Captain: I'm alllliiiiiiiiive! I meant to update around the new year but ya know, life. I've taken up painting! It's a lot of fun, especially the wine and design classes ;) Haha. Anyway, my muse came in like a train and I spit this baby out along with half of the next chapter in like three days. So who knows? Maybe the next chapter won't be months away, eh? Haha! Anyway, Happy February to all my lovelies and enjoy the next installment of Firewall!
The girls led the way to the kitchen, chatting happily among each other. Emma was thankful that their attention had diverted away from her and onto other business, particularly as more ladies joined them on their trek, attracted by the sound of their laughter. Intrigued looks and a few questions were thrown her way, but a brief explanation that she was a guest but not to become one of them was enough to satisfy their curiosity. For now. It was a respite she wasn't about to look in the proverbial mouth.
The conversations were hardly hampered when they made it to the kitchen and collected their meals. Small portions to keep their slim physiques. It wasn't salted jerky, so Emma was satisfied. The more she listened, the more she could pick out of the talk around her. Not the subject, but the languages. She was surprised at the variety. Masyaf did not appear to spare an expense when it came to taking care of its assassin's...exotic desires.
The dark-haired beauty at her side had to be of Indian descent, if not directly from the country itself. Her English was crisp and clear and she jumped into surrounding conversations with an ease that spoke of an extensive education. High born? Or were these ladies simply educated so well for their job?
Talk went back and forth, occasionally dragging Emma into it with questions about the assassin she was suddenly the expert on. Apparently her arrival with him was the hottest gossip in the castle, eclipsed only by the rumors of why. Based on what the ladies were asking, no rumor scraped even close to the truth. He'd gotten her pregnant. No, he'd married her, no they came from Jerusalem so she must be Malik's wife sent here for safety. She was a Templar spy he'd captured. She was an Assassin spy bringing intel back to the Master. There was no limit it seemed to the number of possibilities the castle had come up with. The most popular, of course, was that she was a spy of some sort or Altair's secret lover he was finally bringing home. The truth was less absurd than the latter.
To their credit, they did not pry despite her less than revealing answers to their questions. They seemed to accept the little she offered as a full explanation. These women knew the importance of keeping secrets secret; at least, the ones that were required to remain unknown. They strove to know everything knowable about every assassin they served, and shared it liberally with each other. Gossip mainly; who had new scars, or who had what kink, who was safe to fall asleep next to, who wasn't. Some assassins apparently had favorites, others were not so choosy. Almost none were safe to wake from sleep, no matter how far away his weapons were. Always let sleeping soldiers lie.
Emma learned that the Indian beauty beside her was Ishana and she'd worked in this castle going on five years. Once brought in, they never left. Oh they were free to leave the service once they got older, but they could not leave Masyaf village for other work. Emma thought it a form of imprisonment, but Ishana assured her it was quite the opposite. Most places revolved their girls every few years in order to keep 'fresh stock' for their customers. Once pushed out of an establishment, they often had to move to a new city in order to get work, in which they would only have it for a few years. Having a permanent home was well worth the promise to live out their days in the village below. It was a protection for the assassins as much as it was for the women. They could share no secrets of the organization and they were protected from the enemy attempting to force information from them.
At least, Ishana had shared with a secretive smile, despite the violent nature of their lives, most of the assassins were rather gentle lovers. They were well cared for here, and they considered it a privilege to have been selected for service.
Emma couldn't help but shake her head in mild disbelief. It wasn't illegal here, but somehow she doubted these women had chosen this profession out of a desire to work in such a way. 'Most' were gentle here, but she'd seen too many times what damage a 'few' bad ones could do. It burned that there was nothing she could do. No way to help those here or the hundreds being trained to take their place.
And yet, they appeared genuinely grateful to be here and satisfied with their lot in life. There were no dull gazes, no whispered wishes to escape. Every woman looked happy, as if she could think of no better hand to have been dealt.
Sometimes this era felt more like an alien world than her own.
After eating their fill, the women broke away in small groups. Ishana offered an inviting tilt of her head to which Emma obediently followed. She didn't know where the other woman was heading, but it was an excuse to explore the castle. At least now she knew the way to the kitchen. With luck she might even be able to find her way on her own.
