Another chapter where I'm pleased with the content, and this one has a bit of a twist I'll reveal at the end. Anyway, enjoy!

30th of April, 2012. Scotland

The memoires were slow to load. Vidic struggled to control the rising bite of frustration that was growing in him, giving him a headache. Why couldn't people just be more…cooperative. They wouldn't have to put them in comas then. It was a waste of life, truly – and that was nothing Vidic supported.

But, if it was necessary.

Everyone else in the small room was doing their very best not to look at the sickeningly still figure in the Animus that had been wheeled in at short notice – skinny to the point where his bones jutted through his skin, his breath fluttering and weak, the subject simply known as 1035 was just a withered excuse for a human. Everybody thought the same thing: As soon as we're done, as soon as he comes out of that thing – he's going to die. But nobody moved to stop it – nobody wanted to help him. No, they were all too afraid of that man with the voice like gold, who sat in a chair, holding his chin with one hand and tapping his fingers impatiently on the table next to him as they used beautiful technology to drag struggling memories of a man long dead out of a man who was going the same way.

Vidic sighed. 'Can we hurry this up?'

The Animus attendant looked up from Ben's readings and swallowed nervously. 'It's his consciousness – it's not responding to the Animus, sir, because of its, uhm…state.'

Vidic rolled his eyes. 'Well up the power then. Honestly, we pay your people's way through university to get some degree and you come up with the useless excuse of it's not responding. Perhaps our money is better spent on something else, like biscuits or stationary?'

'No, sir. Sorry, sir. I'll increase the power, sir.'

Vidic waved his hand in dismissal. Nervously, the Animus attendant typed something into a keyboard, and something, at last, started happening on the screen that had been rolled into the room. Everybody looked over as one as the Animus's occupant stirred, grimacing with pain as the Animus assaulted his mind. And as one, they looked away guiltily – all the officials who were paying for this project and had come to see their money being well spent. Vidic looked happier as figures and shapes began to take form on the screen, and he turned to look over at one of the figures standing behind him.

'It's a shame we didn't bring popcorn, Darren.'

The man took a second to choose what response would be best: he settled on a warbled laugh, strained with a slight hint of fear.

'Yeah – sir.' He managed. The other figure standing behind him – another man lean of figure and the disposition of a Footpad, rolled his eyes when Vidic turned back to the screen – the contents of which were looking more and more promising.

From the memories of an officer, the beginnings of a war were emerging.

?/?/?

Teodor was waiting with Il Lupo. But for what? They had been told something, but it was little to go by.

Wait for the noise. He had said. You'll know it when you hear it.

And they could hear it now. It sounded from the ground below them, a noise of terrible beauty that made wonderful visions of blood and betrayal well up in Teodor like childhood memories. He felt captivated by it, drawn to it and urged on by it. Beside him, Il Lupo growled in pleasure. The sound was obviously having the same effect on him, too. Teodor's gloved hands tightened on the edge of the roof as adrenaline poured down his legs. What a glorious feeling. What a wonderful noise.

What a wonderful day for betrayal.

The blue box they'd heard so much about materialized into being to the pulse of the sound, and a door in its front opened. The boasting voice of the man with a bow around his neck rose up to greet them like a smoke signal. Robes of white and red filled by enemies shuffled out after him. One, at the back, looked up at Teodor's roof, and smiled.

Now.

Teodor leapt, Il Lupo moving alongside him. They flew down through the air, weapons readying – Il Lupo's arm moved backwards so his clumsy blade snapped into action and Teodor snatched his sword from his waist.
They were going to make it.

But they had forgotten something.

The Auditore was an old man. An old man with a wealth of experience and inhuman senses – he felt the change in the air even before Teodor had begun to move. His head snapped up, eyes a piercing gold, and then –

*~ANIMUS DESYNCHRONIZED~*
*~INSUFFICENT DATA~*
~*ERROR PROGRAMME_01000010 01000001 01000100 00100000 01010111 01001111 01001100 01000110~*

'No no NO!'

Vidic's shout of dismay made everyone start violently. The Animus attendant looked simply terrified as he dived onto the controls and flailed at them in vain – even more so when Vidic came towards him with a face of fury and seized him by his front, pushing his face into his.

