8th July 2012

He has been through hell and come out burned and tattered and barely recognisable as the man he once was. He is not longer even sure of who that man might have been: there are dozens now. He has gone back, all the way back, daring himself to go farther each time and finally he has arrived here, with them, in this place.

She shows him the Apple, her head tilted curiously. She tells him to touch it. He does not want to, but he does, and he is the stronger of the two of them. His hand rests on the singing metal. The message comes and it is terrible.

He protests. He refuses. He has come all this way and torn himself apart in the belief that he is somehow special.

He is not. He is a message-bearer: a courier for the Truth. A tool.

He can already feel Desmond Miles' foot stepping on his back.

She leans upon his mind and pries it open, forcing the Truth into him, and he relents. He agrees. He will deliver the message.

Then he will be allowed to die.

October 21st 2012

The two back legs of the chair scraped against the wooden floor and Desmond grunted in exertion as he dragged it along. It must have looked a strange sight: Desmond in front, walking backwards; Daniel still seated and tied up and looking exasperated at the treatment; Rebecca following the two of them at a safe distance with a taser gun armed and pointed at the captive Templar, wearing a deadly serious expression on her usually cheerful face.

'I can walk, you know,' Daniel called over his shoulder as they neared the main meeting room.

'Wouldn't hear of it,' Desmond panted. 'Here at Chateau Assassin you get the five star treatment. Chauffered to every destination.'

'He's right. By the way, this thing is aimed at your balls right now. Just in case you were thinking of trying to break out,' Rebecca added.

Daniel smirked suggestively at her and growled, 'You keep talking dirty to me like that and I won't need the taser to get warmed up.'

Desmond caught Rebecca's eye and grinned before abruptly letting go of the chair. Daniel yelped in alarm as it tipped backwards over its pivot point and he toppled to the ground, only to find himself caught milliseconds before impact.

'Whoops,' Desmond said innocently. 'Nearly dropped you there.'

'Desmond, are you defending my honour?' Rebecca asked in a mock-disapproving tone as Daniel tried to catch his breath.

'Of course not. You're carrying fifty thousands volts of electricity. I'm pretty sure you're capable of defending your own honour.'

'Quit horsing around,' Bill said darkly, appearing in the doorway to watch their arrival. 'And don't take your eyes off him.' He put a particular emphasis of distaste on the last word, as though we would have preferred to call Daniel an "it" and was being generous by gracing him with such a humanising pronoun.

Desmond rolled his eyes and dragged Daniel's chair over to the bank of computers where Shaun was waiting, depositing him just out of arm's reach. The historian folded his arms and glared down at the Templar.

'Ah, look who's graced us with his presence. Not so tough without your gun, are you?'

Daniel adopted a contrite expression. 'I'm sorry for shooting you in the arm,' he said seriously.

'Oh, really?'

'Really. I'll be sure to aim better next time.'

They were all assembled, ready for the call to Rikkin. Clay was hanging back, seated on a tableand staring blankly ahead in a way that made it unclear whether he knew what was going on or whether he was simply in the midst of living out another timeline. Shaun and Rebecca had everything set up to make a video call to Rikkin's office, but the security software would require a facial ID match for Daniel before allowing the call to go through, and Desmond had argued that Rikkin might be more inclined to listen if he saw his man being held hostage.

Bill had been sceptical. He still hated this idea. But Desmond had talked him around. This had to be the right thing to do. What other choices did they have?

'Is he in position?' Bill asked briskly.

'Yeah, he's all set up,' Rebecca replied, making a final adjustment to the webcam.

'OK. I'll talk to Rikkin,' Desmond said. 'I want the rest of you to stay off-camera and stay quiet. I'm not sure how much the Templars know about who's on this team, but if I can convince Rikkin that I'm working alone then it might make you guys less of a target for him. And you.' He stepped forward and threaded his fingers into Daniel's hair, gripping it tightly and twisting his head to the side so that they were eye-to-eye. 'If you want to make it out of here alive, you keep your mouth shut. Understood?'

Daniel grimaced and bucked his head defiantly, and in response Desmond twisted his wrist a little until the tip of his hidden blade was pressing lightly into the side of Daniel's skull. The Templar fell still, but his pale blue eyes were burning with anger. Despite the fact that Daniel was tied up, helpless, and unarmed, Desmond couldn't help but feel a stirring of fear as he looked into those eyes, and wondered how many deaths had been reflected in them, and whether Daniel cared at all for the people he had killed. He looked away and used his grip on Daniel's head to make the captive look directly forward, into the lens of the camera.

'Make the call, Rebecca.'