A few other girls followed as they left the kitchen. Emma noted idly that there were no men around. Perhaps they simply did not eat at the same time, but she suspected otherwise. This small eating area had to be for the women only. A comfort, in a way, to have that secured privacy and yet it would be that much harder to find male allies in this place. Or even Altair for that matter, whenever he would be here again.
Ishana led her through another twisting staircase, mentioning in passing what was down corridors and behind doors that they passed along the way. Emma knew there was no way she would remember it all, but she tried to lock down what could be important. Over there was a small library with books and scrolls anyone could borrow. Down that way led to the laundry, where a portion of the river was funneled through the castle and into a pool to clean the clothing. Some of that water went past the kitchen fires and so was always warm. Warm kept their silks soft and leather supple. Cold got the blood out. Emma couldn't help but stare at how casually that fact was tossed out. Dark torches lined the walls, only to be lit come nightfall. During the day, strategically build windows filtered in enough light to keep most of the hallways well-lit. A masterful display of architecture, if Emma had any inclination to appreciate it.
They reached a grated door which swung open on well-oiled hinges. Sunlight blinded her for a moment, but even before her vision cleared the taste of fresh air was on her lips, a warm breeze snaking through her hair. Breathing deep, she followed in a daze as the women leisurely walked into the garden. It was strange to see so much green again. Flowers of all colors and shapes were artfully arranged to leave a grass-covered walkway among them. This was the women's private garden, Ishana explained. Here Emma could be outside at will and no men would bother her; they were not allowed in this area. There was a similar looking door in the main hall that led to another garden, but for a woman to be there was to mark herself as available for work. Emma vaguely recalled seeing such a door and resolved to keep far away from it.
Here, in this garden at least, the world felt a little more normal, a little more manageable. Strange, she noted with amusement, that after living so long in the city, it was this place that felt the most comforting. In a way, it reminded her of Central Park. At least she could pretend that was what it was, if she kept her eyes closed.
For two days Emma heard nothing from the Master and she was given more leave to explore outside of her room, so long as she was with off-duty women and stayed to their designated areas. It chafed to still be restricted, but at least it was a loosening of the leash. Her old clothes had yet to be returned, but she was gifted a few more blue robes to rotate through. They were soft against her skin and cool even in the sun of the garden. Much better than the ratty brown robe she'd brought with her.
She learned that Altair and Abbas had long hated each other and that it would be best if she kept very far away from the assassin's rival. The fact that he had seen them enter together would not bode well for her if Abbas ever came across her alone. Oh he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, but it would still be better to avoid him if she could. Ishana was Altair's preference when he was there, but she confessed even so that she knew little about the man. He was not one for pillow talk. Emma was not surprised.
"Be mindful of that one." Ishana advised when Emma mentioned Jamal as they lounged in the morning sun on the grass. She hadn't seen the quiet assassin since the early morning interrogation. "There is a credible rumor that he betrayed the Brotherhood at summer's start, and that is why he has become the Master's errand boy."
Right, as if there was anyone around here she didn't have to be mindful around.
"Should have been put to the sword." Phoebe, a young Greek intoned with a sniff, twisting a line of small blossoms into her braid.
"He might have been, had it not been at the same instant of Altair's disgrace. The Master could hardly spare one and condemn the other." Emma perked up. She'd been wondering about this event that had been alluded to more than a few times since she'd gotten involved with the Assassins, and yet no one seemed keen to talk about it in depth.
Now that it wasn't her bringing it up, well… "I keep hearing about his major screw-up that got him demoted but not what he actually did."
She tried to keep her interest covered by busying herself with adding a lump of sugar to her tea. It was no coffee, but it had caffeine in it. She could have kissed the woman when she brought it out. Made being out in the sun at this hour worth it. So early in the day, the rays actually felt decent against her healing skin. Whatever cream the Mistress had procured for her the day before had worked wonders on the burns.
Ishana shrugged. "He failed an important mission. One so important the Master sent three Assassins to see it done."
Emma's brows pinched slightly. One of those had to be the one-armed Dai in Jerusalem. She vaguely recalled him stating the loss of his arm was the 'least of Altair's crimes'. "Malik was one of them, right?"
