He had taken the boy to his own sleeping bag, grimacing at the inevitable blood that was sure to stain it now. Taking care of their newest charge wasn't really an impossible task, Desmond decided, and was almost made easier since the young boy was unconscious, anyway.
Almost.
Whatever those wings had been on his back, they returned with a vengeance when he had tried to do the bandaging. They had to wake the boy long enough to try and get him to either calm or take them back. If the boy had been any calmer, however, he would probably have been dead, and those wings didn't seem to want to go away, either, so Shaun had (grudgingly) done the bandaging.
"I don't like this," the Englishman said, hovering a hand underneath the wings, the rest of the group crowded around him. "These look a lot like—"
"A Piece of Eden," Lucy finished. Shaun nodded.
"Right. Problem is, they're coming from his back — his skin, mind you. I'm not seeing any artifact just out here for the taking."
"I did see a scar there," Rebecca said, though she suddenly looked like she had swallowed a large bug. "You don't honestly think someone would really... "
She never finished her sentence. She didn't have to. Desmond felt sick to his stomach at the thought, rubbing one hand up his opposite arm for lack of anything to do. It was a disturbing thought to think about. Who could be desperate enough to safeguard a Piece of Eden by implanting it directly into a host? He didn't know much about them, but just looking at Ezio and Altair told him they put a lot of stress on the body.
"I did look into him," Lucy finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence. All eyes turned on her, but her gaze had turned away. "He's definitely Japanese. He has a descendant that goes by the name of Kouwashi. Kouwashi of the Iga Clan."
"Iga Clan? A ninja?" Shaun questioned, arching a brow. Lucy ignored him.
"It looks like there was a time period when Kouwashi met Ezio. At least, that's what the reports say." A pause, a deep breath. "This boy... they called him Alex, and he's been held captive by the Templars for pretty much his whole childhood. He's eighteen now. They lost him about five years ago, and they haven't seen him since. They're assuming he's dead, but they are looking for him still."
"They want the wings," Desmond concluded, and Lucy nodded. He scowled a little, crossing his arms. "What do they even do, besides the obvious?"
"I don't know. But it's powerful enough that they're still looking even after they've marked him as dead."
With little else to do, they decided to finish setting everything up. Desmond found that it was actually a lot of fun practicing his skills out in the town when no one was around, and also a good way to keep in shape. He didn't question how Rebecca's power-sucking things worked, but he didn't really care too much.
He faltered when he heard a yell, spinning around, only to jump and dodge instinctively as an archer's sword came a little too close to his stomach. His foot missed the ledge, and it was only sheer luck that managed to get him to not land awkwardly on said foot.
He took a deep breath, calming his own racing heart, shakily getting to his feet when it dawned on him that it was only a ghost. He should be used to the Bleeding Effect by now, he knew. Yet that one part of his mind always, always freaked him out, always said that he really was about to get stabbed.
"D-Desumond?"
The American swore when he realized a pair of glowing eyes were right above him, scrambling back and staring at the Japanese boy hovering a good foot or two above him. Desmond had a hand flat on his chest, slowly managing a scowl.
"Don't do that!" he snapped, sighing in frustration at the confusion plastered all over Alex's ('A really American name,' he noted earlier) face. "Oh, god, I'm yelling at a foreigner... a foreigner who can't even understand me... "
"Omae ga hen desu yo... "
He threw his hands up in the air then stalked off. He knew Alex would follow, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to give a damn. At least, not until he remembered the very real issue of their position. He rounded on the Japanese boy, pointing at him.
"You should put those wings away," he stated, gesturing towards them. He resisted a growl of annoyance, briefly wondering if maybe Altair's short temper was bleeding into him again, when Alex only scowled at him and — once again! — retorted with something in Japanese. "Right. Okay. Do you understand Italian? You have to know something if you know how to ask what my name is. How about 'Mettete le ali di distanza' (1)?" Still no response, he practically screamed in frustration. He shot a finger out at the wings. "Wings! Ali! Tsubasa!"
It seemed the day was just getting more interesting. Desmond was fairly certain the confusion on Alex's face was identical, if not more exaggerated, on his own. He had shouted the words at random, not even knowing what language the latter had been...
"Tsubasa?" Alex repeated slowly, and that was really all the confirmation he needed.
He'd just spoken Japanese, and he'd no idea how.
"Anta wa Ezio o shitte imasu ka?"
It had sounded so foreign, so broken, but it hadn't been broken by an American accent.
"Ne! Desumond!"
