Assassin's Creed: Apotheosis
By: Shadow Chaser
Disclaimer:
Assassin's Creed belongs to Jade Raymond, Patrice Desilets, Ubisoft Montreal, and Ubisoft. I am only borrowing them for my own amusement and that of my muses and fans. I will return them a bit battered, but otherwise unharmed (mostly).
Story:
Chapter 44 – Illusions
If Desmond closed his eyes and pretended hard enough, he could still smell the arid desert air and the thundering silence broken by the occasional howl of distant carnivores. But the howls were not really the howls of wolves and coyotes. The howls now were the sounds of distant sirens and gentle rushing noise of a city life. If he went deeper, he could remember the sounds that had punctuated the sooty night life of London and a sense of contentment filled him. Arden's memory and presence brushed over his own, adding a bit of comfort as he sat huddled in his blankets out on the lonely patio of the garage-loft.
But that sense of comfort became an instant razor-thin edge of awareness as soon as he heard the invisible footsteps of Altaїr approaching from behind. Desmond shook himself out of both the contented memories and of Arden's brief presence as he opened his eyes once more and stared into the glowing distant hues of Manhattan Island. The near-invisible tread stopped just about an arm's length away from where he sat, but he did not turn to acknowledge his ancestor, knowing that Altaїr would speak when he wanted to. He was fully aware that he was incorporating some of his ancestor's mannerisms into his own, but knew at this point the Bleeding, even if it was so-called mastered, was nothing compared to stemming the ever growing tide that was the oily Lance of Longinus.
He could feel a distant hunger gnawing ever so often and now was fully aware of each of his ancestors' revulsion at that feeling and grasped onto that revulsion. The Lance was nothing more than a tool, a means to an end, and he needed to make sure that it stayed that way. The whispers would come soon enough, he supposed, perhaps taking the form of his dead sister Amanda; to tempt him into thinking things with a slightly different bent, a way to start to draw from himself. Altaїr certainly knew what was to happen and though a part of him wanted to rail at the master assassin, he did not fault him. Altaїr was a planner and probably had foreseen a lot of this since he set his plan in motion long before he was even born. The question was probably of when it could be enacted; the right person, the right time, or even the right situation.
But if there was one thing Desmond was pretty sure of, it was of Arden's death. Judging by how the man mourned, and based off of his own memories of Darim, Altaїr had truly never expected Arden to die in such a violent fashion.
"Where is she buried?" he finally spoke up, shifting his body a little. His shoulder protested his movement by sending a sharp shooting pain through his body. The anti-inflammatory pills and painkillers were doing most of the job, but Desmond knew that it would be a long time until he regained full mobility in his shoulder; and even that, perhaps not full mobility – considering what he was going to pull tomorrow.
"Near Ellis Island," Altaїr replied softly, "she was one of the first to pass through there after it was established in 1892. Ezio thought it be fitting for her body to be sunk near there."
Desmond nodded mostly to himself, but also for the presence that was Arden within him who hummed her approval at Altaїr's actions. "I'm glad…" He shifted again as silence descended upon the two of them, neither amicable nor hostile. He could feel the master assassin assessing him, or something; could feel the intense stare as he asked his silent questions and received whatever silent answers Desmond thought he had given. It was broken a few minutes later when something was dropped into his lap and Desmond pulled his hands free of the security of his blankets to pick up the object.
He rotated his shoulder a little to loosen the stiffness in his muscles as the cold air blasted his upper body. It was contrary to what his ancestors would reveal about their weaknesses, even to allies and friends, but it was something that Desmond knew he could not afford. Secrets and hidden pains were a practicality that was ancient and dead as the machismo in holding back discomfort for the sake of appearances. The only time he would do it was in front of an opponent and Altaїr was no opponent.
"She would have been the daughter you wanted if Maria and yourself had another child after Sef," Desmond recognized the design of the bracer as the one which Altaїr had given to Arden before they had left for Princess Beatrice's costume ball and the fateful encounter with Jack the Ripper after that.
"Yes," was the quiet reply above him as he turned the bracer gently in his hands. He remembered each notch and faded silver filigree of the bracer, the hand-sewn patterns and intricate design. It was made by a master craftsman and given as a gift of a father to a daughter, of a master to an apprentice whom had made him so proud. Yet as he turned the bracer over to look at where the hidden blade hid, he instantly felt the alien, oily presence of the Lance pierce his mind. It grew stronger for a second as he brushed his fingers over where the blade nestled in its metallic sheath.