The Italian, Sofia, was nodding, lips pursed into a frown. "I miss having him around the castle. He had wonderful hands."
Her following grin was anything but the picture of innocence.
"His younger brother Kadar was on that mission as well." Ishana supplied in a somber tone.
Emma felt her gut twist, Malik had mentioned losing a brother, but had left out the details of when or how. Knowing he was there at the same time that the arm was lost and Altair disgraced...well, there were only so many possibilities.
"Never even got to visit us." Phoebe pouted, twisting a blood red blossom into the end of her braid with ease. Only Master Assassins were granted access to the ladies in the castle, which meant that Kadar had either not made the rank before the mission or hadn't had it for long.
Ishana leaned back on her hands, "Malik lost a brother and an arm, Altair lost his rank and reputation. Neither elected to share what went wrong."
"Don't forget about the army we had at our door afterward." Sofia flicked grass at Phoebe, who batted it away easily. An English army, if Emma recalled Altair's words upon reaching the village correctly.
"That Altair single-handedly turned away!" The youngest defended with a huff. Well, the assassin hadn't mentioned that aspect of what had to be a tall tale.
Ishana shook her head with an amused grin. "He released a trap that sent our store of felled trees into the invaders. Killed a good many of them and scattered the rest."
That was certainly more believable, and lucky they stored their lumber in such a manner. Lucky, or intentional to store it in such a way as to be used as a trap. What the rate of invasions were around here in this era was unclear, but it was probably fairly common given the number of armies passing by. And the raiders sweeping around the outskirts.
Brows pinching, she tried to recall the gossip she'd heard thus far. None of it had pertained to missing assassins or raiders. "What about the Mongols?"
Raised brows all around and a lack of clear concern showed on all of their faces. "What about them? They haven't bothered us in some time."
Phoebe shrugged as if it meant little to nothing, adding to Sofia's dismissal. "They wouldn't dare attack us here anyway."
Emma's brow furrowed further. "What about the village they attacked a few days ago? Altair and I came across what was left."
The memory left a sour taste in her mouth, as if the smoke and ash was clouding her throat.
Ishana pursed her lips, eyeing the other women. When they made no notion of confirming Emma's remark, she lifted a single shoulder. "We have heard of no such thing."
"Certainly no depletion in men." Amadi breathed as she joined them, dropping into the sunny grass with a relieved sigh. Her accent and dark skinned clearly placed her coming from a mid-African region, but where exactly Emma had no idea. The state she'd claimed would not exist in the 21st century.
"Perhaps Altair forgot to mention it in the excitement." Phoebe scowled at her braid, picking at it twice before quickly unraveling it to start again.
Altair may have many character flaws, but forgetfulness was not one of them. She remembered his twisted expression when they were forced to leave the dead to the birds. He would not have forgotten. The Master had simply not elected to do anything about it.
Emma really hoped he was taking the time to make a plan, but a part of her doubted it. Immediate action would have been the best, when the intel on the raiders location had been freshest. The longer he waited to act, the harder it would be to track them down.
As two days turned into three, then five, still there was no rumor of Al Mualim sending out men after the raiders. The raiders, however, hit another village closeby, leaving a scene much like the other. As a week came and passed, Emma's gratefulness for not being called on was rapidly overshadowed by frustration and anger that nothing was being done about the senseless massacres. He had the men here certainly, so why?
The friendliness of the women did not waiver, but Emma did not believe she could count any of them as true allies. Not against the Assassins or Al Mualim anyway. They were too grateful for their lives here in the castle, wanting for nothing, to even think of questioning what the men did. Not even in the private sanctuaries could she get one to say a single word against the Master. He did what he did for his own reasons, they would say. Running the men was his concern, not theirs.
Day eight she opened her door on a venture for breakfast only to find Jamal standing in the way. Whether he was waiting for her or it was merely happenstance she came out as he approached, he did not say, merely stated that the Master requested her presence again.
Somehow even 'requested' sounded more like 'commands'. Mounting the stairs with Jamal at her back and no small amount of trepidation, Emma couldn't help but hope that the golden orb would be hidden away.
It sat plainly on his desk, winking mockingly in the candlelight. A hiss whispered through her mind; faint, but no less potent in its hatred for her. Al Mualim had not even touched it.
