A/N: Le chapterly advisory…

WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS STRONG HUMOROUS CONTENT THAT SHOULD BE READ IN A DISCREET LOCATION. IF YOU ARE IN THE SAME ROOM AS OTHER PEOPLE, AWAKE OR SLEEPING, YOU NEED TO MOVE AWAY FROM THE AREA IF AT ALL POSSIBLE. YOU MAY EXPERIENCE THE FOLLOWING BEFORE, DURING, AND AFTER READING THE CHAPTER: THE GIGGLES, SIDESPLITTING LAUGHTER, NAUSEA, VOMITING, PAINFUL GAS, EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA, HYPERVENTILATION, HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE, FEVER, AND/OR ABDOMINAL CRAMPS.

IF YOU ARE PREGNANT, YOU MAY MISCARRY.

PLEASE ASK YOUR DOCTOR IF YOUR HEART IS HEALTHY ENOUGH FOR SEX, I MEAN, READING THIS STORY.

And viola! There's your warning. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Honestly, I don't think that this one's all that fantastic. I think it's mainly—and don't hate me for saying this—a filler. I kinda just ramble in this chapter, but my rambling kinda makes a little bit of sense! Sorta. I apologize if it doesn't meet your expectations of literary excellence. In any case, it's a chapter. It's posted. Deal with it. :P

Oh, one last thing… I have started school this past week, and my schedule for writing and posting will be cut short. I apologize ahead of time for this inconvenience! (The Templars run my school, and they try to keep us Assassins in their clutches!)

ONWARD!


Clouds seemed to fog Desmond's mind, shrouding any single bit of clarity that may have been in his field of vision both physically and mentally. Something deep inside his brain whispered to him that he had returned to the Animus Mainframe with his three ancestors, yet something seemed amiss. Something somewhere didn't quite fit the puzzle correctly, and that feeling seemed to enlarge by the second.

The modern-day Assassin attempted to clear his mind and only focus on that odd feeling that something wasn't adding up, but it was futile. His mind wandered off into the distance, leaving all thoughts of focused clarity in the dust.

His brain attempted to assess the damage that had been tolled towards his body, although he couldn't exactly remember just what had happened to him. It seemed as if everything was a distant dream that had occurred in the beginning stages of REM slumber, and his consciousness was being overtaken by drowsiness.

Whispers echoed from the distance, just barely reaching the Assassin's ears. He couldn't distinguish any of the words, but he knew it was the damned voice that had plucked him from his already abnormal life. He could hear the tone of the voice, and it sounded as if the owner was mocking him. No, not just him. All of them. All of the Assassins.

He strained to listen, but his attempts resulted in no avail. He just couldn't focus, and that just simply bothered him.

Suddenly, Desmond became aware of a weight that seemed to restrain him. It put a constant pressure on his torso, holding him down as if to prevent him from escaping. It bore down upon him, taking his breath from him, causing him to gasp.

And then all was clear.

He bolted upright, as did his ancestors. They all shared looks of bewilderment and wheezed for much needed breath.

Everything made sense to Desmond. Why he was there. Why his ancestors were there.

He was there for the sole purpose of synchronization. He was required—by whoever this entire thing was created—to become one with his ancestors once and for all for the sake of ending the Templar order.

But this had already been explained even before the first synchronizing event occurred. The voice had—although somewhat vaguely—explained that each of them was about to roll down the path of unity—or some shit like that. But what hadn't been explained that with every lesson, there was one of equal or greater importance matched with the inner soul of its learner.

The whole concept reminded Desmond of Newton's Third Law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction—not that any of the other Assassins would even know just who in the hell Isaac Newton was.

A sigh escaped Desmond's windpipe as he wiped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket—his jacket! He peered down at his apparel and noticed that he was covered in his normal clothing and not the Masyaf robes.

And once again, the odd feeling that someone or something undressed him crawled under his skin and made him shiver uneasily.

Quickly dismissing the thought of anyone stripping him naked, Desmond shared glances with his ancestors. "So," he began, breaking the silence, "what should we do now?"

Ezio shrugged his shoulders as he glanced around the seemingly endless void in which they resided. He squinted his eyes as if he saw something in the distance, and then seemed to quickly dismiss it. He removed the cowl from his head and freed his ponytail from underneath the fabric. Folding his legs in front of him, he rested his elbows on his lower thighs and sighed. "I'm at a loss," he said simply.