Desmond pressed his lips together, forcing the presence away as he continued his examination of the bracer, "The blade however, Stephen gave this to her on the train." The distant memories of Stephen, old, frail, withering, handing Arden the bracer that he had kept on himself as he had known of the attack and effort to get either Orelov's partial Piece or the Lance of Longinus. A sudden thought occurred to him as the puzzle in his mind started to click together. Stephen knew…Stephen saw.
"He knew," Desmond whispered as he stared at the bracer now, his fingers clenching the armored leather plates tightly, "Stephen knew what was going to happen. He saw this moment…he saw…"
He craned his neck up to look at Altaїr his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as a flash of horror crossed his mind at the realization. "Arden…knew…" Her cryptic words had the ring of truth in it. There was no way that she did not know what Stephen had saw in his brief glimpses into the Lance. Both of them knew though Arden had not known until things had started to move towards the inevitable. And Desmond realized that somehow, he had known. He had known himself, but he had tried to deny it. He had started the path since he had agreed to master the Animus instead of taking the out that Ezio offered to him in the enclave's cafeteria.
The Arabic assassin stared back at him with an unreadable gaze before nodding and looking away, "Perhaps. Perhaps not-"
"Altaїr, I'm sorry," Desmond felt like he had to apologize, had to do something in light of this revelation within himself.
The master assassin shook his head, holding up a hand to forestall anything else he was going to say, "I do not accept your apology because there is none to accept."
Desmond nearly flinched at the manner it was said, the ghostly echo of Malik of all peoples saying the same words to Altaїr who had tried to apologize for Kadar's death. He did not know why those words affected him so much, but supposed that it was because it was in such similar circumstances.
"It was my arrogance," the master assassin continued, his voice subdued as he stared out at the distant night lights, "age and arrogance; the youthful impulsiveness grown into the stubbornness of an old man who should by all rights been dead nine-hundred years ago."
Desmond could feel Arden's presence reaching out to try to tell her former master that it was not his fault, but held her back. Darim's comforting presence rose up and helped him quell Arden's worries. This was something in Altaїr that had broken, too many times, and instead of having it stubbornly repaired and dealt with on his own; the man had finally realized he had nothing else to turn to. There were no more excuses, no more Apple to blame, and it was the recognition that there was only him and him alone to blame.
"I knew I was addicted," Altaїr crossed his arms as a breeze ruffled the grey duster he wore, "yet I also thought I knew I could control it. Perhaps it made me think I was in control when I was just a puppet the whole time. Now there are no more whispers, just silence and I realize just how addicted I was." He looked down at his left hand as he extended it out, flicking the hidden blade outwards. "The arrogance of a life that could not die, the schemer that thought he grew out of his master's shadow only to grow into it and master it."
Desmond knew that Altaїr was referencing Al Mualim and the atrocities the man had committed while under the Apple's influence. He wanted to say that Altaїr was a much better man than Al Mualim, having experienced the master assassin's memories first hand, but at the same time, he could not help but know that he was right. Altaїr was no better than Al Mualim. And even compared to Bill Miles' actions, especially in light of the words he had thrown at him in the enclave when he realized that Bill had drugged him, it was the same.
"It is my heartache, my pain," Altaїr continued, "and I have no one to blame but myself. So blinded to what was in front of me, a chance of redemption only to lose it in the thralls of overconfidence of my self. Perhaps Ezio was right to stay away from the Piece, perhaps I was too greedy to realize that the Piece called to me, held me, and manipulated me for so long."
"But you did redeem yourself," Desmond could feel Arden's urging to at least let her former master know that she had found happiness. After all this time, even from beyond the grave and living a ghostly life through Desmond, he could not help but feel for the young woman's familial love for Altaїr.
Altaїr's lips twitched at his answer before he finally turned to look at him, sheathing his blade with a quick snick. "She lives in you, but I know it all too well," the master assassin looked at him, his golden eyes holding his own with that all-too ancient look. "You are the vanguard now, the spearhead. Everything that I am, that I was, everything that I could have been is now within you."