His hand was coming closer as he watched her, saying nothing. She flinched, dreading the moment his skin would make contact. There had to be something to distract him from putting her through this again, anything.
A thought skittered across her mind and in her desperation she latched onto it without hesitation. "Why have you done nothing about the raiders?"
Her voice was at once too loud for the early morning and soft light, and too weak to fool him into believing she held any confidence in this moment. Still, his hand paused in its trek to the orb and she felt a second of relief that it had worked.
"Excuse me?" His tone was sharp and warning. There would be little to no forgiveness for questioning his leadership choices.
To hell with the consequences, so long as he didn't touch that damn orb. "An entire village was destroyed not far from here just a week ago by Mongols and I heard rumors of another attack four days after. They're practically knocking on your door and you've done nothing."
False bravado pooled in her gut, threatening to turn to jelly the instant her nerve wavered. The wooden horse, the burned child, pulling those images to the forefront, she forced herself to focus on them, to think of nothing but. Bravado burned in the forge of building anger, hardening into steel.
"My commands are not for you to question, girl." Voice as ice, his hand fisted on the table top. A fist could not grasp the golden ball.
"Altair promised that something would be done to avenge the murdered."
"Altair does not command here!" Like thunder his anger rolled across the stone, reverberating down the stairs and to those below.
"They are slaughtering entire villages! Women and children, innocents, that rely on you and your Brotherhood for protection!" Without thinking her body moved a step forward, towards him. Flickering flame from a candle cast a vibrant glow across the orb. Reining hard, she jerked back into her previous place. "They will not stop until they are stopped."
The thunder was gone when he spoke, fists relaxed into open palms laid flat on the desk. He was the picture of calm, which made his words that much more terrifying. "If you cannot control your tongue, I will have it removed."
Her jaw ached in protest at the force of which she snapped it shut, her eyes flashing to the dark corner Jamal often placed himself. The grey of his robes nearly turned him invisible against the stone, but he was there, ready and waiting to do his master's bidding. Redeeming himself for some betrayal that ordinarily might have cost him his head. He would refuse nothing.
Movement brought her gaze back to the Master. Fingers met gold. There was no time to tense or prepare before her back collided roughly with the stone rail.
'You do not belong here! You will ruin everything!' The woman's voice stabbed through her skull, seeking to cut and destroy with every hiss. A snake wrapped around her chest, an invisible vice that tightened with every gasping breath. She couldn't move, she could hardly breathe. Pain and panic became the world, nothing but the terrible agony and the terror that she was helpless against this unseen foe.
It disappeared in a flash, allowing Emma to drop to her hands and knees, gasping in desperate gulps of air.
Jamal did not even twitch from his place in the corner. The Master made an idle note in an open book.
"Now," he began as if it were a perfectly civil conversation from the start, "I have questions about your world. You would be wise to answer them to my satisfaction."
Emma could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears and the pounding of her own heart. Her mind was fractured, thoughts racing too quickly to catch, the very thought of a thought slipping away like mist in the wind. Fragments of memories flashed, gone before she could recognize them. Two different lives, two different worlds, bled together until she couldn't pick one from the other.
Working out his questions was like listening to a foreign language with only rudimentary understanding. The answers slipped from her mind and tongue like water in the desert; there for a moment and gone from memory the next.
"You have special tactics for keeping strict order among the people, yes?" Emma felt her mind snap back like an overstretched rubber band, the haze lifting though leaving her no less woozy for it.
She frowned as much at the question she could remember as those she couldn't. Candles had been replaced by sunlight streaming from high above. Her stomach twisted in longing, bringing back the memory of being intercepted on her way to breakfast. "Not really. Keep the peace by enforcing the law designed to protect people."
There had been no thought to speak, no intention of opening her lips. Pressing them firmly together, she knew that somehow, someway, this was because of that damn orb. Some voodoo or magic-as much as she despised the thought-was at work here. Wasn't even truth serum slipped into a beverage, judging by the dryness of her mouth.
As much as she wanted to believe everything had an explanation, whether the science was beyond her or not, there was no denying that that golden whatever was simply something...else.
