Part Five: Glyphs
Desmond slowly blinked. It was strange seeing bright lights, wooden beams and old brick. He had been expecting to see moon, stars, and cold, muddy roads. He took a deep breath and reached up to rub at his eyes, which were burning.
"Just a sec, Desmond," was the warm contralto of Rebecca, and Desmond didn't even grunt when he felt the Animus plug-in easily removed from his arm. He sat up slowly, since slowly seemed the only way to move, and again reached for his face to rub his eyes.
There were dried tear tracks.
Tracks from the corner of his eyes back to his hairline, from watching Ezio's family swinging from the gallows and feeling the anger, despair, denial, Vengeance! And the overpowering grief. His breath hitched at just the thought of it and his eyes felt misty, but Desmond determinedly lowered his hands and focused on the computer banks, the servers, the signs of his time, that he wasn't in the Renaissance and that he hadn't just watched his family get slaughtered.
Desmond suddenly wondered where his father was. His own family.
The fact that they were in danger of a similar fate was decidedly not helping. Because while Ezio didn't know why Giovanni, Frederico, and Petruccio were killed, Desmond was pretty damn sure why. They were Assassins. The Templars needed no other reason.
"Desmond?" Lucy stepped softly over to him, lightly putting a hand on his shoulder. In a bizarre way, it reminded him of Paola putting her hand lightly on Ezio's shoulder, the quiet comfort of one who understood despair and having a life ripped apart.
Ezio's life was currently in pieces. Paola's had been destroyed some time prior. Lucy had suffered through years of working for Abstergo. And Desmond's own life had just been put in a blender.
Too much empathy. People shouldn't be able to empathize with a life being torn apart.
"I'm fine," he said quietly. He didn't want to talk about it. "I think I need some air, though."
"That's fine," Lucy said, squeezing his shoulder. Her eyes held even more understanding and Desmond couldn't stand it. He stood up and nodded to her, before stalking out of the loft.
He tripped over his own feet heading down to the warehouse, a sign of just how affected he was, but Desmond didn't let that stop him as he just started walking the perimeter, legs and arms pumping in a steady rhythm that just let him float in his consciousness and not think about what he'd just survived.
And really, he couldn't even say he'd simply witnessed it. He'd survived it. Because by being in the Animus, he felt everything Ezio felt, saw those inner most thoughts of anger, denial, panic, terror, grief. Saw things that weren't his place to see. Just like there were times when he lived through Altair's memories it was hard to stay in synch just because the privacy didn't exist, and Desmond felt that seeing the very souls of his ancestors was stepping beyond any kind of moral or ethical bounds.
... He really needed to focus on something else.
Desmond looked around as he made another circuit around the factory-cum-warehouse and noted that some of the stacks of crates were uneven enough that he could likely use his agility to climb, which would definitely work for the exercise regime he had in mind. Weights could be something as simple as those ancient heavy books if that prick Shaun let him haul them around. His main areas of weakness were strength and endurance. Given how he held back in the Animus back when he was in Abstergo, Desmond knew how agile he could be, but he wasn't sure if he was quite there yet. He knew he had better climbing skills than Ezio for the moment, though Federico's hints about cracks that could support weight were something Desmond hadn't known.
Desmond's eyes misted again and he shook his head, stepping up his pace.
Endurance was just a matter of doing his exercises for longer and longer stretches. He remembered what he had gone through on the Farm and Desmond was pretty sure he could follow those dusty memories for most of his practice. There were plenty of crates to run around, to say nothing of the overhead lights if he was feeling ambitious. Strength would be a problem since he doubted Lucy or the others had weights that he could attach to his feet or wrists as he exercised.
He wondered if he could jury-rig something...
"Hey, Desmond, you okay?"
Desmond started slightly, having been so locked in his head, but he glanced up to the stairs and saw Rebecca leaning over the rail.
Blinking again, Desmond wondered how long he'd been down here. His body felt like he'd been going at this for at least an hour.
"Fine," he called back up to her and changed directions to come up the stairs to the landing Rebecca was on.
"You sure?" Rebecca asked.
Desmond smirked, though he didn't quite feel like it. "Right as rain."
The techie smiled. "You were setting up a good pace there." Reaching out she grabbed Desmond's wrist and took his pulse. "Whoa, you're not even that phased."
Desmond shrugged. "I used to jog a few miles every morning. On my way to and from work, I'd go with some free-runners in the neighborhood once in a while. I was always able to school them."
Rebecca's smile was bright and enthusiastic. "Wish I coulda met you back then. We'd have gotten along great."
"Oh, you like parkour?"
"Any extreme sport that pushes your limits! Preferred snowboarding myself, a little skydiving, stuff like that." She glanced him over. "You going to stretch?"
"Yeah. Just not on metal grating of a landing," he replied with a smirk that was a bit more sincere. "Men have things that are a touch more delicate to take into account."
Rebecca threw he head back in a rich laugh. "I can't wait to see you and Shaun start fencing."
"I doubt I can handle a sword at the moment," Desmond replied, heading up the stairs.
Rebecca followed. "No, not with swords. Drop an s there, with words. Sarcasm."