He didn't know how, but the Bleeding Effect was already getting so much worse. What was next? Wasn't it enough that he was seeing ghosts everywhere?
Instinct was all that warned him as he was suddenly tackled, trying and failing to use any skill to keep his balance. Not for the first time, Alex was sitting on top of him, hands shaking as he glared and gripped the collar of his sweater.
"Oshiete!" he demanded, but for the life of him, Desmond could even hope to understand all but one thing.
Alex was lost in the Bleeding Effect.
"Are you absolutely sure?" Lucy asked once Desmond had managed to get a (struggling) teen back into the Sanctuary.
"He keeps asking for Ezio, and he recognizes Italian instead of English. I'm not the smartest guy here, but even I know they don't teach Italian to grade schoolers in Japan," he sighed, sitting Alex down in the Animus chair for the time being.
"I hate to admit it, but Desmond's got a point," Shaun sighed. All ties turned onto the Englishman, who was busy typing away at his computer. After a good few minutes, he turned around and stepped aside, indicating the monitor. "And he's right. Abstergo had their hands on him, yeah? This here, ladies and gentleman, is the Animus Project's Subject 11."
"That can't be right," Lucy interjected, looking over the files. "This isn't Subject 11, there's no—!" Her eyes widened in realization, stepping away from the monitor, a dark, guilt-ridden scowl on her face, turning and leaving Desmond and the others to stare at her back. The thick silence quickly became suffocating.
"Luce... ?" Rebecca started slowly, approaching the blond.
A few more minutes passed before Lucy let out a heavy sigh, turning to look at the others.
"There was one Subject that Vidic didn't let me interact with. Subject 11. I didn't know anything about... well, him. Whenever I asked, Vidic would tell me to just keep an eye on someone else."
"Ezio," Machiavelli said slowly, his gaze never leaving their tied-up charge. "Who is this?"
"This? This is un demone — a demon," the Assassin replied a simply. "He speaks in a tongue that no one has ever heard, can jump from heights no man has ever dared try before, and has weapons the likes of which no blacksmith has ever seen."
"This is a child... "
"You did not see what I saw."
"And what exactly did you see?" the older man questioned with a raised brow. Ezio hesitated, unable to form the right words. Dark eyes went down to the young, blue-clad boy at his feet, meeting a defiant, yellow-gold glare.
He had brought the strange child (teenager?) back to the hideout out of instinct, out of a desire and hope that Machiavelli might be able to help solve this. The boy hadn't been the slightest bit happy, naturally, and in the end Ezio had resulted in tying him up. A lot.
He was silently grateful that he'd thought to 'borrow' rope from various Borgia guards.
"Ore wa jiyūda toki ni, ore wa anta no nodo o tsukami, anta no teashi kara teashi, rokudenashi o rippingu shimasu!"
The outburst brought him back to reality. He blinked, staring at the foreigner, then looking up to see Machiavelli's stupefied expression. The corners of Ezio's mouth twitched into a smug smirk.
"I see what you mean," the older man said after a while. "However, if this is a supposed 'demone,' then what made you want to bring him here?"
At this, Ezio easily crossed the room and took a hold of the foreigner's sword, which he'd taken off so as not to leave a potential enemy armed. Bringing it back to Machiavelli, he examined the hilt of the strange thing himself before holding it out to the other Assassin. "It is not an exact match, but it is our mark."
"And what of his finger?"
"He wears gloves. I could barely keep up and tie him, let alone take off a glove."
The foreigner, seeming to be annoyed with being ignored, started yelling what he could only assume was threats in that strange language of his. It reached a point when Ezio quickly rounded on the teen, barely reigning in his temper.
"Taci! Capito? We cannot understand you! (2)" he snapped. He growled in frustration when his only response was a string of what he could only guess were curses. The Italian Assassin shot out a hand and grabbed the front of the foreigner's clothes, yanking him to his feet, ignoring the indignant yelp and Machiavelli's warning.
Yet as he opened his mouth to shout something, a very real pressure suddenly filled the room. Fear in the opposing, yellow-gold eyes were his only warning when, suddenly, the smaller boy yelled, and the room filled with a bright, golden light. Ezio released him and stumbled back out of instinct, shielding his eyes with an arm.
"Ezio! Look out!"
He looked up and dodged just in time, a swift "Merda!" escaping him as he looked at the potential threat.
Where he'd stood not seconds before was a long, blindingly-golden blade that was attached to what he only assumed as the foreign boy's back. Said boy was standing there in a defensive stance, ropes cut and splayed around him. What caught his eyes, however, were the very real, unmistakeable wings spread out, pure, bright white and golden with the most peculiar pattern all over them.
