Hello, hello, welcome back. I think right now is a good time to finally explain why I thought vampires and AC fit together. Well, see, I find it odd that Altair, Ezio and Desmond look exactly the same. The only difference they have is their cultural backdrop, but it's all being compressed into Desmond through the bleeding effect, making it seem to him like he's already lived two lives (plus his own). You might be wondering where the plot might be heading to. Keep in mind I'm sticking to the game plot and their actual real life personalities, but as for the actual ending, I'd like to invite you to my profile for a poll. After all, I aim to please. This one is dedicated to NeverLookBackSamurai as well as TheAllPowerfulOz.To everyone reading and leaving reviews. Thank you. You don't know how precious your are to me.
((F-Finals... FINALS *dies*))
Leila was gasping for breath. She looked behind her, watching the man (her assailant, if you will) laugh and taunt her. Just a couple more blocks! A couple more and she'd be in her apartment!
"Where ya goin' pretty! Jus' wanna have some fun!"
She refused to let the tears in her face be seen, much less allow herself to be caught by this moron searching for some 'fun'. Fun she was not going to give, never. She'd rather die. She should've listened to Lucy and take the ride she was so insistent on. Something about predators out in the night. Pretty ironic, huh?
"Oi! It ain' funny no more, lady! Gotcha!"
She screamed. As high as she could. She kicked and punched, the man laughing as he grabbed her arms and forced her against the wall. He sniffed her, licked her neck and she screeched even louder. He punched her cheek, yelled for her to shut up. She screamed louder, and for a few seconds it felt like her vocal chords were going to snap. Then, just like that, there was a glint of silver, followed by a sudden burning pain in her stomach.
She gurgled, fell to the floor in a heap while he groaned.
"Great, now I have to fuck a corpse."
She felt those hands rip apart her shirt, open her jeans. Those disgusting eyes savored her and she could feel herself ebb away, into either unconsciousness or death. Judging by the size of the wound and the amount of blood she was losing, death seemed most probable. Listen to her, thinking about her death like a coroner rather than having her mind on being raped and killed. She could already read her report. How stupid.
There was a movement at the corner or her eye and suddenly, the man was off her. She heard a scream, a pained, terrified one. Her head turned towards where he had left and her eyes widened. They were two of them. They seemed human, except, they weren't. In her state, she couldn't explain it, but she just knew it, as if some instinctual part of her responded to those... things.
One of them was hunching on the floor, the white hoodie he was wearing covering his face, and curiously, his feet were barefooted. He serenely watched as the other mauled her attacker. And she meant mauling in the unrealistic movie sort of way. Like that one time when she watched a video of a large lion eating an actual human being, the body flapping like some ragdoll, the insides pink and vulnerable. The one doing the mauling was thin and scraggy, but his strength. Oh god. She'd been scared before, but what she was seeing now?
She was terrified.
There were bits and pieces flying everywhere, some of the blood even matted her face. When the body, still breathing and twitching finally fell on the floor, she couldn't look away when the other started eating her attacker's face off. Or when he started on his intestines, his flesh.
A small whimper from her made the serene one turn and she froze. His lone eye staring at her. It judged her, labeled her as weak, useless. Nothing but fodder. He rose from his place and she tried to scramble away, managing it even with her blood loss, her fear far too primal, too strong. He stopped and hunched over her, those disgusting gold eyes burning into her very self. Not her soul, no, but into her, as a human being.
"You smell like Lucy."
Lucy? She blinked, both trying to clear her vision and fend off the grip of dark unconsciousness that tried to hold her. These things know Lucy?
"But you're not my problem."
Leila Marino watched as the hooded man walked away, passing by his partner who kept devouring her ex-assailant without a care in the world. In her last minutes of life, she found she pitied these men. Somehow, the hooded one's eyes, apart from downright terrifying, had seemed full of self-loathing. She couldn't explain it, but she just knew that the poor man carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Look at her, thinking about sadness of other people when she was dying. How stupid.
Waking up alone is rather a downer after bloody fantastic sex, but well; the bloke had to leave before sunrise, didn't he? Shaun stared wistfully at the empty space besides him and rolled his eyes. The idiot could've at least woken him up to say good-bye. So much for not being corny. Getting up was rather with cleaning up the... mess. There was a point where he glared at his reflection and at the bright purple mark on the connection between neck and shoulder, because honestly, these things were vulgar (although it made him feel rather smug.) But, he thought, chest puffing out in pride, he'd been the one to do the fucking, which, by default, made him the guy in the relationship (that's how it worked, right?)