Desmond nodded once, acknowledging the metaphoric passing of the torch. "What will you do?"
"It is past time I visited Maria's grave," the master assassin had a faint smile on his face, an almost wistful melancholic look, "perhaps travel the world once more – see it through my eyes instead of the world that I have come to detest and manipulate." The smile grew a little as he tilted his head, "Do not worry, I will be by your side until this is over."
Desmond had to laugh a little, jarring his shoulder slightly. "Good, because the one in my head is getting a little antsy that you're going to go off and be a hermit or even worst kill yourself."
"It will not be easy," Altaїr dismissed his comment easily, "and there is a good chance she will know of your plans."
"I know," Desmond breathed out a quiet sigh before taking Arden's bracer and strapped it onto his right hand. It felt comforting and easily familiar as he rotated his wrist back and forth, but did not activate the blade. "I'm counting on that."
"Iltani will take the bait; she could never resist an opportunity to control those around her, control everything," the man's gaze turned a little inward and Desmond wanted to ask what had happened, but decided against it. It was Altaїr's prerogative and whatever happened between him and Iltani to result in the Lance of Longinus being stolen from him and given to Alexander Roche, was his own.
"I hope to God that it works," it was only after the words fell from Desmond's mouth that he realized the irony of them. God did not exist, only Pieces of Eden and the remnants of a civilization who sought to control everything and everyone.
He looked up and saw Altaїr activate his hidden blade again, "If there had been any doubt, if there is any doubt, there's only one thing I will still do-"
"Kill me," Desmond finished for him. He understood the implication. It was like what they had discussed in the cafeteria of the enclave. If he fell into the madness of the Lance of Longinus, if he lost himself, then the master assassin would be there to stop him. At least that was one reassurance that Desmond knew he could count on.
Lucy was exhausted, both mentally and physically. It was through the sheer effort of forcing herself to stay awake that she was able to put one foot in front of the other as she and Peter were escorted to the Animus room. Peter's reassuring chubby hand occasionally squeezed her own, unexpectedly jolting her awake at times when she zoned out on the short walk. She hated to admit it, but her paranoia got the best of her since she had punched Daniel in the face and was escorted back.
She had found herself lying awake in her cell, listening to Peter's soft snores, wondering when the prick of a needle was to stab in her, when they were going to come for her and change her; when she was going to suddenly wake up and feel that nothing was the same when suddenly she would be given the opportunity to 'escape'. That fear had kept her awake the whole time, refusing to doze off and shaking herself awake when she thought she had fallen asleep.
The hissing of the doors opening startled her out of her thoughts as she saw that they had arrived and let go of Peter's hand. Vidic was already at his station as she approached, blinking the sleepiness and scratchy feeling from her eyes. She saw him look up as she approached and thought she saw his brow crease in concern, but it could have been a lack of sleep on her part that made her imagine things.
"Where do you want the child?" one of the guards spoke up as Lucy dutifully logged into her station next to the Animus. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter stubbornly drag his feet against the guard's hold on his arm before being pulled towards the Animus. She wanted to open her mouth and say for the guard to stop hurting the young boy, but closed it. At this rate, even if she did speak up and defy Aileen's orders, she would definitely not be able to fend off the guards and surely the needle and manipulation that was sure to come. She was too tired and the breakfast she had been given in the morning did not help her energy level. She had even hesitated in eating it, wondering if there was some kind of psychotropic drug in it, but in the end, her hunger won out her refusal to eat. It had also been Peter who had noticed her hesitation before reaching over and pretending he was a child to eat her food, to reassure her that whatever she put into her mouth was also going into his body.
She had felt horrible at that act of kindness, the realization that a child of all people, had been her taste tester and that her paranoia and fear had driven her to manipulate him into doing something like that. This was Desmond's brother for crying out loud and she had promised to protect him!
"Robert, please stop hurting the child. It will do no good for the syncing if he's traumatized by your yanking of his arm out of its socket," Vidic suddenly spoke up and Lucy suppressed a sigh of relief.
"Yes sir," the guard stopped whatever he was doing before releasing Peter's arm and instead somewhat gently shoved him towards the Animus.
Lucy caught Peter turning around and sticking his tongue out childishly at the guard before marching up to the Animus and staring at it, a very adult expression on his face.
