There is something in the simple arrangement of shapes and shades that make up the view of the business end of a gun that has the power to make any rational human freeze on the spot and also, in some cases, immediately empty the contents of their bowels and/or bladder. Luckily for Desmond, he was only afflicted with the former problem, though he was in no mood to count his blessings.

Daniel Cross tilted his head a little to one side as though peering around his pistol and smiled at the two Assassins before him. With his goatee and slightly sharp features, there was something uniquely devilish in his expression.

Clay was the first of them to speak. 'Hello, Daniel,' he said, in an impossibly calm voice. 'How's the head?'

Daniel glanced over at him and Desmond saw the yellowing residue of a bruise on the left side of his head, between his eye and his hairline. 'Kaczmarek,' he responded, raising an eyebrow laconically. 'Out of the adult diapers? Good for you.'

The reason for Clay's words became clear a moment later when Bill's urgent whisper came through on Desmond's headset. 'Desmond, stay calm, and do not let him get his hands on that Piece of Eden. Remember he can't harm you so long as it stays in your possession.'

Lifting a hand to his ear - the ear closest to the bruise - Daniel touched a button on the side of a headset identical to Desmond's own, and Desmond realised with a sinking feeling that it was his headset, the one that he had lost.

'Thanks for the info, Bill,' Daniel said conversationally. He barely moved; there was a simple shift in the angle of his arm as he adjusted his aim. Clay didn't even flinch as the gun's attention was brought over to him, though his fists clenched at his sides as he stared Daniel down.

Desmond ran through the possible options in his head. He had no idea whether or not Daniel considered Clay to be expendable, but there was no way of testing it without risking Clay being shot. He could try to pass the Shard over, but what if Daniel fired the gun before the action was complete? Tackling the man or making any manner of sudden movement carried the same risks. In the end, Desmond tried for diplomacy. 'What do you want?'

'Throw your earpieces away, for starters. Sorry, Bill, but your boy and I need to have a private conversation.' With that, Daniel flicked the switch on his own headset to cut off any communication from his end.

As Desmond lifted a hand obediently to his ear he heard his father speak frantically, with rustling movements beneath the words. 'Desmond, do what he says, but don't give him the Shard! We'll find you, I promise...'

Desmond had hesitated temporarily in order to listen to his father's message, and Clay had made no move at all. Daniel rolled his eyes and then fired the gun - impossibly loud as it echoed around the temple walls - and out of the corner of his eye Desmond saw Clay yell and spin around a little. Instinctively, without thinking about the consequences, he ripped the headset away from his ear and threw it so that it skittered off the edge of the platform and vanished, before darting to Clay's side and using his body to brace the staggering man against a fall. It took him a moment to realise that there was no blood.

Clay lifted his shaking fingers away from his ear. His headset was gone and in the place where it had been attached to his ear there was nothing left but a slight graze. Daniel had managed to shoot the thing away from his head without so much as clipping Clay's skin. Desmond swallowed hard as he acknowledged the kind of marksmanship that such a shot would have taken.

'He's good,' Clay said in a shaking voice, and Desmond realised that he was laughing. He groaned inwardly at the realisation. The last thing they needed right now was for Clay to go off the deep end.

Daniel took a few steps forward, keeping the gun trained on both of them, and Desmond saw him frown for a moment before he looked at the pedestal, facial muscles tightening and then relaxing. 'In-ter-est-ing,' he said slowly, reaching out with his right hand and hovering it over the platform where the Shard had lain. With a welling sense of disbelief, Desmond recognised the expression in Daniel's eyes, for he had seen Clay using the same expression not so long ago. Daniel had Eagle Vision.

He finally laid his hand upon the pedestal and pressed downwards, and the stone floor beneath them all shuddered, nearly toppling Desmond off-balance. A section of the pedestal had sunken beneath Daniel's fingers and the platform that they were standing on was moving, rising, up towards the distant ceiling of the temple and leaving the steps far behind them, so that there was no escape. Panic flooded through Desmond as he held on to Clay to keep stable and stared upwards at the lightless space above. What if this was some kind of ancient booby trap, and they were all about to be smooshed between the floor and the ceiling? That would be an undignified ending for the Assassins and the Templar alike.