He chuckled. "I'll get trounced every time."
Once they were at the wood-floored hallway, Desmond set himself down under the windows and started to go through his stretches.
"We're getting some lunch ready. You wanna join?" Rebecca smiled.
"Stretching usually takes a half-hour or so. I'll be there in a bit."
"Sure thing."
Huh. Rebecca had done a better job cheering him up than walking had. Desmond was so used to being a loner, he'd forgotten that just being able to talk with someone could be a release of sorts. But then, he hadn't had anyone to talk to in ten years, not really. Sure he could talk a fair bit, it was part and parcel to being a bartender, but there was never a connection. He never offered a piece of himself, because no one could understand. Here, there were people who could.
Who'd have thought?
Desmond chuckled to himself. Being back with the Assassins was probably the best thing to happen for his lonely heart in a long, long time.
After going through his stretches, he headed to the kitchenette to hear some laughing. He came in to find Lucy wiping tears from her eyes as Shaun, next to her at the small round table, held a knowing grin. Next to Shaun, Rebecca was still giggling and gently elbowing him in the side.
Desmond smiled. His own life hadn't had many reasons to smile, not when training under his father, and not during his years away. He'd either been in what he thought was a prison or on his own with no connections. This team, however... Rebecca seemed to be team-cheerleader, or at least happy-puppy, Shaun's sarcasm was humorous, if in a more wry manner and Lucy... Well Desmond wasn't sure he needed a reason to smile when he looked at her.
Shaking his head ruefully, Desmond took the empty seat between Lucy and Rebecca.
"Ah, our baby Assassin returns," Shaun gave a superior smirk. "Had a little cry and now ready to join the adults?"
Desmond brushed aside the comment. He turned to Lucy and gave a warm smile meant only for her. "Good to see you smiling at last," he offered.
Lucy wiped tear from her eye and gave a soft smile. "It's nice to finally have a reason to smile," she said.
"Ooh," Rebecca cooed. "Is there something going on under our eyes, Shaun?"
"Yeah, sure, right," the Brit scoffed. "Our well trained, back from deep-cover friend with a baby. Do you like pedophilia?"
Desmond sighed. "I might be a new Assassin, but I'm no baby."
"Whatever you say," Shaun waved it off, "I'll believe that when you can actually, oh, I don't know, fight, since right now you're about as useful as a deflated tire."
"I'm guessing you'll provide the hot air?" Desmond replied. Rebecca and Lucy both broke out laughing.
Shaun actually sat there, slackjawed for a moment, then took a breath to start his own facetious comeback when Lucy interrupted.
"Shaun, didn't you say you had a favor for Desmond?"
The Brit sucked in a breath and scowled horribly. "I've got a little request for you," he said stiffly. "I've identified several strange markings that I've discovered right across Renaissance Italy in the Animus. Now, I don't know what they're doing there, but I want you to help me find out. Rebecca has marked their general location in the database with an icon and she's made them glow as well. Keep an eye out."
Desmond nodded, all seriousness. "Won't be a problem. Now," he drawled out, looking to all of them, "would it be okay if I had some actual lunch?"
Shaun was still sour and Rebecca was still giggling when Desmond seated himself back in the Animus. Lucy had a smile hovering on her lips, but she was refocused on her monitor.
Desmond knew his victory over Shaun was temporary, but he kept his grin inside as Rebecca gently input the Animus plug. Everything around him faded and Desmond closed his eyes.
He was in the white room, waiting for Rebecca to load wherever he was going to end up and he decided to see if anything had really... bled over yet. He took off running, knowing he wasn't really going anywhere, pushing his limits, going as fast as he could and then trying to reach beyond. It didn't last long as he faded and returned to... where was he now?
Italy, certainly, the question was where. It didn't look like the countryside Ezio was, this city looked like it had more wealth.
Well, best way to learn was to climb.
So Desmond checked his gear in his Ezio avatar, making sure nothing would trip him up, and sprinted right for the face of a building and started climbing, having a better understanding of what his handholds would be compared to his Italian ancestor at this point. Once up on the roofs, he looked around and saw the Duoma off in the distance. Right, he was in Florence.
"So, what buildings am I supposed to go to?" he asked, looking up to the sky.
"Well, that brothel's closest to your location," Shaun's disembodied voice replied. "But given your reaction last time to a romantic encounter, I wonder if you can handle it?" the Brit said snidely.
Desmond chuckled. Clearly Shaun didn't get how it worked in the Animus. Being in the memory and feeling everything was one thing. Now he was finally in control and aware that everything around him wasn't a bustling city but lifeless constructs. Nothing here would affect him.
"Rosa Colta it is," he said with a smile. He took off like a shot, racing as he did with the parkour enthusiasts, hopping over alleys, leaping onto beams, easily keeping his balance on the roofs.
"Whoa, that's awesome!" Rebecca's voice was clearly smiling.
"You never did anything like this at Abstergo," Lucy agreed.