"But your guards, your….police force, have access to weapons they do not." It was hardly a question. Emma pressed a hand to her forehead, internally swearing and wishing she knew what she told him while under the haze. An underlying eagerness in his tone made her wonder why he was prodding about this. The idea of a world with him in charge of a force with weapons no one else had access to was a rather terrifying notion.
It didn't matter what Malik said or Altair promised; this was not a man to trust.
"It's better when they can help us by helping themselves. When seconds count, we're only minutes away." It was like she had no control over whether or not she would speak, but the words at least were conforming to her will again. Her palm pressed harder against her temple, willing the pounding headache to receed enough to regain her full wits.
"And just when do seconds count hmm? What sort of crimes run rampant in your world?" He was leaning forward against his desk, the orb covered by a cloth and pushed off to one side.
Emma met his eager eyes with a forced glare, keeping her lips pressed together just a little too long, just to show him that she'd taken that back as well. "Criminals haven't changed. They do the same there as they do here."
The implication hung heavy and there was no doubt that he'd picked up on it by the clenching of his fists and the furrowing of his brow. For a moment, his hand wavered, as if he was deciding to reach for the orb again or not. He decided against it, leaning back in his seat and waving a dismissive hand. "Clearly you are still unrecovered from your journey. Jamal will escort you to your room and bring you a meal."
Flinching as the assassin finally moved from his shadowed corner, Emma couldn't help but worry she was about to be placed back in square one, with a locked door and silence for company.
There was no sympathy as Jamal struggled to hoist her to her feet and balance with the majority of her weight against him. Though her mind had returned to her control, her body remained sluggish and slow, made worse by stiffness from the position on the floor she'd been stuck in for so long.
The stairs were a mile in length and a mountain in height, the hallway a marathon to reach her prescribed door. Jamal got her to the edge of her bed before releasing her and leaving her to direct her own descent. If there was any concern for her condition, he hid it completely. Somehow, she did not think he cared in anyway. He was there to do as the Master ordered and it affected him not one bit just what those orders were.
Even Altair was not so cold.
Despite the easy camaraderie that she had struck up with Malik, she found herself wishing the hooded assassin would come barging through the door, a caustic remark about her short-sighted planning on his tongue. Malik was far away, running a bureau in a manner that seemed to fit him more than fighting, and not just because of the missing arm. Altair was a fighter, a warrior who may be loathe to pick up the shining armor but would be more than capable to ride in as a knight.
No, she shook her head with a weak laugh at such a pathetic turn of thought. The assassin was as obedient to his Master as all the rest. There was no rescue for her, no knight on a white horse to save the day and sweep her away from this nightmare. She was on her own and her defenses had been swept away.
Jamal returned shortly, hardly sparing her a glance as he placed a bowl of some kind of stew on the desk before closing the door firmly behind him. She could have sworn she heard the lock click, but lacked the energy or desire to test it. What good would it do anyway? Knowing she was once again trapped as a prisoner for sure would do nothing for her already compromised state of mind.
The master's errand boy returned once that evening to replace the emptied bowl with another of the same stuff. Neither the food nor the water did anything to ease the pounding of her head. The mere thought of attempting to use her Sense on anything made her groan aloud.
What a pitiful wreck she made.
Al Mualim did not deign to let her recover for long. The next morning she was brought before him again, and the morning after, and the one following. More questions, more pressing about the world she came from. Military strategies, weapons, laws, government structure, why some wars were won and others lost. She tried not to tell him, tried to give him nothing substantial, harmless tidbits that couldn't add up to anything. He saw through her with ease. Every attempt was met with a narrowing of his eyes, a heavy sigh as if he might actually regret what she was making him resort to, and then his hand would come down upon that cursed golden globe. The voice would hiss and scream, try to rip her apart from the inside out. Each time the invisible serpent wrapped around her chest, squeezing tighter, harder. The voice attacked whatever it could reach, clawing at her insides, shredding through muscle and bone with a ferocious ease. Every time there was never a mark on her skin as evidence of the attack. Every day she lost hours to a haze of words she could never recall.
Ishana and a few others came to help her bathe every few days, filled the time with mindless chatter that meant little and less. No word from the assassins she knew, no word of an attempt to stop the raiders from slaughtering who they wished. If the women noticed Emma looking more haggard and exhausted, they said nothing of it. The Master's business was the Master's business after all, and she was not one of them.