Really, his day was already great. Not to mention that before he left, there was already a text begging and apologizing to Shaun that he'd make it up to him, cross his heart, hope to die. The Brit rolled his eyes but fondly answered back, ignoring Rebecca's pleas to tell her what had happened the night before. Like bloody hell he was going to say anything for now. Let her suffer in silence for a bit. Then he'd slap her with the whole thing (innuendo, oh how witty thy are) and enjoy her dismayed face as her lone opportunity to poke fun at his virginity vanished.
As a matter of fact, his whole week afterwards was fantastic.
You know that thing about sex releasing stress? Bloody fantastic piece of advice, that is (and he was actually looking forward to a repeat. And another. And another. And ano-.) His tests and papers practically flew through nimble fingers and his mood couldn't have been better (Rebecca was terrified of him a week after and demanded he release his malefic hold of the real Shaun.) Even the universe itself seemed to be on his side. The Codex arrived far earlier than expected, his final thesis was moved back, his job gave him a raise (he didn't even care it was minimal) and to top it off with a cherry, there was a high chance probability that he'd become the top scored student in his entire class generation (thank you, thank you.)
The only thing dampening his excellent week was, of all things, Desmond. It was like the earth itself had opened up, swallowed him whole and left absolutely nothing of him. No messages, no voicemails, no visits, not even a goddamn email. He gave a puff, his mood beginning to darken as he placed back a book with a little too much force.
"He's not doing it on purpose, if that's what you think."
Shaun glared at Lucy who had this look of amusement in her face that he wanted to slap off. But a gentleman never hits a woman (except for Rebecca, though she couldn't really pass as a woman.)
"Oh, I'm sure he isn't responding to anything I've sent him because he's sunbathing somewhere, or saving other poor hapless souls or eating them, maybe eating a baby or two, because he's a soulless monster who won't bloody answer my calls!"
"You sound so much like the girl."
"I am not a girl!"
Lucy smirked. "I bet you even bottom."
His nose went up and he now felt satisfied to be the one smirking.
"I'm sorry to inform you that I do not bottom. As a matter of fact I-"
"Was Desmond on top of you?"
"What? Yes, but I was the one-"
"He was on top of you."
"Well, yes, but-"
"You're a total bottom."
"What! Why?"
Now she had this look that said 'Oh, you poor, ignorant soul.' See, all these smug females were the reason he went gay (Desmond's arse has nothing to do with it.)
"You do know that Desmond doesn't care who tops , right?"
He blinked, a book half-way to the shelf.
"What do you mean?"
She shook her head, not to mention she was doing her best to stop the widening smile on her face.
"Desmond doesn't really care about position. As in, you, him, turns, permanent role, doesn't matter. As long as it's sex, it's fine with him. "
Shaun's incredulous stare had her giggling behind her hands. He didn't care? Then, wait, how, what..? Please standby, we are experiencing technical difficulties. Our technicians are trying to reconnect Shaun's brain due to Lucy's mindfuck technique. As you have seen, it has left him slightly incapacitated and unable to cope with the idea that he may have indeed shagged Desmond, but he's still not the guy in the relationship. We will return after these few messages!
Desmond stared at the people down below, tiny little spots from his view, high in the renamed Willis Tower. He was some-what tired, but then again, being tired with his condition came and went. His cell phone chimed for the umpteenth time, but it was the tone he'd chosen for Shaun (somewhat of a joke between them. He insisted Shaun was a male GLaDOS and he'd selected the "Want You Gone" song as the Brit's personal ring tone. Shaun was not pleased by this.) He stared at the little device as it kept ringing. His... business was done. He still had to go to Syria in a few weeks, but, he guessed he could make some time for his lover.
There was a fond smile on his features. Lover. Now that was a term he hadn't used in a long time. He flipped it open and grimaced a bit, waiting for the yelling to come.
"Hey." Small, tentative, normal approach. It had to be a good move, right?
"YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"
This is why he liked Shaun. Sometimes he knew how he'd react, and then he'd go and exaggerate it, or do something exactly opposite.