Desmond chuckled as he ran. "Didn't want those bastards to see what I could really do. Plus it was an excuse to stall," he explained, thinking in particular of all those horribly failed attempts to reach Sibrand on his ship. All those times Desmond dove into the water to reset and waste time. He let out another exhilarating laugh as he ran across the rooftops.
Naturally, it couldn't last. He miscalculated on of the jumps and ended up in free fall. "Shiiiit!" he cried out, flailing for some sort of handhold. Somehow, he grasped the edge of a wooden platform that was randomly there for no good reason and ow it felt like his arm was pulled from its socket with the forceful stopping of his descent.
Clearly need some more practice...
Desmond took it a bit more slowly as he headed to the Rosa Colta. He stopped once he saw the red drapings adorning the building and just paused. "So there's a marking here?"
"Yes," Lucy said. "Give Rebecca a second, we'll set the time for night. It should make the glow easier to spot."
"You can do night? Back at Abstergo I was stuck at super-hot noontime."
"Never underestimate the skills of my Baby," Rebecca chirped. "You can swim too. Once Lucy explained the reset of the original Animus, I immediately got to work on fixing it!"
"... Sweet..." Desmond couldn't hold back a smile. He watched the sky slowly start to change as the colors became a more orangey red for sunset. There was no sun, not that he could see, but once it was dark, the only light seemed to come from the candles below. Yet he could still see better than his ancestor could at night. Likely Rebecca's coding made things easier to see.
He was on the west side of the Rosa Colta, looking at a flower-encrusted balcony. As the night fell, he could see the distinct glow on the south side of the highest tier of the building, so Desmond leapt across and stood in front of the symbol, an omega with a dot in the middle.
"There's one of the symbols," Shaun said in a voice of wonder."What does it mean? It must be there for a reason. Take a closer look."
Desmond stared hard at the symbol, waiting for something to happen. Minutes later, he let out a frustrated growl and started running his hands over the apparently painted symbol and nothing happened.
"Are you even trying?" Shaun grumbled.
"Not my fault this thing doesn't come with a damn instruction booklet," Desmond grumbled right back.
If he could only see what he needed to...
Desmond blinked. With a quiet breath, he wondered if it would work inside the Animus the way it did in reality. He'd seen both Altair and Ezio use it, so clearly the Animus could approximate it, but he wasn't sure if that was just because it was what the system was pulling from his old DNA or if it could actually bring forth his Eagle Vision.
Closing his eyes, Desmond reached for that part of his mind that was as sharp as an eagle, pulled it forward, prayed it would work, and opened his eyes.
"Whoa, glowing indeed," since the glow of the symbol in night was nothing compared to the luminescent glow in Eagle Vision.
"Wait, that... that's not possible," Rebecca stuttered. "This can't be... Hold on, that's computer code. Let me compile it... Oh, shit it's an encrypted file."
"Upload it to my computer. I'm master at decryption." Shaun replied with absolute confidence.
"I can't!" Rebecca growled in frustration. "It's only compatible with the Animus itself. This is why Abstergo is so stupid! No compatibility!"
"... Okay, upload it to Desmond, then," the Brit groused. "I can't believe this..."
Florence faded away and Desmond was instead looking at a tangled black mess of... rectangles. Like some sort of abstract art that was shifting and animated.
"And this is, what exactly?"
No one had a chance to reply. A voice that skipped and skittered around like a cross between a corrupted mp3 and a broken record started to speak in the darkness.
"Hello. This is... uh," the voice stuttered in an anxious tenor. "Eh, they call me Subject Sixteen. Listen, I don't have much time. There's something I have to show you..." the voice pleaded. "We have been lied to this whole time, everything we know, everything we've been brought up to believe... i-is wrong..." There was a long moment of silence. "Okay... um... I've uploaded the evidence... The file th-th-that proves it all! But I've split it into pieces and locked each with a code..." was the explanation before a paranoid lilt entered the voice. "Hehheh can't be too careful...
"Queen Isabella... no, not her... Um... Ah... Grr, what century is it?" the voice growled in frustration. "Grrrr... N-never mind I've hidden the code to the first file inside this program," he tailed off in a whisper. "Find it. Find them all, and along the way you'll begin to see The Truth."
"What the heck..." Shaun offered his own stutter."How did this get inside our Animus?"
"Oh, oh!" Lucy exclaimed."The memory core! We transferred Sixteen's memory data from Abstergo into the Animus 2.0. He must have hacked the machine when Vidic left him alone between sessions."
"Hold on, wait a second," Desmond said, thinking hard on those bloodied walls. "The signs on the walls in Abstergo... The ones written in blood... Those were clues," he reasoned. "He was telling us to look for them inside the Animus."
"Maybe..." Lucy agreed. "I... I did try to help him wherever I could... But I..."
"It's okay," Desmond replied softly. "You can't be everywhere and know everything. Besides... you were a prisoner yourself. There was a limit on what you could do."
"...Thanks, Desmond."
IN THE BEGINNING
... appeared in the black miasma, followed shortly by:
FIVE OF THESE MYSTIC SCENES SHARE A CORE SIMILARITY.
PICK THEM OUT AND YOU'LL BEGIN TO SEE.