"What are you lost with?" the voice echoed throughout the Mainframe. "Are my methods confusing? Do you understand why you are here? Did my explanation not answer your questions?"

The Florentine shook his head. "Not exactly. You say that Desmond needs to harmonize with our actions and motives. If that is so, then why aren't we only teaching him lessons? Why are we teaching each other the lessons for Desmond's benefit?"

The mysterious voice chuckled. "But if you don't learn from your older and younger selves, then how will you successfully fill your duties as an Assassin? How else can you learn skills other than from someone that knows exactly how expectations of that skill must be met?"

Ezio's brow knitted as he allowed all of this to soak into his mind. He exchanged glances with Desmond, who was also pondering it all.

"But," Desmond began, the gears in his mind whirring, "if I'm supposed to learn this for synchronization, then why wasn't all of this brought up before I experienced Altaïr's life? Why am I learning this in the middle of Connor's? The supposed end of the world is nearing, and I need to stop the Templars from taking advantage of the situation. There has to be another reason other than synchronization!"

The voice was silent for a moment before it spoke. "You are right. There is another reason, but you must figure that out by yourself. There is another reason for each of you to be here, and it is all the same reason. You may not realize the true meaning of my actions by bringing you all here, but in time, you will understand. And all of you will, hopefully, be thanking me for it. Especially you, Desmond."

Desmond arched his brow. How would he be thanking this mysterious voice? Why would he be thanking it? What would it teach all of them? Why was it the same lesson and not individual ones? Wouldn't that be easier?

"Now," the voice began in a rather cheery fashion, "let's go over what you have all learned, shall we?

"Connor, you are now a man! You have successfully learned how to fuck a woman with ease, all due to your mentor, Ezio. You have learned that your best approach to a woman is to be her knight in shining armor, and you have also learned a very important side-lesson from being a knight in shining armor: The world always works two ways. You give, and you take. A man kills a robber, and the woman beds the man. It's a simple process, but you had been raised in your village that one must only give. You seemed to block out the 'taking' portion of the bargain, which can be the most potent way to take you down. Anyone could take advantage of your kind nature, which is definitely something that you must avoid as an Assassin.

"Altaïr, although you may not see it, you have accomplished something that the majority of your Masyaf Brotherhood has not. You have faced your blatant fear of the 'liquid abyss' that man must consume to survive. You can immerse yourself in it, take down any predator, and hide for a quick getaway! Your lesson did not end there, I'm afraid. No. You also had to deal with someone that actually knew something that you did not. You had to, essentially, endure the unrelenting behavior of a superior much like yourself. That is a lesson that all humans must learn in his or her life.

"Ezio, you jail hound. You undertook the path of drunken revelry and look where it took you! Straight to the slammer! You foolishly challenged guards while intoxicated, and you paid for it deeply. But, of course, you were paired with an ex-convict, weren't you? Connor had spent a little time in jail before, and he was able to be your mentor throughout the process. You obtained injuries, but you managed not to act in rage or revenge until time revealed itself. Patience is a valuable tool under the belt of any skillful Master Assassin, and you put forth the effort—unknowingly, of course—to obtain it. Connor would not announce the plan until the time was right, something to which you were seemingly not acclimated.

"And, last but not least, Desmond. You possessed the training of a decent Assassin, yet you decided to undergo guidance to hone your skills, did you not? Your mentor tested your skills in the art of climbing, surveying, and fighting. You performed exceedingly well for someone who hadn't used much of his training in nine years. You showed your mentor that you had in fact been trained, and I do believe that he was somewhat impressed with your performance. Your mentor also tested you in the lost art of faithful leaping. No, I do not mean the actual Leap of Faith you performed from the top of the viewpoint. I am referring to the Leap of Faith you performed when you trusted Altaïr. You trusted him with, well, your life. He could have killed you right then and there when he split your palm open. If he had sliced a little deeper in your hand, he easily could have popped veins and possibly an artery. After you fainted, he was the one that dressed your wound and brought you to Malik's bureau. You were forced to trust him with your life, and that is something that not everyone can do."

The Assassins all exchanged looks at each other as they all felt the presence of the voice evaporating for the moment, allowing all of their lessons from the first set of pairings to settle within them.