"Bad machine," he whispered, sticking fingers into his mouth and sucking on it.
Was it Lucy's imagination or did she suddenly see a spike of something within her readings that she had just brought up. She frowned and tried to capture it again, but it did not do anything. She wondered how a child who had been 'touched' by a Piece of Eden would react to a Piece of Eden.
"It is a good machine," Vidic looked down at the young boy, "something you would not know."
"Bad machine," Peter took his hand out of his mouth and pressed it against the base of the Animus, "bad…control, cause hurt. Cause pain, cause too many futures, too many pasts. Artificial, bad."
Everyone stared openly at Peter as he continued to stare hard at the Animus, his fingers white from pressing so hard against its base. Lucy wondered if Peter had seen what the Animus had done to Desmond, or if he had known what had happened. Those words were not the words of a four-year-old and most certainly not of a child who had not witnessed what the Animus had done to a person. In fact, he sounded a bit like Tabitha in such respects…except Lucy was pretty sure Peter was not a barely-kept alive rag doll.
"Hurt big brother…" Peter whispered into the dead silence, broken by the hum of the Animus, "I'm sorry…"
Peter had known, had seen Desmond in the Animus and all this time, had not said a word. Lucy wanted nothing more than to reach out to comfort the young boy, to tell him how strong he was and that his big brother was all right, but even she did not know if Desmond was all right. The last she had seen of him was him still held by the Animus in a collapsing enclave, still held in its thrall, the Animus refusing to give up what it considered rightfully its own.
"I do not pay you to stand around!" Aileen's shout startled all of them from their funks before Peter was suddenly swept up in a whirl of arms and set down upon the conductive glass table of the Animus, hard enough to elicit a cry from him.
"Peter-" Lucy reached out and froze as she saw who had boldly picked him up and set him down and saw Daniel grinning at her, daring her to make another move. Her hand that had been half-outstretched fell back to her keyboard as she saw Aileen brush past the guards, her heels tapping loudly against the floor.
"Now then," the woman glared at everyone, "are you all done gaping like fishes out of water? Good. Then get to work." She turned to Daniel and gestured roughly with a hand, "Sedate him."
"Ma'am, I must protest-"
"Do you have anything to say Dr. Vidic?"
"The readings-"
"Surely you and Ms. Stillman would be able to compensate accurately?" Aileen sneered as Daniel produced a needle out of nowhere and expertly plunged it into Peter's arm. The young boy had his face scrunched up in an effort not to cry, but could not help but give a very child-like hiccup as Daniel depressed its contents into him.
Lucy bit her lip, trying to restrain herself from rushing over and knocking the needle out of Daniel's hands. They didn't need to sedate Peter, he was only a child! But with this many guards watching and especially with Aileen in the room, she knew she could not do anything. She watched as Peter swayed a little as the needle was extracted from him, watch him blink his large baby-eyes in an effort to stay awake before he slowly succumbed to the sedative and sprawled out limply on top of the glass.
It was only then that Lucy moved from her station, ignoring the looks everyone was giving her as she gently rearranged his limbs to a more comfortable position. She was just about done when she suddenly felt someone grab her from behind. Every instinct she had wanted to lash out and fight, but she suppressed it as she turned her head to see one of the grim faced guards that was holding her.
Her arms and hands were wrenched painfully behind her as he locked legs with her, pressing himself close to her to keep her from moving and Lucy grimaced, trying to suppress every single instinct for her to undo the hold and fight her way out. She would not fight, she would not give them the opportunity to turn her-
"She looks tired, give her an adrenaline shot," Aileen tsked and Lucy's eyes widened in fear.
No, she could not have the adrenaline shot; she could not have whatever was in a needle, it was their way of turning her, the start of turning her into an agent. Her heart beat raced as she saw Daniel out of the corner of her eye approach with another syringe and needle and knew that whatever happened, she could not have whatever contents were in that thing in her. For all she knew, it could have been harmless adrenaline, to help her stay more awake, but she was sure that it was something designed for her to only think that it was just adrenaline.