Eight Renaissance style pictures appeared. The only one Desmond even recognized was the Birth of Venus, but beyond that, he didn't get what he was supposed to do. It appeared that he needed to select five of them, but which five?
Shaun, however, understood the art far better than Desmond.
"My God, those paintings! That's pure Renaissance art and at its best! Why, look at..."
The rest Desmond stoutly ignored. Knowing the history of each individual piece was unlikely to be what he needed for solving this puzzle. All around him he could hear everyone talking and discussing. Rebecca was still trying to hack the code, Shaun was mumbling about history, talking about books he had on the shelves to get for reference.
It was Lucy, however, that made everything click for Desmond.
"Hey, what about those two sentences?"
"Lucy! You're a genius!" Desmond grinned, selecting the five images that had an apple in them. With talk of cores and picking, it should have been obvious!
Then a distinct chill settled through Desmond as an apple was shown. Not a proper apple, an Apple. The Apple. A Piece of Eden.
PASSCODE FOUND
A video file was unlocked, showing the blurry backs of a man and women, likely naked given the poor quality, jumping with trees ahead of them.
"That's it? Seriously... that's all we're going to get? Ridiculous..." Shaun grumbled.
"It's only a piece of the file," Rebecca replied, "No need to be such a whiny baby."
"Wha, me? Me, a whiny baby? Don't you mean our baby Assassin Desmond?"
"Both of you, knock it off," Lucy interrupted firmly. "Now Shaun, where should Desmond go for the next glyph?"
"The Ospedale Degli Innocenti," was the sullen response.
"And in proper English that's supposed to be... what?"
Shaun let out a long sigh. "The Hospital of the Innocent."
"And I know where that is... how? The brothel I've, or Ezio, has been to. Not this hospital."
"An orphanage," the historian added. "And didn't you know how to wander around in the Animus before?"
"A map," Desmond replied, "that was absolutely useless."
Lucy let out a sharp laugh before quieting it to a chuckle.
"Oh yeah, the original Animus couldn't form a proper map if its assembler counted on it!" Rebecca said. "One of the first things I fixed for my Baby here. I promise, you'll find these maps much more useful."
"Fine," Desmond sighed, once again feeling the idiot for saying, "Map: Florence."
Then he let out a whistle of appreciation. The map was indeed much better than the mess that The Kingdom had been when he'd been reliving Altair. There were clearly delineated streets, even visual cues on where archways would be.
"Much better indeed."
"Thank you, thank you."
Desmond made his way northeast, dashing across rooftops, though at a slower pace than previous as he kept checking his position. The tiled roofs that had tripped up Ezio were no problem for Desmond, who had worked on pitched roofs as a child in his training, plus the nighttime kept him cautious with his footing.
It felt like no time before he arrived at the sprawling hospital with a huge square surrounded by arched porticos. He stayed on the roof, looking around for the telltale glow he'd seen before, the glow that had mathematical equations and random symbols spilling out. But walking around, he didn't quite see it. Not until he reached the western roof and found a raised section of what was likely a small room or crawlspace that sat on top of the tiles. On it was an Egyptian eye, like from a sarcophagus and Desmond couldn't help but wonder where the hell Subject Sixteen got these symbols.
Not wishing to waste time, Desmond reached for his Eagle Vision, unlocking the encryption and looking at the black miasma.
"The past: a vast web of connections and interconnections, all ruled by chance. Or is it?" Sixteen offered in the same static-filled tones. SIXTY-FOUR SQUARES appeared as the title to the puzzle.
A circular image that seemed scrambled appeared with a fill-in-the-blank next to it that was missing so many letters Desmond didn't even dare guess what it could be.
"Well this seems easier," Lucy said.
"Easier works for me," Desmond replied, spinning the scrambled sections to line them up with the stationary center.
An old-style picture, pre-Renaissance, appeared of what looked like a queen and this was confirmed as the blanks filled in. Queen Elizabeth I of England 1559. At first Desmond couldn't make heads or tails of it, until a box zoomed in to the Queen's right hand, showing a spherical orb of some kind, which was identified before him as ID: PIECE OF EDEN 2 - APPLE.
"That's one of the Pieces of Eden that Abstergo's been keeping an eye on," Lucy whispered. "They eventually acquired it."
A new image appeared for Desmond to unscramble. It was easy to spin the pieces into place and reveal Emperor Napoleon I, France 1812. The box zoomed in to Napoleon's famous portrait, holding his hand inside his shirt and revealed that it was ID: PIECE OF EDEN 1 - APPLE.
"That's another that Abstergo tracked and acquired," Lucy said.
"Gee, we noticing a pattern?"
A third image appeared and Desmond unscrambled it.
George Washington United States 1781. And, like Napoleon, he had a hand in his vest. ID: PIECE OF EDEN 3 - APPLE.
"And that would be a pattern confirmed."
The video file showed a zoom in on some sort of circular door.
Desmond looked to the sky. "These make no sense."
"Well of course they wouldn't, not to you anyway," Shaun said arrogantly. "You have no understanding of the history of it, the culture. The-"
"Shaun!"