There came an awful moment when the light from his glow stick reached the flat stone surface above them and the rising platform showed no signs of slowing. Suddenly the black sky above them parted and a ray of fluorescent light fell upon them all, followed swiftly by a cascade of foul-smelling water that poured from the twin edges of the parting ceiling like a pair of hideous waterfalls. Daniel scowled at the combination of bright light and cold water, raising an arm to shield his face.

There could be no better opportunity than this.

As the platform rose into the new arena, Desmond released Clay and hurled himself fully at Daniel in a tackle worthy of any dedicated college footballer. Taken off-guard, Daniel hit the ground hard and they both slid across the slippery stone beneath them, soaking in the water that pooled beneath them and dripped down onto them. They came to rest with Daniel's head just over the edge, and the Templar stared up wide-eyed at the fast-closing gap between the platform and the ceiling as Desmond sat up and leaned back, keeping one hand on his opponent's throat to hold him down. He hesitated - just for a moment - with his stomach already churning at the mental image of what was about to happen.

Decapitation. Well, it would be messy, but it would also be quick, and it would be final. Daniel definitely wouldn't be getting up to chase them after this. Desmond tightened his grip...

... And made the mistake of looking down, of meeting Daniel's eyes. They were wide and unabashedly terrified, like a child's, and damn it Desmond had done this before, had killed in combat before, but it had never been like this. He was close enough to feel Daniel's hot, panting breath on his cheek, and when it happened he would see every detail of it: the slow, wet crunch and then the spray, and the twitching, and finally the stillness.

Daniel struggled. Desmond held him down. The ceiling approached and Daniel was forced to turn his head to one side in order to delay the impact. He was inches from the point of no return. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see the end as it came.

'Oh, fuck this,' Desmond said disgustedly, and with that he released Daniel's throat, grabbed his ankle, and dragged him backwards, back to safety, the closing divide whispering against the damp tips of his blond hair as he slid across the smooth stone.

A gun barrel appeared over Desmond's shoulder and he jumped, only to find that Clay had retrieved Daniel's pistol and was keeping it trained on him as he began to writhe to his feet, gasping and holding his throat.

'That's the second time you've shown him mercy,' Clay commented with a grim smile.

'Yeah, it's a bad habit,' Desmond replied.

'You have no idea.' Daniel's voice was hoarse as he raised a hand, lifted something over his own head and then lowered it. Desmond saw what it was and cursed inwardly as Daniel stood up with the Shard of Eden on its chain around his neck. Somewhere in the struggle, it must have changed hands.

Daniel reached out to Clay and made a beckoning gesture. 'I'll take my gun back now, thanks.'

'Sure thing.' Clay squinted down the barrel. 'How about I hand it over one bullet at a time?'

The gun fired for the second time that day, but Daniel was already darting forward. There was a brief flash of blue light as the bullet rebounded harmlessly, a good six inches away from Daniel's skin, and then Clay was crying out as a powerful hand landed on his forearm, Daniel's fingers digging cruelly into the still-raw scar tissue.

Taking advantage of the situation, Desmond lashed out with his fist, aiming for the old bruise on the side of Daniel's head in the hope that he might be able to knock the Templar unconscious just as Clay had. A second later he was howling in pain as his fist collided with what felt like a bubble of electricity, an azure flash filling the air around them and crackling over Desmond's skin as he was thrown backwards to land painfully on his already-bruised tailbone.

He recovered just in time to see Daniel ram the heel of his free hand upwards and into Clay's jaw. Whether it was the final dissipation of the peace offered by the temple, or whether the blow had simply rescrambled Clay's brain, Desmond was never entirely sure. Whichever the reason, Clay's head snapped backwards with the impact and when he looked at Daniel again his eyes were wild and focused on something over his opponent's shoulder.

'Skurwysyn! Zabiję cię...'

'There's a good boy,' Daniel said gently, prying the gun from Clay's limp fingers. 'Probably best if you check out now.' He grabbed Clay by the collar and threw him bodily at Desmond, who had been in the process of getting back to his feet. The collision sent them both to the ground, where Clay immediately curled up, hands over his ears, groaning and whispering to himself with his eyes tightly shut.