"Three bloody weeks! Three! You wouldn't answer the bloody mobile, wouldn't even bloody text me back! You better have some life or death excuse or I will personally castrate you, you wanker!"
"I've missed you too, Shaun."
"Oh don't you bloody start on your gentleman act! Where the bloody hell have you been?"
He leaned back, cradling the phone on his shoulders as he readjusted his socks. He liked being so precariously on the edge. An old joy he'd never been able to get rid of. The other tennis tapped against the glass panel.
"Here, there. Nowhere even."
"You know Desmond, if not for your total lack of a brain, I'd say your witty comments are charming, funny even."
"But it's true!"
Nowhere was a place he didn't like to go, but from time to time, his various lives would bleed together, mingle, and he couldn't have Shaun watch that. Lucy had locked herself up for a full month after one of his attacks. Sixteen's was common occurrence, but it seemed watching her dad raving mad, talking in too many languages at once, speaking to people long dead stressed her, even now.
"I'm sure it is. Are you going to come over? Or do I have to get in line to be graced with your presence?"
"No, you don't have to be in line. I don't think anyone could manage being in line with you."
"Excuse me! Who do you think you-!"
The phone was snapped shut. A deep breath and he looked again at the little people. Surprising, how at this moment if they all dropped dead he wouldn't care but any harm to Lucy or Shaun would have him in another murderous rampage (his last one had started in Firenze, somewhere in 1476.) Then again, in this day and age, that wasn't really simple. Like when they went out to 'eat'. Ugh, had to rip the goddamn body to shreds so the bites won't look that obvious.
He gets up, places the phone into his backpack, and jumps off the edge into the world down below.
Shaun is angry. No, scratch that. Shaun is pissed. No, not that either, too tame. Let's see...
Shaun is ten seconds away from castrating the bloody wanker holding on to him like some goddamn leech and maybe cut him into little pieces and feed them to some hobo.
Yes, that's a bit more appropriate! Shaun waddled his way back to his room, looking very much like a penguin of sorts. It was hard to walk when you had your boyfriend hugging you and waddling after you, face plastered to your back and butt sticking out (it was so fucking stupid but it was so ridiculously endearing.) The moment he'd opened the door, the idiot had latched on to him, nuzzling his neck and saying a curt "I missed you." Anything the Brit had yelled was completely ignored as he kept nuzzling him, giving him quick pecks and kissed and not letting go.
Eventually, he stopped trying to even make him listen and had gone about ignoring him and going about his business. The plan, however, backfired magnificently, as all his plans involving the parkourist do. Now he walked about cleaning and cooking dinner with a Desmond on. He couldn't sit, because the American would arrange himself somehow and manage to stay attached to him (uncomfortably so, but not a complaint was piped). He couldn't walk because the waddle was undignified, so finally, he settled to flopping unceremoniously on the bed. They both fall on it and silence reigns for a few minutes while Desmond wiggles his way up, wrapping his arms around the other's neck and nuzzling him, quiet and content.
"...I'm still angry at you." Shaun murmurs after a long while, when his body feels light and his eyelids feel heavy.
"M'sorry." It's mumbled back, muffled because his face is still buried in Shaun's neck.
"Are you going to tell me where you were?"
"Nowhere."
"I'm being serious."
"Me too."
Glasses looked down to meet brown pupils. There was no twinkle of joy in them, no amusement. For a minute, he even thought there was absolutely nothing in them. But then he blinked and it was replaced with a weary sort of happiness. He reaches up, the only sound being the rustle of clothes and linen and presses a soft kiss to the Brit's lips.
"It was lonely though. That's why I came back, and because I love you, but that's secondary."
Shaun snorted, rolled his eyes as the other chuckled. They stayed like that, although he eventually gave in and wrapped his own arms around Desmond's waist.
"...you are so blatantly tacky."
"Only for you."
Close your eyes, just for a little bit. We're going to make a little experiment. This man besides you, in your bed, we'll compare his actions to you with the actions he took with another. No, he's not cheating on you, and the thought will never cross his mind so rest assured. The thing is, while you will be aware of the actions that are befalling your person, you will never be aware of the other actions to the other person, not until your lover finally tells you d G h h d C B o Z S B l Y X R z I H B l b 3 B s Z S B 0 b y B s a X Z l Base64
Let's begin.