"So where to?" Desmond asked, trying to divert the impending argument.
"The Santa Croce Basilica," Rebecca said.
"Map: Florence."
Desmond started heading due south, once more gliding across rooftops and keeping track of where he was on his map. Once he landed on the Franciscan Basilica, he was again wandering around to try and find the handy glow that Rebecca provided. Unfortunately, it was hard to concentrate. Between the fact that it was nighttime and the fact that this was where Ezio had come to kill Uberto Alberti for ripping his family in half, Desmond was feeling rather torn. Part of him was automatically starting to synch, feeling the anger and rage and vengeance bubbling up from what Ezio had gone through. But he listened instead to his desire to find this damn glyph and figure out what the next puzzle and what he needed to do.
Down below in the plaza, like a ghost, a faintly glowing, see-through apparition of Ezio stalked around, working his way to where he'd ultimately killed the Gonfaloniere.
Desmond avoided looking down to the piazza, and kept walking around the roof.
He found the glyph on the north side of the church, easy to spy. Desmond wasn't sure if it was the symbol for pi or a Japanese tori, but it didn't matter as he accessed his Eagle Vision.
The scrambled black miasma surrounded him and Sixteen said, "Power doesn't die. It's passed on."
DESCENDANTS appeared and was replaced with a black and white photo of four men. Three were sitting on the couch, one looking right to the camera, and the fourth was using his pointer on a map of the Pacific Ocean. Above it:
HE CARRIED IT WITH HIM. FIND HIS INHERITANCE.
And below it:
FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT STRATEGIC MEETING,1944
There was an option for infrared, which Desmond immediately selected, and started moving the magnifying cursor slowly and methodically around the picture. Finally, on the coffee table in front of the seated men, he felt another chill go down his spine as he saw a Piece of Eden. He selected it and watched the ID appear under it.
ID: PIECE OF EDEN 3
"Wait, I thought Washington had this Apple," Desmond said, confused.
"A baby Assassin, alright," Shaun growled. "You think this Piece of Eden was buried with one of your founding fathers? Of course it was passed on."
Well, now Desmond felt like an idiot.
"So I'm guessing all these puzzles will be on whom those Apples ended up with?" Rebecca asked, smoothing over the bruising that both men would throw at each other in verbal warfare.
Another photo appeared of a man in early 1900s bathing attire was hung upside down a clear box of some time with three men in odd uniforms keeping an eye on him from below. Underneath the photo was the caption: HOUDINI BEGINNING THE CHINESE WATER TORTURE CELL ESCAPE, 1912
Desmond switched to infrared and started his methodical search. He found the Apple floating between the hanging man and the box. It was quickly labeled as ID: PIECE OF EDEN 1, which was originally Napoleon's.
"Now wait," Desmond said, "Houdini was in New York. How'd this Apple get here from France?"
"Idiot," Shaun sighed. "Harry Houdini, greatest illusionist of all time, was born in Hungary."
"And that explains everything?"
"He changed his name from his birth name of Ehri, or 'Harry', Weiss, to Harry Houdini, in honor of Jean Houdin, French magician."
"So a French magician gave it to Houdini?"
"Oh, that would have been interesting, given that Houdin died three years before Houdini was even born."
"Well that's about as clear as mud."
Rebecca laughed. "That's because Shaun doesn't know."
"Oh, do shut up."
A new black and white photo appeared, showing an Indian man with incredibly short hair and wire glasses, surrounded by other Indians in traditional clothing, walking forward in what appeared to be a treed dirt road. It was captioned: GHANDI DURING THE SALT MARCH, 1930
Desmond switched to infrared and found the Apple under Ghandi's robes, by his hand. ID: PIECE OF EDEN 2
"Well that at least makes sense," Shaun said. "British empire and expansion and all that. India was our colony at one point and for quite a while."
The passcode was entered and a video glimpse of what looked like scaffolding flashed across the screen.
Desmond shook his head. "This won't make sense till we get the whole thing, will it?"
"Well," Rebecca said, "that's all we can access in Florence for now."
Desmond shrugged. "Good. Now for some exercise."
For the next two hours he ran around the roofs of Florence, falling into the mental rhythm of parkour and practicing his skills. He hadn't free-run in over a year, and he spent his time relearning his limits, remembering how to gauge distances, exercising his muscles in ways he hadn't done for a while. He didn't want to push his limits - not yet any rate. Walking before running, or in this case hopping before leaping and balancing before dashing. More than one landing ended up on the streets instead of the a chimney or roof that he wanted, and he groaned when his brain told him he should have broken an arm or leg and made himself roll out the muscles to prove otherwise. This ended with a vigorous stretching regiment.
"Impressive," Lucy said after his regiment.
"I need to get back in shape somehow," Desmond said, "I'm ready to come out now."
His muscles felt mildly like he'd been exercising, but not enough that he didn't march right out of the loft and into the warehouse to start his usual run. Rebecca joined him after several laps, and the two pulled out a good two miles before stopping and stretching.
"I thought you'd go longer," she said in her rich contralto.