Emma decided she must have died on the road. The raiders had caught up and caught them. She was dead and this hell was designed specially for her treatment. She'd always figured there'd be more fire and brimstone, but magic and cold rock was evidently close enough.
Weeks since Altair had left her here passed, at least three by her best guess, but it was only a guess. She thought her hazes lasted a few hours, but she had nothing to confirm it. Had a whole day been lost to her at one point? Several? It was a chilling notion, but every bought left her too exhausted to attempt escape, with headaches too severe to bear thinking hard about much of anything but how much she missed home.
Blinking wearily at Al Mualim in the early morning light, she coughed harshly from her place on the floor. Moisture wet her lips as she hacked, struggling to breathe as he pulled his hand away from the orb. She'd lost no time, there was no haze. Only screaming and pain. Some other entity resided in that orb and today more than the others it had been determined to use its every ounce of will to destroy her. It had tried before, testing new and inventive attacks, but this time felt like it had finally figured it out, had a plan that would not fail if it was just activated long enough.
Brushing her fingers against her lips, she stared at the red that coated them. Hearing muffled, she reached to brush against her ringing ears, finding warmth there as well. This was the first blood, the first real sign of physical damage being done.
Al Mualim was tapping his fingers against the desk, a frown twisting his features.
"Still it disobeys me." He murmured, eyes on the cursed object in front of him. "I am afraid, my dear, that if I use it again on you, it will succeed in killing you."
The thought did not frighten her like it might have before. It was already plain that it had never stood a chance of sending her home, why be afraid of it ending her life? She had no life here, nothing to fight for.
Tears broke free, tracking down her cheeks as unbidden, the image of the burned child pulled to the forefront of her beaten mind. No, there was not nothing. There were always monsters in the world, always those too weak to fight them alone. She was a monster hunter, no matter who or when those monsters reigned.
This one was just too strong for her to defeat. All she had to do, all she could do, was wait until another hunter revealed themselves and could lend her aid.
Fairy Tales, after all, don't teach children that dragons exist. Working her jaw, she pulled her hand away from her head and stared defiantly at him, spitting a glob of blood onto his spotless floor. She would not stop fighting him, no matter how many battles she lost.
Because fairy tales teach children that dragons can be killed.
Present Day
"With all due respect, what the fuck are you doing here?" Matt growled, bracing his arm on the door-frame to keep the unexpected visitor from coming in. This was the last thing he'd wanted to come of his and Eliot's impromptu errand yesterday. Especially coming here, where he was certain that the dark SUV down the street wasn't owned by anyone who lived around this neighborhood.
"What do you think? I brought cookies." Catherine held up a plate covered in foil, the smell of her famous cookies wafting out. A ploy of course, one that Matt was sure he should turn away.
But then, that would probably be just as suspicious as allowing her in, and who was he to turn down fresh baked cookies? With an exaggerated sigh, he moved aside, allowing her room to step past him and into the house. She did so easily, breezing by as if she owned the place.
Some battles were worth fighting, and others were worth surrendering. This woman was almost as stubborn as his sister, definitely one worth surrendering.
"I thought I told you it was better to keep your distance from us for a while." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as she set her plate of cookies on his counter. Turning to face him, she cocked out her hip, arms crossed as well.
"Would it not be more suspicious for you to come to my house and then avoid me? Besides, you never explained why, and it's just cookies." She tossed one to him as if to emphasize her point, snatching one up for herself.
Matt shook his head, easily catching the chocolaty treat. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy, she disliked mysteries almost as much as Emma. No doubt Abstergo had already looked extensively into his sister's best friend, but now? He and Eliot had dealt with the tail following them before going to her house, but now, now she would be on Abstergo's radar again.
He couldn't help but wonder if she was perfectly aware of that.
"Are you going to tell me what you're doing here? I assume it's not just to ruin my waistline." He raised a brow at her, knowing there was definitely a motive behind this. One he probably wasn't going to like. It wasn't like she knew much, they had been sure to keep tight-lipped about assassins and centuries-old war in the hopes of not dragging her into this clusterfuck. But they'd still had to make clear the danger and why they'd wanted to know every detail about her lunch-time meeting with Emma the week before her disappearance.