The modern-day Assassin threw a smirk at his Native ancestor. "It's about time that you got laid. I was half expecting that you were going to be more like Ezio and chase after anything with a skirt."

Connor narrowed his eyes at his descendant, the color of rose creeping up his neck.

Ezio cracked a smile, clapping his Native descendant on the shoulder. "He did well with a personal friend of mine. I am happy that he got to experience a night with her in Firenze."

Desmond arched a brow, completely awestruck. "Cristina or Caterina?"

Ezio's smile grew wider. "The former of the two."

The Native descendant shrugged Ezio's hand from him and cut his narrowed eyes at both descendant and ancestor, the obvious color of embarrassment painting his skin.

The modern descendant and Renaissance ancestor shared a devious grin as Altaïr merely watched the seemingly pointless scene unfold.

"This is how my descendants pass their time in crucial moments?" he asked to no one in particular. "Do you buffoons engage in conversation in this topic often whilst you are keeping the Templars at bay?"

"No, I do not," Connor snapped immediately, furrowing his brow. "I usually do not partake in such activity during pressing times."

"You can say that again," Desmond muttered under his breath with a snort.

The Syrian eagle narrowed his eyes at his three descendants. "It truly is no wonder why in the world we were all plucked from our lives. You three clearly need to learn a few things before facing Templars."

"Oh, and you don't?" Desmond countered. "Mr. I'm-Afraid-of-Water?"

Altaïr snorted. "At least I didn't fall for a blood oath."

The descendant threw his arms over his head, furrowing his brow. "How was I supposed to know that you medieval people didn't do shit like that?"

"Just be pleased that I didn't land us in jail," Altaïr sneered, cutting his eyes to the Italian.

The Italian clenched his jaw. "In Firenze I was able to escape execution, thank you very much."

"But you were not under the British-Colonial justice system," Connor countered as his coloring appeared to return to its natural shade. "I, on the other hand, was almost hung for a conspiracy plot in which I held no part not long ago."

"I escaped a conspiracy plot while my father and brothers were hung under false accusations under orders of a Grand Master Templar!" Ezio defended, jabbing his index finger into the Native's chest as he rose to his feet. "I witnessed the fleeting breath of my family from a public crowd, for God's sake!"

"I would love for you to enjoy witnessing your only parent burning under rubble at the innocent age of four!" Connor roared, bolting to his feet. "My mother was robbed from my life as a young boy, which is a horrible incident that no child should endure. I knew nothing of my father until nine years later!"

"Enough!" a voice boomed. The Syrian eagle apparently had his fill of the argument because he held a silencing finger as he quickly rose to his feet and stood in between his middle two descendants. "You two honestly think your pathetic lives can even compare to one of true tragedy?" He snorted in derision as he assessed the situation. "I was born into the Brotherhood, unlike you two. My mother's life expired during childbirth. During the First Crusades, my father was slaughtered in an attempt to save a fellow Assassin on the battlefield. That man, in turn, took his own life in front of my very eyes at the young age of eleven. As of today, the man's son despises me due to the doubt in his mind. He does not believe that his father took his life, and he claims that I speak false tongue."

The Italian and the Native shared glances and grimaced as Desmond slowly rose to his feet.

The modern Assassin rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you all need to calm down before we all fucking desynchronize or something," he broke the momentary silence. "This has gone way out of hand, and I think that we just don't need to bring up much about our past."

Altaïr arched his brow. "Oh? Do you possess more tragedy in your past than any of us?"

"No, not really," Desmond admitted with a sigh. "I thought that I had a pretty shitty life before the Templars abducted me. I was born into the Brotherhood like you, Altaïr. My parents are both alive at the moment, but they were always overprotective while I grew up. I lived in a secluded community, and we kids were always under surveillance. We couldn't do much in our spare time, which was rare because we always trained. We learned about the Assassins and the Templars, as any Assassin-in-training does. I honestly thought it was a load of bullshit. I mean, why the hell would anyone believe it? I figured it was just some bogeyman story to scare us to never run away or some shit like that.

"So what did I do? I ran. I ran to New York and lived there for nine years. Then, well, I was abducted by Abstergo and forced to help locate the Apple. I was shoved into the Animus and relived life through your eyes, Altaïr. Then Lucy—an Assassin—busted me out. She brought me to a warehouse where I relived through the first forty or so years of Ezio's life. Then we had to escape the warehouse because the Templars found us. We relocated to the Auditore Villa—"

"My family's villa?" Ezio interrupted. "You were there?"