"I could," Desmond said, "But I don't know how the Animus affects my body for this. I felt the exercise when I came out even though I was just sitting in the machine. I don't want to work myself to exhaustion, that'll just delay everything." He stood up and rolled his hips a little, shaking out his limbs. "Once I know what I can do, then I can push into what I can't, and turn it into can."
"Smart," she said, getting up as well and adjusting her headphones. "Come on, let's see if there's anything left to eat. Shaun's probably stolen all the tea, but there might be some leftovers and coffee."
Desmond rolled his eyes, "Coffee at night. Never understood that."
"To each their own."
The kitchen was empty when they entered it, but someone had left out a loaf of Italian bread. Desmond took it and a glass of water - mentally noting the irony of "bread and water" and nibbled on it while Rebecca raided the fridge before coming out with some kind of take-out pasta.
"I guess there's an Olive Garden near here?" he queried as she dished out a portion for herself.
The dark haired rocker turned with wide eyes. "You don't know?" she asked.
"Know what?"
"We don't need an 'Italian' restaurant. Every restaurant here is Italian!"
Desmond blinked. "... We're in Italy?" he demanded.
"Yes!"
"But I was..." Desmond's mind skidded to a halt, trying to remember the blurry memories of his kidnapping. He had been unconscious, and who knew how long that had been - apparently long enough to fly to Europe. Vidic and Lucy, even the security guards, and all spoken English - American, even - and he'd just assumed he was still in the States. To know that he was, in fact, so far from home... He shook his head, trying to assimilate the new information. "Italy. Right. I guess I should start talking like Mario or Luigi."
Rebecca laughed. "Best video game icons ever. And that's including Master Chief, Kratos, and Commander Shepard."
"Oh, a gamer, are we?"
"Of course!" Rebecca said. "I owned every gaming system out there, I even attended an E3 once, before..." she paused, her face falling slightly. "Before all this happened," she finished, gesturing vaguely. Rebecca immediately perked, however, asking, "Were you much of a gamer?"
"Naw," he said. "Didn't even know about them till I ran away from the Farm. Had a Wii at my apartment, but I never really had time to play it."
"Well, now you're practically living in one. I gotta say, working with the Animus makes hacking the PS3 look like middle school summer boredom."
The pair snorted before departing, Desmond skiffing a plate of Rebecca's leftovers and munching quickly and cleanly before going to his bed in the loft. His first priority was to make a "go-bag," a bag with some extra clothes, toiletries, and anything else he'd need if he had to run in a hurry. He wondered briefly about his go-bag in his apartment - virtually his whole life had been packed in that, but shook his head. There really was no going back, it seemed. He eventually found a lame one-strap courier bag, and filled it with precious little indeed. Desmond realized he had nothing but the clothes on his back - literally - and had to filch for everything that went inside. Wondering just what that meant in the story of his life, he went to bed.
The next morning dawned cloudy, but he resolutely got up and got a cup of coffee, feeling much more awake with its rich, dark scent wafting into his nose. He sighed in contentment before Lucy wandered in, taking a cup for herself - black, no additives - and gulping it in three massive swallows before pouring a second cup.
"Late night?" he asked.
The blond nodded. "Yeah. Catching up on all the team deployments. We lost so many..."
Desmond reached out to touch her shoulder, but she turned, oblivious, and marched into the loft. Desmond followed, sad that he couldn't comfort her the way she needed. Rebecca was already at the Animus, tinkering away at something, and Shaun breezed in soon after, cup of tea in his hand before taking a seat at his station, opening up two or three dusty tomes. Lucy slapped a few folders onto her own desk, labeled "Project Legacy" and opened a few as she waited for her computer to boot up, ruminating over her coffee before taking a more sedate sip. Shifting a little bit, Desmond realized there was literally nothing for him to do but get in the Animus, and so he rolled his shoulders and took his seat, Rebecca being much more gentle this time, and he thought about Ezio, his long trek to Monte-something or other with nothing but the clothes on his back. Lucy had picked this ancestor for a reason; he had to assume everything worked out for him.
He waited to synch...
They walked for hours. Claudia had become so tired that she stopped talking outright, no longer asking painful and difficult to answer questions, and just plodding along next to Maria, a hand on her shoulder to help guide her. Ezio, to be honest, was faring little better. It was a long journey to Tuscany, worse that it was done at night and even worse with everything that had happened weighing on their tired minds.
He could still see his family swinging in the gallows, a twisted dream that refused to leave his vision.
He was exhausted. They all were.
But, at least, out of Firenze, they were safe. Nothing more could happen.
"Buon giorno Ezio!"
Ezio groaned, to tired to pretend the sudden arrival of Vieri de' Pazzi didn't bother him. Instead he looked up, gazing further down the road and seeing his sometime rival standing with a flanking of Pazzi mercenaries. Even in the waning moonlight the young man looked smug and domineering, and Ezio had neither time nor inclination to deal with the petty upstart.
"Ezio!" Claudia hissed, and the former noble turned to see more mercenaries circling round from behind. That made this encounter much more serious, and Ezio quickly motioned for his sister to move closer to him, the young girl helping their mother do the same. Both women were shivering in the cold damp air, and Ezio wanted to make this quick.