The fingers that move and graze your skin, these same fingers that make you shudder when they press into your hips, the hands that bring you closer, to the other, they rip the skin, make him shudder in agony when they dig deep under the flesh and bring him closer.
You moan when his mouth licks its way from your collarbones to your neck. The mouth moves up and teeth gently nibble your lips, capture them and tease you to respond and you do, without a second thought. He screams when that same mouth tears from his collarbone to his neck. The mouth moves up and jaws bite down on the lips, capture them and force them to silence a scream and he does; he has no choice.
There's a feeling of anticipation when his hips grind into yours, a short moment of ecstasy when he wraps around you, heated tightness, all encompassing and you thrust into him. You're proud that you're the reason he makes those delightful noises, each one sending a tingle down your spine. You run your hand down his spine and he groans, moving and writhing under you. You wish this never ends.
There's a feeling of dread when his hips cage the other, a short moment of pain when his hand wraps around the beaten throat, cold tightness, all encompassing and he digs into him. The other is dismayed that he's the reason your lover is this violent, flesh opened and eaten, devoured because his hunger can no longer be held back. He digs his hand into the other's stomach and he groans, moving and biting into him. The other wishes it would just end.
Push in deeper and you feel yourself close. He's moaning freely now, gripping the sheets with a fine layer of sweat on his skin. You kiss the tanned skin and smirk. She won't be able to say you're the woman in the relationship. He comes with a gasp, muscles clenching around you and you follow shortly. Now you lie in a heap, tangled, warm and tired. He promises he'll clean you up this time. You merely glare and he kisses it away. In this instant, you know you can't stay mad at him.
Push in deeper and the other feels himself close. He's tearing bits and pieces freely now, taking the parts into his mouth like a greedy pig. He licks the other's blood from mauled skin. The other won't be able to see his sister again. He finally closes jaws over a neck, muscles twitching and convulsing and the body goes silent. Now the other lies in a puddle of blood, cold, open and tired. He stares impassively. The other merely stares back with empty eyes. In this instant, the other is no longer here.
As you can see, those fingers, that mouth, that body which is now pressed close to you, playfully bathing you, these same body parts killed someone just hours ago. The person you love, who nuzzles your neck with a warm smile coldly killed and ate a person, without a resemblance of pity. The man who wraps his arms around you, dries you with love and adoration in his eyes has no regard for the others in the street. To him, only you and someone else are human.
Everybody else is a buffet.
So in other words, the comparison you made earlier of him being a soulless monster might not be so misdirected. The test is now finished. You may now open your eyes and are encouraged to live in ignorance for as long as you can.
After all, in a few months, you are going to die. Enjoy your life.
There's a yell that shakes the whole apartment building that even goes through Rebecca's earphones. She arrives to Shaun's room expecting some hand job incident or maybe Des bit too hard (teehee). Unfortunately, her hopes are smashed when she only sees the aforementioned man squinting at a leather bound tome with a strange 'A' symbol on its front. Not to mention there's a lack of Desmond. Oh, pooey.
"What's got your pantie's up in a notch?"
She gets a glass-glare and he grumbles under his breath.
"I don't get a single bloody thing this says. Not only is it written in Arabic, it's written in a code. It's going to take me forever to decode this crap thing and the bloody woman couldn't even send me some sort of sheet to help! I want my bloody money back!"
Rebecca slowly makes her way out of the room, interest now gone.
Shaun closes the book with a huff and glares to the cover. He stays like this for a few minutes, looking but not really looking while thinking about what he'll tell that wench (and it will be nice and long and rude) when he snaps back into attention. He grabs the book, eyes wide as he looks at the symbol in the front. He's seen it before. As a matter of fact, he saw it yesterday night in the back of someone, tattooed in the hollow of Desmond's back.
They're the exact same symbol.
He can't help but stare at it. How can Desmond have this tattooed if this symbol is extremely rare? The only times he's seen it was when the lady sent a picture of how the Codex looked like and right now, here in his hand the actual image. Maybe he was part of the assassin order that he'd been studying about?
...
Yeah right. The book soared to his bed and he lay on the floor. Now his work was halted because of a stupid book with stupid symbols he couldn't read. Bloody fantastic. A smirk adorned his features as he remembered the other night. At the very least there was a silver lining to this.
He was not the girl in the relationship.