Breathing heavily and wincing as he jolted his various injuries, Desmond climbed slowly to his feet, shivering from the adrenaline and the freezing water as he raised his chin and curled his hands into fists.

Daniel was soaked to the skin as well, but no longer seemed to be affected by it. He had the Shard and he had the gun. He raised an eyebrow at Desmond, who finally relaxed his muscles in resignation, feeling wretched and foolish and miserable.

The platform had emerged into a large chamber, lit by sturdy electric lamps built high on the walls streaked with water and occasional patches of moss. It transpired that they were somewhere in the sewers of St Petersburg, which at least explained the smell, and as Desmond walked slowly down the tunnels with Clay's arm stretched over his shoulders he felt sure that there were rats squeaking down below as they ran over his sneakers. He could hear Daniel walking behind him and he did not have to look back to know that the gun was still firmly trained on him.

They had been walking for five minutes when Clay stirred from his hypnotised stupor and shifted, extricating his arm and scrubbing at his face with both hands. This action completed, he looked up and around at the tunnels as though he had just woken up. His face was screwed up in concentration but he seemed to be present, at least. Finally he glanced back, and groaned.

'Shit. I thought I'd got him.'

Desmond couldn't help but laugh, despite the situation. 'Not exactly.'

'I'm sorry. Apparently I had business to attend to in another century.'

'Hey, I didn't fare much better, and I can't even pull the crazy card.'

Clay grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck, which was presumably aching after the blow that Daniel had dealt him. 'So what happens now? Is he taking us to his secret lair?'

'No idea. Hey, Daniel!' Desmond called over his shoulder. 'Are you taking us to your secret lair?'

'Shut up and keep walking.'

'I think that's a yes.'

They eventually found a ladder leading to the surface, and Daniel instructed Desmond to go up first and remove the drain cover, with a friendly reminder that if he tried to run, Clay would undergo some very aggressive ventilation.

The sewers opened up in a dirty alley a few streets away from the Winter Palace. Desmond immediately checked his surroundings, trying to find some way to effect their escape, but before they even began moving Daniel delivered another warning.

'I'm going to call for a car to come and pick us up. While we wait...' He took a few steps towards the street and gestured with his gun towards the people hurrying past. 'I will be keeping an eye on you. Make me chase you and I will start firing. If some poor little Russian school kid gets in the way and dies because of your inability to keep fucking still, then that will be on you. Think of this place as a whole city full of hostages, and if you mess me around then they'll be the ones to pay for it.'

It was obvious that he was being completely serious, and Desmond gritted his teeth in frustration. Left with no option, he decided to try reason. 'You were listening in the whole time, weren't you? When we were talking in the museum.'

Daniel already had his cell phone out, but paused for a moment to glance back at Desmond. 'Yeah, so?'

'So you heard me talking about the end of the world?'

'What if I did? You Assassins talk about that sort of thing all the time. You're all very theatrical.' Daniel's tone was mocking, but he still wasn't dialing, and Desmond spied a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

'I wasn't just speaking figuratively,' Desmond pressed on, risking a few steps to take him closer to Daniel. 'I meant the real thing. Fire and brimstone and the eradication of all life on the planet. It's real, Daniel, and it's coming. Soon.'

'He's right,' Clay broke in, moving to Desmond's side. 'I've seen it, inside the Animus. It's happened before and it's going to happen again. I can show you. I ... I hid the memories, the truth, when I first discovered it. I wanted to keep the knowledge out of Vidic's hands but if you come with us then you'll see, and you might even be able to help. You're an Assassin, aren't you?'

'No,' Daniel replied in a hard voice. 'I was never an Assassin. I just played one for a while.' He looked down at his cell phone and began dialing. 'Thanks for filling me in, though. All that stuff about fire and brimstone sounds very exciting. I'm sure Alan Rikkin will be interested to hear it.'

He spoke briefly on the phone in fluent Russian, keeping the gun casually trained on Desmond and Clay in order to curb any attempt at fleeing despite the threats. Barely three minutes must have passed when a long, black car with tinted windows reversed smoothly into the alley and two Templar guards climbed out of the front seats and nodded deferentially to Daniel.

'Cuff them,' he said, by way of greeting. 'These two are wrigglers. Don't be afraid to cut off their circulation.'