'Make it work!'

'It can't sir, it can't!' the attendant howled, clawing at Vidic's grasp on his clothes. 'His mind is too broken, the Animus will kill him!'

'I'll kill you if you can't get me what I want!' Vidic hissed. The blue glow of the screen, accompanied by the white of the flashing numbers, cast a very strange glow on the look on his face. The attendant gibbered in fear, and Vidic's look became disgusted. He dropped him, and looked across the room to the two agents behind his empty seat.

'Get him out of my sight, Darren.'

'Sir,' came the reply, and the Scottish agent stepped forward. He grabbed the attendant by his shoulder. 'Come on, you.'

'No, please, don't kill me!'

'I said come on!'

The attendant was dragged howling from the room. Everyone who remained were as still as the man in the Animus. Vidic watched them go, and then sighed as if what had just happened had exhausted him. He turned back to the investors with a disappointed and apologetic expression.

'Gentlemen, please, forgive me. Our – your technology is certainly up to scratch, but unfortunately some of our people aren't.'

'It's – it's quite alright.' One of the investors, the fattest, managed. 'We've seen what the Animus can do before. I – we are well assured that our money is being used wisely.' The rest of investors nodded in agreement.

Vidic appeared to sag a little in relief.

'Thank you so much, gentleman. My people can arrange for your transport home.' He said. Taking this as their cue to leave, the investors got to their feet and shuffled out of the door. Vidic closed it behind them, so he and the second agent were the only ones remaining. He sighed, and gave the subject in the Animus a dismissive look.

'Do you think we'll get much more from him, Agent?'

'No, sir.'

'I feared as much.' Vidic sighed. 'Why aren't all subjects like you, agent? Strong enough to resist giving your mind over to the Animus?'

The agent seemed to think for a moment. 'Permission to speak freely, sir?'

Vidic waved his permission.

'That subject there, sir, he was one of the ones with dreams. They're always the ones who never complete the training programme. They had something else to live for sir, something else to occupy their mind with – while it was busy thinking about the future, the Animus hacked away into their thought, dreams and desires, until there was nothing left of them, and then filled their empty heads with the past.' The agent considered his next words. 'The successful agents are the ones with focused minds that are dedicated to the Abstergo message. Minds such as mine, sir.'

'I see.' Vidic said. There was a quiet moment. 'Have someone in to end this boy's misery.'

'I'll see to it, sir.'

Vidic nodded, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked from the room. The agent made no move to call assistance or someone properly qualified, but instead stood over the Animus himself. He regarded the subject, with his twitching face and tortured look, and made a decision.

Reaching down, he yanked the cables that fed the subject life out of his arm. His eyes snapped open in shock, and a sharp little gasp whistled between his bleeding lips. His brain began to shut down almost immediately, and his eyes wondered as the nerve endings inside his head began to die spectacularly. He saw was the agent, leaning over him with a dispassionate expression, and he was suddenly starved for human comfort.

'Fratello? Sto morendo.' He murmured in broken Italian. His fading vision saw the agent make no move to help. He could feel something wet in the corner of his eye – it welled, leaked and ran down the side of his face.

'Help.' He murmured.

'No.' Replied the agent, who lost interest. He walked away from the Animus, and, before shutting the door behind him, turned off the light. He'd have someone see to the body in hour.

The agent was right about that subject. He had dreams. Huge ones, big ones. He was going to make his family proud. He was born on one of the brightest days in South California, and was a good boy with places to go and the world to see.

But now, in the dark, alone in a country he didn't know the name of, that boy couldn't remember those dreams. All he could remember was the numbers, the structure of a network that tore out his soul and wove it into its data, and as his body shut down, he couldn't remember that one thing that was so very important.

Subject 1035 died in the dark, alone in the company of the numbers that couldn't remember his name.

And here's the twist: after writing Subject 1035's death, I changed my mind about some things. I went back and took out the name I'd originally given him and replaced it with "the subject."

It made the experience of writing this all the more harrowing.

And that binary code I used? That's no random set of numbers. *Nudges readers towards PLENTY of translators they can use online*

Anyway, review! :D