Desmond nodded. "Yeah. Everywhere else was modernized, but the villa was dilapidated. We had to be careful when stepping outside at any and all times because Templars could easily track us. I then lived through your Roman days and watched you hide the Apple in the Coliseum. My group headed there," Desmond's voice began fading. He grimaced as his recollections began to near the pivoting point of his life. He snapped into focus. "We all went inside the Vault. Eventually, we all surrounded the Apple, and when I grabbed it…" He paused, recollecting the exact moment. "Juno, a First Civ, showed me the truth. She showed me that Lucy was a sleeper agent for Abstergo. She was a Templar in disguise. She was going to take the Apple and give it to Vidic.

"And I couldn't let that happen. I felt Juno overpower my will, as if I was under the influence of the Apple itself. She made me kill Lucy—well, not exactly. I knew that I couldn't let her have the Apple. The Templars would have been in control then. I couldn't let that happen…

"And then I knocked myself into a coma. I relive your travels in Constantinople, and I meet another one of your descendants. His name was Clay, and he was also the subject just before me. After I relived your life, I wake up in front of a First Civ temple, that's when I started reliving Connor's life. But now, I'm stuck with three of my ancestors in the Animus Mainframe," he concluded as he casted a glance to Altaïr. "And that's the 'tragedy' in my past. It doesn't match up or even compare to yours, but I think that my future's going to be worse than anything."

The three ancestors silently stood, staring at their youngest descendant.

Desmond could tell that they were all transfixed with his tale, although it wasn't a gut wrenching tale of pain and sorrow. They seemed to hold onto every word, allowing them to sink into their thick skulls.

Suddenly, a noise reverberated throughout the empty void of the Mainframe, startling the four Assassins.

It was the sound of clapping.

"And this is exactly why I brought you here," the mysterious voice announced, sounding as if he or she was utterly amazed by the tale. "I commend you, Desmond. I truly do. Your bravery exceeds even that of your ancestors for taking a giant Leap of Faith into the arms of Assassins and Templars alike." The voice seemed to talk through a smile—a genuine one at that. "You tale has truly brought the bond of the blood that your all possess closer. You are all closer to synchronization than you had been before you all returned to the Mainframe, and for that, I will tell you your next mentor and pupil sessions.

"Connor, you will learn your next lesson from Desmond. Altaïr, you will learn your next lesson from Ezio. Then, after those are completed, you will switch roles, just as before."

The Assassins once again traded glances with one another as they allowed the news to soak in. They all looked at their new partner and silently waited for sleep to take them under…

But the sleep never came. After a moment of standing in the middle of the endless void with perplexed expressions, the voice merely began softly chuckling.

"What? Are you waiting for something?" it asked.

"Aren't you supposed to knock us out or something?" Desmond inquired curiously.

The voice barked a laugh. "I didn't do that the first time! You stroked out!"

"Stroked out?" Ezio repeated. He knitted his brow in perplexity, then he cracked a devious grin. "That sounded rather…risqué."

The modern-day Assassin glanced at his Italian ancestor and shared a smaller version of his grin. "Yeah, it kinda did."

The voice groaned in frustration. "Okay, I should have seen that in the works. Perhaps I should watch what I say so that you don't make an innuendo from it, hm?" It seemed to ponder a moment in thought before returning to the matter at hand. "Anyway, you four seemingly had strokes at the same time. Either that or desynchronization. I'm going with the latter of the two. Now that you are closer than before, I'm able to merely snap my fingers and pop you'll be in your next locations."

SNAP!

And the four were gone without a trace in a rather anti-climactic fashion.


And thus ends another chapter. I must say, this one was actually rather difficult to write. I was going for something a little more serious than this, but I didn't like how it turned out. Thus, I decided to make them discuss their pasts (in a rather weird way). At first, that scene wasn't even going to appear in the chapter, but my fingers decided to type whatever the hell they wanted and POP there it was. (And I must say, I do enjoy the set-up of it!)

But anywhoodles, if you have any comments/questions/concerns about this chapter or my story in general, leave a review or PM me. I appreciate all of the feedback that I receive and I warmly welcome it! ^.^