They were thrown mercilessly against the side of the car, arms pulled back roughly, and tough plastic zip ties were tightened around their wrists. Desmond looked over at Clay, hoping to catch his eye and silently communicate some kind of escape plan, but his partner had his eyes tightly shut and his lips pressed together, the obvious strain of remaining in the present visible on his face. Desmond swore internally and rushed through a dozen different strategies in his brain, trying to figure out what Ezio would do in this kind of situation. He was still thinking when a hand pressed firmly down onto his head, forcing him to duck into the car.

The rear section had two sets of seats, facing each other. Clay and Desmond were pushed into one set and Daniel positioned himself in the middle of the other two. The engine hummed to life.

'Seatbelts,' Clay said in a brittle voice.

'What's that, Girl Interrupted?'

Clay opened his eyes and glared at Daniel. 'You should put our seatbelts on. If we get into an accident I don't think your boss will be too happy when our heads get cracked open.'

'Bit late to start worrying about damaging your brain, Kaczmarek. Go on then. Never let it be said that I neglect health and safety.'

As the car pulled out of the alleyway and began its journey out of St Petersburg, Daniel leaned across and gripped Clay's seatbelt, pulling it down and over his lap before finally clipping it in place. He did the same for Desmond, who waited until Daniel was very close before jerking his knee up violently, trying to land a kick in a sensitive area. Daniel responded by slamming a clenched fist down hard onto Desmond's thigh, immediately deadening the whole area, then calmly completing the process he'd been engaged in. Satisfied that they were both strapped in, Daniel sat back in his seat with no indication that any kind of struggle had taken place.

They travelled in silence for some time. Desmond's arms and back soon began to ache from the way that his bound hands were held behind him and pressed into the seat back. He pulled against the zip tie but only succeeded in chafing his wrists until the freshly exposed layers of his skin stung.

As they left the main city and set out on the final stretch of road towards the airport, Desmond glanced over at Clay, who was leaning his head against the cool glass of the window and watching the landscape roll by. He felt a sudden flash of guilt that he had broken Clay out of the mental hospital only to get him violently recaptured again.

'What happens to Clay now?' he asked Daniel.

Their captor had been calmly sending a text, but he looked up at the sound of Desmond's voice, meeting his eyes for a moment before turning his gaze to Clay. 'He'll be brought back to Abstergo, with you.'

'But you don't need him. Can't you take him back to the hospital? He still needs treatment.'

Clay closed his eyes.

'We thought we didn't need him,' Daniel replied. 'Then you guys went out of your way to break him out. That made him interesting to us again.'

It had been precisely what Desmond hadn't wanted to hear. He lowered his head and then looked over, trying to catch Clay's eye. 'Hey,' he said softly, though he knew that Daniel would hear anyway. 'I'll get you out of this, I promise.'

Clay didn't look away from the window, but a smile played over his lips. 'You won't have to.'

Desmond's lips had barely shaped the start of a question before the world suddenly jerked away, leaving his head and internal organs flailing to catch up. They were spinning, spinning, and there was broken glass flying everywhere and cutting into his skin like a thousand small swords. He heard yelling from the front seats, but could not see anything as he had clenched his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to shield them from the slivers of glass. The spinning came to an end as they slammed up against something hard and the vehicle groaned and creaked and then tipped, falling onto its side and wobbling for a moment before finally collapsing onto its roof.

Desmond hung from his seatbelt, his ears ringing. He blacked out for a few seconds, but was brought back to reality by the sounds of shouts and gunshots. He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and saw Daniel rolling onto his stomach and then crawling out through the empty window, drawing his gun as he did so. There was one final gunshot, followed by the sound of a struggle, and then relative silence fell. Desmond feebly tried to extricate himself from his cuffs or his seatbelt, stopping when a wave of agony spread through his left shoulder. His head was bent at an awkward angle against the crushed roof and he couldn't see Clay, and couldn't muster the strength to call out and ask if he was OK.

Desmond stared groggily into the light that was seeping into the wrecked car from the space where the window had once been. Shadows fell across it, and just before he lost consciousness he saw Rebecca's face and heard her calling out to him.

'Nice rescue,' Desmond muttered. Then he passed out.