"What do you want, Vieri?" he demanded, exhausted and impatient.
"So many things!" Vieri drawled as if he had all the time in the world. "A larger palazzo, two new steeds, a prettier bride..." He drew his sword slowly, menacingly. "Oh and yes... your life!"
Two mercenaries marched forward with a gesture from Vieri, swords drawn. Ezio moved to draw his own sword and realized in a flare of panic that he had none. The sword his father had left him had been knocked out of his hands at the gallows. He was unarmed.
... He was unarmed!
Cursing, Ezio ducked under the first swing from the mercenary and sidestepped the second, wondering just what he was going to do to get out of this. Had the young Pazzi truly hated him that much? Was Vieri truly so petty that Giovanni arresting his father made him so violent? The fight they had started on the bridge, the Ponte Vecchio, that was just harmless fun - never meant to be anything serious, when did Vieri become so bloodthirsty?
"What is the point of all this?" he demanded. "My family is dead, Vieri, dead!" and his eyes watered to admit it. "What more could you possibly want?"
"Oh," Vieri said, watching the decidedly one-sided fight. The mercenaries were obviously toying with Ezio, as he ducked and evaded the obvious sword strokes. Claudia watched on in horror, protectively standing in front of Maria. "Watching you Auditore swing from the gallows was certainly enjoyable - seeing your father brained was particularly satisfying." Claudia gasped and Ezio growled. "But I'd hardly call that true entertainment. After all, you weren't up there with them."
"What have I ever done to you?" Ezio demanded, getting extremely lucky and grabbing the wrist of one of the mercenaries, twisting and then kicking the man in the gut and driving all air from the man's lungs. His victory was short lived, however, as the second mercenary stuck him from behind with the back of his blade. Ezio's shoulder erupted in pain, and he stumbled forward, clutching the new wound with his left hand and landing on one knee. He looked up glared at the Pazzi, only to see the cold gaze of hatred in return.
Vieri stared at him for a long time, before giving an oily smile.
"My condolences for the loss of your father and brothers!" he said in a patronizingly light tone. "What will happen now that there's no one left to help you? You've no one to cry to when things get difficult." The jibe struck too close to him, and Ezio surged to his feet, only to have the mercenary he had waylaid shove him back to the ground, Ezio landing roughly on his behind. Vieri smirked. "I have such wonderful things in store for your mother and sister!"
"Ezio!"
Rage erupted in the young Florentine. "You will not touch them!" he bellowed, rising to his feet and barreling towards his family, ramming his good shoulder into one surprised mercenary before diving onto one that had been advancing on the two women. He landed a jaw-breaking punch to the man once, twice, before rising and getting in the way of a third. He was just one unarmed man, however, and someone managed to grab Claudia from behind, the fifteen-year-old shrieking and screaming, kicking her legs furiously in the air, somehow managing to elbow the man in the face, making him let go. Claudia landed in a huff and Ezio used the opportunity to land a vicious kick in the man's midsection - all that he could spare before shoving at a different man that was moving to haul the unresponsive Maria away. Claudia gave a great cry of rage and, in a fit of insanity, charged at one of the mercenaries. The man grabbed her wrists, but she bit at the grip to free her hands and used them to claw at his face, kicking him in the knee and then between his legs.
"I grow tired of this game," Vieri's voice filtered in from the brawl. "Finish him! And do not spare the women."
The man had no honor! Ezio and Claudia fell to either side of Maria, who was helpless to defend herself. Both were panting, and all of them were unarmed, nearly defenseless. If Ezio could just wrest a sword from one of them, they would stand a much better chance...!
They were completely surrounded, six mercenaries with drawn swords, several leering at Claudia and Maria, all of them reeking of bloodlust. They... they...
They were going to die.
Ezio had failed to protect his family.
Again.
Again.
He had no sooner finished the thought, however, when all six mercenaries fell to the ground, like puppets with their strings cut.
"What sorcery is this?!" Vieri demanded, shocked at the sudden turn of events.
"Ha, ha, not sorcery, boy. Skill!" a voice said from somewhere. Ezio and Claudia shared a look, not knowing what was happening.
"Show yourself!"
"As you wish!" And from beyond the roadside came a slew of new mercenaries, rougher around the edges than any of Vieri's men, scruffy and meaner looking. Leading them was a thick, stocky man, and Ezio saw that one eye was blind in the lightening sky. Said man had two swords in his fist, one of which he tossed to the young Florentine. "Here," he said in a gruff voice, "use this."
Ezio caught the blade in midair, quickly taking a defensive stance in front of his mother and sister, content to defend them from anything, even this stranger if needs be. At this point, Ezio doubted even the gift from God that had dropped down on him.
Vieri, meanwhile, was furious that his easy murder was denied him. "Kill them!" he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. "Kill them all!"
"Do your own dirty work," the one-eyed man barked, marching at Vieri with the cloud of impending doom surrounding him. The young Pazzi's eyes widened, the color draining in his face visible even in the poor light, and the boy stumbled back before retreating to the horses, leaving his mercenaries to fight in his name. The one-eyed man barked out a laugh before turning, and soon everyone was engaged in combat.
