicious I don't know what you're talking about," Ezio said, breaking open the box. "Catch," he called and tossed one to Desmond. His hands reached up automatically and he tore open the cellophane, eating the dumb little square of over manufactured sugar.

"That's so gross," Jake said, wrinkling his nose at him.

"I have really had worse okay?" Desmond asked.

"Here here!" Ezio cried.

"Am I the only civilized human being here who's never eaten crap in their entire life?" he huffed.

Altair turned a look at him, "We both know that isn't true."

"I never ate that," Jake said hotly and Desmond wondered what sort of dumb thing Altair had just brought up for the other half of Jake to remember. "And it was your fault anyway!" he added.

Altair chuckled, "You're the one who lost the bet," and he opened the little bag and ate his own Little Debbie. Jake just looked properly insulted. They ate the entire box without much trouble and threw it away. The water tasted good in the heat and after all that sugar. It helped wake him up too, to have sugar and fluids now properly in his system. Once they'd eaten their sweets and chugged their water they pulled on their helmets. Time to get going, they were starting to burn daylight.

The little motel they checked into at the top of the state was just that, a little motel in a tiny town so small it was barely on the map. But there was a diner half a mile away with, apparently, the best cherry pie in three counties. They'd gone there for dinner and Desmond had nearly caused a pile up.

He wasn't… used to being around normal people anymore. As it was he was wary and distrustful of most strangers and this sort of isolation with only about five other people at most around wasn't helping. When he entered new buildings he'd started to just do a spot check, his eyes going briefly into Eagle Vision, to pick out any potential threats quickly. But when he'd gone into the restaurant and done so there had just been a sea of red sitting at the tables. It had caused Ezio to bump into him and Jake to bump into Ezio and Altair and Hawk to look at him questioningly. He'd just waved it off.

The others hadn't seemed concerned in the slightest, though he saw them all (except Jake, because Jake couldn't do it) flash through Eagle Vision quickly to see what had freaked Desmond out. They'd acted like it was normal. So Desmond didn't bring it up. It had still freaked him out a little though.

They'd rented two rooms, he, Jake and Ezio in one, Altair and Hawk in the one right next to it, the connecting door open. That was when he'd brought it up to Ezio, who was zoning out watching some reality TV show. Hawk and Altair were in their room and he could hear one of them moving around restlessly (probably Altair), Jake was taking a shower.

"Ezio," he said, sitting next to him on the bed.

He blinked and turned to Desmond, pulling his focus from the show. "Yeah?" he asked.

He hesitated for a second, "At the restaurant—

"What about it?" he asked when Desmond sort of faltered, he didn't quite know what to ask.

"They were all red."

"Yep," he didn't seem surprised by this.

"I mean all of them."

"They were."

"Yeah but-

"Desmond," he said and Desmond closed his mouth, Ezio sat up straight. "All those people in that diner, they were either Assassins, or, they were Templars."

"All of them?"

"I think only the workers weren't. But yeah, they all were."

"There were little kids there Ezio."

"Assassins have children, so do Templars. They don't know at first glance who's who, and children throw off that scent. Families are how we distract our enemies from what we are, because we aren't supposed to have them."

"So those kids… they were just-

"Decoys. I doubt they know why they're here, or if those were even their parents," and Desmond felt the blood rush out of his face.

"That's disgusting," Desmond said.

"Yeah," Ezio agreed. "The Orders now a days are hard to tell apart, the line between them is thin, and they toe it all the time."

"Please tell me there is some difference," Desmond said worriedly.

"The Templars seek to control, the Assassins seek to give control. Make sense?"

"Give control to the people?"

"Yes," Ezio nodded.

"Then yes."

"Good. That doesn't make either of them better then the other though, as you saw tonight. They're both dirty, even the Assassins, who claim to serve the light, haven't been clean in a long, long time," he sighed. "Such a shame, what it's become."

"How do you fix it?" Desmond asked.

"I'm not sure," he grinned then, "that's what you're here for a guess."

"No pressure," Desmond muttered.

"There is literally nothing better then a shower after a hot day," Jake suddenly announced as he walked out of the bathroom. Ezio twisted his head around and looked at him, probably with a raised eyebrow. "What?" Jake asked and Desmond chuckled.

It was late. Really late. Desmond looked over at the clock, it was three in the morning. He still wasn't sleeping.

He sat up in bed. Jake was sleeping next to him, facing Ezio in the other bed. This wasn't working. He got up and dressed in the dark, his night vision had gotten better in the last few months, though had suddenly jumped leaps and bounds in a few days. He couldn't see fully like he could in the light, but his vision was good in the dark now. He had a feeling it was related to his arm, if not exactly directly. He pulled on his white hoodie before he left, it was still cool out, and slid his Apple into the pocket. He passed on the leather jacket.

He checked on Altair and Hawk. Altair was sitting in the chair in the room, eyes half lidded, dozing. Hawk was asleep. Good. Casting a look at Jake and Ezio on still in bed, Jake now having turned into the warm spot Desmond had left, he quietly opened the front door door and slipped outside, closing the door as quietly as he possibly could. No one stopped him, and no one was outside.

The early summer air in New York was still cool at night and Desmond breathed in deeply. It was a far cry from what he'd just left, heat and humidity and winter slowly creeping in on the southern hemisphere. He pushed his hand into his pocket and fingered the keys of his bike and looked at the five bikes lined up across three spaces like patient black birds sitting on wires. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked back at the two doors. Everyone was sleeping still.

Desmond went over to his bike and put up the kickstand and backed it out of the parking space. He walked it out to the street about a hundred feet away before climbing onto it and putting the keys into the ignition. The bike started with a soft purr and he looked at the motel, just in case. Sonuvabitch. The door to Altair and Hawk's room was opening.

Altair's head swept from the bikes up to the road and looked at him, face confused and curious. Desmond put his left hand in his pocket as his right one reached out for the throttle. His fingers curled around the Apple and he heard it's soft song, notes all jumbled and thrown together, and he knew he'd vanished from sight by Altair's sudden frown. He looked away from Altair as his hand pulled down on the throttle and he started to move, his feet moving up to the foot rests. As he shifted into second gear at the end of the street he put both hands on the handle bars, the Apple shimmered in his pocket, maintaining his illusion.