"N-No," she muttered as she tried to twist out of the guard's grip and pulled to the left, trying to shy away from the needle point- The strangled cry emerged from her lips as she succeeded in wrenching her arm from the guard's grip and promptly smashed her elbow into his jaw, feeling a crack of impact before reverse locking her own foot into his own and swept his legs from under him. She rolled with the impact as he fell to the ground and rolled away from him, freeing herself before standing at a defensive half-crouch as Daniel paused in his advance.
Belatedly, she realized that her arms were held up in a defensive position and lowered them, shaking her head. "I don't need," she tried to calm her racing heart, aware of how close she had been to having something injected into her, "the adrenaline…I…"
"Oh really," Aileen stared at her, her eyes narrowed, making her look more shrewish if possible. "You did something that was contrary to what you were ordered, Ms. Stillman-"
"I…uh, I don't want resources wasted. I am fine," Lucy tried to force herself to speak normally as if nothing was wrong. "I think the adrenaline would be better suited for Peter if the sedatives make him too lethargic-"
"I know you're not stupid enough to try that. Combining the medications within him will cause heart failure," Aileen cut her off ruthlessly, "and don't think we don't know you care for the little boy."
Lucy pursed her lips together before shaking her head, "Please… don't…I don't need the adrenaline." She hated resorting to begging, but she really did not want anything within her. Refusing to meet the slightly open shock on Vidic's face, she instead stared at Aileen, hoping that maybe the woman would relent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guard pick himself up from the floor, looking disgruntled before suddenly his head snapped around in a complete one-hundred eighty degrees and he fell back to the ground dead.
Beyond him stood Daniel who was shaking his head, glaring down at the dead body. "Incompetent," the man muttered before gracing her with a wolfish smile, "see what you made me do Ms. Stillman?"
Lucy was unsuccessful in suppressing the shudder of fear as she stared from the dead guard's body to Daniel and to Aileen. The woman stared at her for a few seconds before turning around and started to walk out of the room.
"You were right," was all she said before the doors hissed closed behind her.
Lucy had a feeling that those words were not for her and saw Daniel cross his arms, a satisfied smile on his face before he gestured to her to head out of the room with his chin. "You have an appointment with our guests," Daniel said before spreading his hands wide and away from his body. "Don't worry your pretty little head off Ms. Stillman. You've proven your case for now."
"But-"
"I'm sure Dr. Vidic can handle boy's session for a little while before you are needed, right?" Daniel turned his gaze to Vidic who composed himself and nodded.
"As you wish," Lucy was puzzled as to why it seemed like an effort for him to force those words out before he waved an absent hand at her, "you best be going now Ms. Stillman. All you'd be doing is incessantly worrying about Mr. Miles' heath and I do not need you here to tell me he needs his rest."
"Y-Yes sir," Lucy stuttered a bit before walking towards the door, glancing once behind her as Daniel shadowed her, followed by the other guards. But all she got in return was just a seemingly innocent wide smile and hands spread out away from his body as if to taunt her saying that he was not holding anymore needles.
She ignored the taunt as they rode the elevator down to the prison levels and stepped out into the familiar area. "Do you wish me to say anything?"
"No, just remember your orders," Daniel said in a cheerful tone before she walked away from him and towards the door that lead to where Paul and Hannah were imprisoned.
She keyed the door open and stepped in, letting it close behind her as her eyes adjusted to the dimness.
"Is that you Lucy?" Paul's hoarse voice spoke from the near darkness until she saw his shadow move and the ratty old bed creak.
"It's me," she answered quietly as she saw Paul sit up and lean forward. Beside him, she saw Hannah's feet shift a little before he patted her gently on a leg.
"Daniel only recently came by so if you'll forgive me for being a little distracted and angry at the moment," the heat in Paul's voice was not lost on Lucy as she nodded. She could imagine what that sick crazed traitor had done to Hannah and it left her feeling disgusted.
"Vidic is currently occupied with the test subject upstairs so I thought to take the opportunity to come down here," Lucy offered up lamely.
"Test subject?"
"Peter Miles," she managed to keep her voice indifferent and saw Paul's face darken.
"Fuck," the man swore, "not Peter…"
"Who is-"
"Bill Miles' youngest, that's who the kid is," Paul ran a frustrated hand through his short hair, "unless please tell me it's not a little kid."
Lucy shook her head, "It's a child…"
"Fuck," the man swore again, "fuck, fuck, fucking fuck."