"I got a really interesting job offer this morning." His spine stiffened despite the casualness of her tone.
"Oh?" Interesting for a geologist certainly had to be rare.
"Yeah, a good one. My own lab, grants for assistants, six-figure salary." It was almost like she was mentioning the weather, despite the fact that it was damn near the dream of every graduate student that was being dropped right into her lap.
"But?" He couldn't see how Abstergo would be involved here. After all, they were an entertainment company. They made video games and consoles. They'd have no use for a geologist. The Assassins had said the Templar reach was large, but surely they didn't have their hands everywhere.
"But, I didn't interview for it, hell I didn't even apply for it, so I did some digging." Matt groaned, rubbing his face with his empty hand. She continued on as if she hadn't heard him. "Everything looks legit; company is on the Fortune 500 list; supposedly one of the best in the world for oil and gas to be on with. Only, I've never heard of the position they want to hire me for."
"Are you suggesting," Matt pinched his brows together, "that a company created a position for the sole purpose of offering you a job?"
"Are you suggesting they didn't?"
It didn't sound plausible, hell it didn't sound reasonable. Abstergo was entertainment, their reach could hardly be all the way to oil. Even as he thought it he knew he was wrong. Oil was where the money was at, after all. For all he or the Assassins knew, Abstergo could have come about after taking over this Fortune 500 business. Still, why go through so much trouble for one person; to create and offer a job to the best friend when it was the family being a pain in their side?
The answer was right there, so crazy and ballsy he wouldn't have believed it had he not met with Assassins earlier this week. This fight had been going on for centuries and the Templars were utterly ruthless. For them, there was no difference between civilian and enemy.
"Fuck." If it had been any other time, he might have brushed it off, might have attributed it to hackers or some low level scammers trying to get her personal information. But the morning after his visit? A visit neither side should have been able to know about. The fuck had they done, bugged his car? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he realized that yes, they'd probably put a tracker on his damn car.
"Eloquent." She raised her brows in turn, uncrossing her arms to brace them on the counter behind her. "So what do we do about this?"
"We?" He blinked incredulously at her, "You erase the message, pretend like you never saw it. Go on vacation for a while. Have Brunos show you around his home country."
He wondered if it was too late for that already. They'd already marked her, reached out. A lab accident was easy enough to fake, a tragic story for her family but one they could move on from. A plane dropped into the Atlantic was just as tragic, and just as easily unquestioned after a time. But maybe...maybe if she left, they would lay off. If she wasn't involved, they wouldn't waste their time.
There were enough people he knew already in on it, he didn't need to inadvertently drag the whole city into this fight. Maybe, though….maybe making Abstergo think that could work in their favor. They couldn't burn the whole world after all.
Cat was pursing her lips, a denial clearly on them. Matt raised a challenging brow. She blew out a breath. "He has been wanting to introduce me to his mother."
The ex-Marine nodded once, relieved that she had the self-preservation his sister so clearly lacked sometimes.
After a bit, Cat left. Matt crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her pull out and drive away. They had his car bugged, probably his phone, and definitely his bank accounts. He'd be hard pressed to meet with anyone new without them finding out. If Abstergo was going to go through this much effort over someone he talked to for an hour once, then everyone he came in contact with could end up under surveillance.
A grin pulled at his lips. Oh, he could have fun with this.
Pulling out his phone, he brought up Facebook and sent messages to everyone he knew within a 60 mile radius. It was far past time to do some catching up with old friends.
And if the need for so many Templars to go in the field for surveillance duty practically emptied Abstergo's building just in time for David's plan to fall into place? Well, that would just be a bonus to the headache he was about to cause.
Captain: Huehuehuehue yes, Matt is up to trouble again. I mean, he *is* related to Emma after all, and those apples didn't fall far from the tree! Haha. Whatever will our poor heroine do? I know you all were probably hoping for Altair's return, but alas, the turd had two assassinations to complete before he could come back, but come back he shall in the next chapter. Woo! We're getting to parts I've been so excited to write since I started this thing haha. Join me next time, and don't forget to drop a review to let me know you're still out there!