"Your assumption wasn't far off," Machiavelli hissed, and Ezio glanced at him briefly, noting his own defensive stance. "Un demone indeed. Any ideas?"
The Assassin grit his teeth and shook his head, reflexively shooting out his hidden blade as he watched the young boy. The blade that had shot out at him drew back slowly, and Ezio narrowed his eyes, trying to find an opening.
He found none.
"We need to calm him down," Machiavelli spoke carefully, warningly. "Threatening him was what caused this."
"He can't understand us and we can't understand him," Ezio shot back. "How do you intend to get him to calm down?"
"Letting him fight you might be the best choice."
"And if he kills me?"
"Then you are obviously not the one to defeat the Borgia and you will be sorely missed."
"Bastardo... "
He grit his teeth and sighed, withdrawing his Hidden Blade and focusing again on the foreigner. Ezio held his hands up to either side in a surrender, stepping closer to their captive.
"Kura na!" the boy yelled when he had crossed about half of the distance between them, and Ezio froze when those bladed wings were suddenly around him. He sucked in a breath, keeping his hands up, keeping his eyes on the boy.
"Calmati, sí? (3)" he spoke carefully, slowly moving one hand to his hood and taking it down. He felt exposed, naked even, but it had the desired effect. The bladed wings drew back slightly, more, perhaps, out of curiousity than understanding. "We do not want to hurt you."
He placed one hand flat on his chest and dropped the other by his side. "Ezio." He gestured towards Machiavelli, but the bladed wings moved towards him again, and he froze, continuing to meet the foreign boy's eyes. After a moment, when his instincts told him it was safe, he gestured again towards his fellow Assassin. "Machiavelli." He slowly, this more cautiously, gestured towards the foreign boy, inviting him, hoping he would understand. "Il tuo nome? (4)"
It was a long silence that stretched as the boy seemed to be contemplating both his actions and his words. Yet it was a small relief when the bladed wings drew back to their owner, and Ezio found himself able to relax just the slightest bit, even when the boy decided to cautiously step closer towards him until they were but a few steps apart.
"E-Etsu~io," the boy repeated slowly, gesturing towards him. The Assassin was puzzled for a moment, but nodded once he understood the foreigner was repeating his name. A flicker of something showed in those yellow-gold eyes before they focused behind him, and Ezio allowed himself to turn enough so he could look at his fellow Assassin. "M-Makia... b-beri?"
He silently thanked whatever gods existed that he had a good Poker Face. Machiavelli's expression of having his name so brutally butchered by an alien language was priceless. He took a moment to ensure he wouldn't burst into laughter, then nodded at the foreign boy. "Sí," he said, allowing the briefest of smiles to show. He pointed at the boy. "Il tuo nome?"
The young boy looked confused for a moment longer before his eyes widened in realization. He placed a hand on his chest, and Ezio knew he must be grinning behind his mask. "Kouwashi. Iga no Kouwashi."
The amount of pride he could hear in his voice led him to believe he must be introducing his birthplace in much the same manner he would have.
"So we have a name now," Machiavelli said slowly. He still look irritated, Ezio noted, but he decided it would be wiser not to comment.
"And maybe a birthplace," Ezio added.
"We will have to correct his speech as well. And find out what those... " Machiavelli gestured to the golden wings but didn't finish the sentence. "See if La Volpe or Claudia can find Leonardo."
"You do not know where he is?"
"The last we heard of him, he had gotten into the Borgia's inner circle. His last report was a few weeks ago, before the attack on Monterigionni."
Kouwashi, seeming to lack interest, wandered about the hideout. Ezio watched him briefly before deeming him no threat, focusing back on Machiavelli. "I will have them find him, but see if you can get in contact."
The older Assassin nodded and bowed slightly before walking away and out the room. Hearing the gate of the tunnel entrance open and close, he knew Machiavelli had left. Sighing, Ezio looked around, listening to the silence. In all but a few seconds, however, he realized he literally heard nothing in the Hideout, taking a deep breath to calm the growing annoyance building up once more.
He had a feeling the next few weeks would be fairly long.
A/N - So, this is part two. Meanwhile, I need to get the next two parts done by next Tuesday, as well as work and draw and do college stuff. Wheeeeeee~
(1) - "Put those wings away!"
(2) - "Be quiet! Okay?" (roughly)
(3) - "Calm down, yes?"
(4) - "Your name?"