"What?"
"It means that Bill's little secret enclave's fallen and he was our best hope too-"
"You know Bill has a secret enclave?"
"I was one of the few who did. The rest, well, they're all dead, but Bill established it right after his eldest son, Desmond, went missing. Told him he was paranoid, but he said that he wasn't. We all thought he was dead or captured by the Templars when he sent a message only I would know telling me he was alive."
"He could have been alone-"
"That's not Bill," Paul laughed, a bitter sound, "and you can tell your Templar masters that Bill-fucking-Miles is sure to kick their asses any time soon. He isn't going to settle for his youngest getting kidnapped by the Templars and experimented on."
"I don't work for-"
"You may claim that, but I know better," Paul stared at her, his eyes sharp and gaze calm. Lucy involuntarily stepped back a step at the fierce look he wore. It was so like the others, so like Altaїr, Ezio, Arden, and even Bill at times – the gaze of a master assassin who brook for no argument. But even as she stepped back, she felt a sense of confidence, stolen from her by Aileen and Daniel's presence, return.
She made her decision and pursed her lips together, "I was coerced by Daniel to extract information from you."
Paul sat back, a half-smile on his face as he nodded, "And there is the truth…"
"He knows that I am an Assassin which was why he forced me to try to gain your trust and question you," Lucy confessed. It was not quite the truth, but it was close to it without breaking the orders that had been set down for her.
"And this promise of escape-"
"I will get the two of you out, I promise," Lucy shook her head, "Daniel can go fuck himself if he thinks he can stop me."
"What about Peter?"
"Vidic leaves his keycard and ID pen lying around every single time so it'll be easy not to notice it," it was the first thing that came up in her mind as she saw the slight hope fill Paul. She had to get these two out, even at the cost of her own freedom. They would be able to alert the others what was happening, would be able to at least get free. The only problem was that she had no plan, nothing that would be able to be executed without Daniel noticing the attempt. Or perhaps she could use that to her advantage…
"I need to go," she made a show of glancing behind her before Paul nodded.
"Just…be careful Lucy. These Templars…they are far more devious than you can imagine," he said and she nodded. She knew all too well how dangerous they were…
"I will," she replied and just before she stepped out she heard Paul shift on the bed.
"Lucy, thank you," the man said before the door closed behind her and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. The peace was broken seconds later as Daniel sauntered up to her, hands jammed in the pockets of the ratty jeans he wore.
"You disobeyed my orders-"
"I did not," she replied, staring at him.
"Oh really?" Daniel stared back down his nose.
"I only told them the truth, that you coerced me into getting information out of them," she shrugged as if it was the most innocent thing in the world, "I never told them I was a prisoner."
For a moment, Lucy wondered if she had crossed the line before Daniel's face broke out into a smile as he nodded in acknowledgment of her manipulation there. "Clever girl."
"I would like to return to the Animus room now," she stepped back a step as he took one forward towards her. Daniel paused, a sardonic smile on his face before he nodded in acknowledgment.
"Of course," he gestured with the grace of a gentleman towards the elevators and she walked stiffly past him. She would not put it past him to try to do something to her, but when she arrived back at the spacious room, untouched, not even a single word spoken to her, Lucy could not help but feel a sense of relief. She knew her paranoia was getting the best of her, but she clung onto the hope that perhaps she could try to do something, anything.
It was the only way she felt she could keep a grip on her sanity.
Author's Notes:
Tidbit time! I usually use music to write my chapters to (sometimes even titling chapters with songs). I feel that it gives a sense of what I want to convey in a chapter or even in the story as a whole. For this story, I usually used a mish-mash of all of the Assassin's Creed soundtracks and bits of other music from composers like Hans Zimmer, James Newton Howard, or Harry Gregson-Williams (I only use John Williams for any Star Wars or Harry Potter related stories). Then there's this little group I discovered several years ago who compose a certain genre of music called "epic" music; or as they're more known as trailer music.
I recently discovered Thomas Bergersen's "Illusions" CD. The guy is one half of the group Two Steps From Hell which is one of my favorite epic music genre composers. Their music and this recently downloaded soundtrack is pretty good for listening to if you want to write some tension or even evocative scenes. Anyways, tidbit done.