Ezio's shoulder throbbed from the blow he had received earlier, making his sword work paltry at best. Lifting his arm was difficult, and the mercenary that had singled him out took merciless advantage of that, pressing Ezio back and back and back, but the young Florentine refused to let the man get between him and his family. One strike made Ezio's wrist twist to take the blade in both hands, and in doing so he heard a distinct sound, and realized the hidden blade of his father's bracer had extended. Unable to try and remember how to retract it, he moved to deflect another strike and then moved to punch the man in the gut. Instead, the blade sank deep into the other man's midsection, a gurgled cry of surprise filling Ezio's ears, before the Pazzi mercenary fell to the ground. The former noble startled, not expected it, and backed up in surprise.
Claudia clung to his back, her free arm wrapped around Maria. They watched the rest of the fight, what was left of it, as the one-eyed man's forces quickly butchered the Pazzi supporters. A few gruff orders had a pair of men disappeared to retrieve horses, other fetching shovels, and the one-eyed man approached the weary family.
Ezio, appraised the forces with a half trained eye. They were good fighters, to be sure, but better still they were disciplined. They sheathed their swords and axes and maces and all sense of bloodlust left the air. This man, whoever he was, had excellent control of his men, and had enough honor to help travelers on the road, a veritable Good Samaritan. Ezio accepted the providence and straightened, formally offering his sword back to the thickly built man, head bowed. "You have my thanks," he said formally with aristocratic vowels.
The man grinned in the dying night, false dawn lightening the sky. He waved the weapon off. "Keep the sword, Ezio."
The Florentine blinked, not expecting such familiarity. He gazed at the man again, the sturdy build, broad shoulders, one eye. A dim memory tried to flicker in his mind, but he couldn't grasp it. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.
"Don't you recognize me?" the man said. "It's me, Mario!"
"... Uncle Mario?"
The recognition did not have time to fully register before Mario's great thick arms flew around Ezio, engulfing him in a bone-crushing hug so powerful Ezio felt himself be lifted up into the air.
"It's been too long nipote! Far too long!" Ezio gasped for breath, almost coughing before landing unexpectedly on his feet, leaving him floundering to balance as Mario moved on and grabbed Claudia's waist, lifting her up even higher into the air and spinning her around despite her startled squawk. "And Claudia! You've grown so beautiful!" He let her down with a bounce, before turning to the third member of the party. "And Maria," he said softly, taking her into a gentle embrace. She clutched her feather box tightly, saying nothing. He released an arm to loop it around his niece and he looked at his nephew with a solemn face.
"I heard what happened in Firenze..." he said in somber tones. "I gathered my men and we were riding to get you, I didn't realize you had already left the city, or I would have sent a letter. Still. Come. Let's get you all away from here."
The two mercenaries sent to retrieve horses came with the pack, and everyone mounted. A cart also appeared, and it was obvious whom it was for. Ezio helped his mother and sister onto it before hopping on himself. He moved to sit in front, next to the driver, but Mario, mounted, gestured him not to. "You're exhausted, nipote," he said gently, "And with good reason. Rest now, we're still hours from home. You can tell me what's happened later."
The permission was all Ezio needed, his voice was gruffer but Uncle Mario's tone was exactly the same as Giovanni's, and for the briefest of moments it was like his father was there, and Ezio could not deny the request. He sat back, Maria carefully nestled between his sister and him, and he closed his eyes, happy for the reprieve.
Author's Notes: In the midst of all the whining and wailing you'll hear from us over the course of these author's notes, the thing that will undoubtedly be the loudest, the longest, and the most annoying will be what you just read.
Desmond.
AC1 has the between-memory conversations. Brotherhood has conversations and emails, and even Revelations have little bits to pull from for Desmond. But in AC2 all you get it the sequence in the middle of the game. The amount of content-generation for this was mind-numbing - and not only was it content generation, it was content generation to try and make Desmond interesting. He isn't. At least not to us, and whenever one of us would get his sequences there was much groaning and foot dragging. We hope he came out okay, and this leads us to our second source of moaning:
Glyphs. Writing them is hard. In theory, this will be the only time we write it out fully, it would just get tedious otherwise, but the information in them is too interesting to ignore outright, so we'll see how they turn out. As the glyphs progress and the information dump they contain start getting bigger and bigger, the focus will be less on the puzzles (we hope) and more on the web of thoughts Sixteen is trying to show everyone. We can only hope they come out okay.
And a final note. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to review, we always feel a warm little glow whenever we see a notice in our inbox. Our gratitude is so great that we feel hesitant to even mention this, but there are one or two of you out there who seem to write the reviews in a rush. Words run together, there's not punctuation to discern thoughts or points, and there are many obvious spelling errors. If it's not too much trouble to those one or two reviewers, please read your review out lout to catch the most obvious glitches in writing. It will make our replies to you much more thoughtful!
Next chapter: the 16 month timeskip-training-thing. Yeah, that's going to be fun to write... (wails at the third annoyance of the fic)