The large screen in front of Desmond came to life as Rebecca pushed a button on the keyboard and hurriedly ducked off to one side. After a short pause they were connected to Abstergo, and the security program flashed up and began analysing the webcam picture.

'Smile, asshole,' Desmond hissed.

Daniel didn't reply.

'Identity confirmed: Daniel Cross. Connecting you to Alan Rikkin,' came a cold robotic voice from the computer.

Desmond took a deep breath and arranged his face into a neutral expression as he watched the pinwheel turning on the screen. The seconds ticked by and Desmond was almost starting to wonder if the connection had failed when the screen changed suddenly and Desmond himself face-to-face with Alan Rikkin.

He was younger than Vidic, but not by much. His hair was cropped short and either dark brown or grey - it was difficult to tell from the video feed. His face was curiously rounded and at a glance he might have looked like a friendly elementary school teacher, until you looked a little closer and saw the bored coolness in his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of Daniel trussed up and Desmond standing over him, but didn't look particularly devastated.

'Miles,' he said curtly. 'What do you want?'

'Hello to you too.'

'Don't fuck me about, I'm a busy man. Did you really call me up just so you could kill Daniel in front of me? Or are you going to demand some kind of ransom?' Scorn dripped from his words,

'None of the above,' Desmond replied, releasing Daniel and taking a step towards the screen. 'I want to make a deal.'

Rikkin contemplated this for a second, before replying, 'What could you possibly offer me that I can't simply take from you when my men track you down? And they will track you down, Miles. You and your teammates, who you've no doubt instructed to keep out of sight. Let's see, Shaun Hastings, Rebecca Crane, Clay Kaczmarek and William Miles ... Is that everyone?'

Not for the first time, Desmond wished that he had a better poker face. He glanced over at Shaun and Rebecca, who were looking a little freaked out at hearing the most powerful Templar in the world speak their names. He tried to nod reassuringly at them before looking back at Rikkin and saying, 'They're not onscreen because they're not relevant right now. This is between you and me, Rikkin. And since you ask, I do have something that you can't take by force. Information.'

Rikkin smirked. 'You underestimate us, Miles. We have many ways of extracting information by force.'

Desmond decided he'd had enough of this volley of threats. It might not be a good negotiating strategy, but he wanted to get on with this and so he decided to lay everything out on the table. 'In two months the world and everything living on it will be destroyed. There is only one way to stop this from happening. I have one key, you have the other.' In a calm, slow voice, he explained everything that they knew about the solar flares, and about the Shard, and how Eye Abstergo might be used to save the planet. He stepped up to the computer and transmitted the Animus logs that Clay had found: the warnings from Those Who Came Before and the visions of the First Civilisation.

Rikkin didn't speak, save for the occasional question to prompt Desmond along. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully when the story was finished, but didn't speak. Desmond shifted from one foot the the other impatiently, wondering if there was something that he had left out.

'I've sent you the evidence. If you look it over...'

'I've no doubt it will back up your story. You wouldn't take a risk like this or make an offer like the one you have if you didn't have hard proof. We already had pieces of this information, anyway, though we weren't aware that it was as ... serious as this.'

'So?' Desmond felt like his entire body was clenched up into a tight ball of nerves.

Rikkin looked directly into his camera's lens and said, 'I accept your offer.'

Desmond released a slow breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father drop his head and shake it in despair.

'With a couple of minor amendments, of course,' Rikkin added.

'What?' Desmond demanded, his anger and fear returning. 'What the hell are you talking about? I just told you that every person on this planet is going to die if you don't...'

'Not every person. We are in control of a large number of underground bunkers, enough facilities globally to shelter most if not all of the Templar order and their families. More than enough to sustain and rebuild human life. In fact, a population of around a million or two would be far easier to manage than the seven billion we're trying to cope with right now.'

Desmond gritted his teeth. 'You're bluffing. You can't be that cold.'

'Yes, he can,' Bill cut in from the sidelines, in a bitterly triumphant tone. 'I tried to tell you, Desmond. They're monsters. They don't care about human life.'

'Won't you even hear me out?' Rikkin asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow patronisingly.

'Fine, what else do you want, goddamnit?' Desmond snapped.

'Not much. You can release Daniel back to us, for a start.'

Daniel looked up, surprise written clearly all over his face. He'd obviously assumed that Rikkin no longer cared if he lived or died. Desmond stared at Daniel for a moment and realised that in some sick, twisted way, he actually cared too. He had spared the man's life so many times now that he was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to kill him. After all, what would be the point of that mercy if things ended with Daniel dying at Desmond's hand anyway? He tried to shake the thought free and looked back up at Rikkin.

'Alright, I'll think about that one.' He held out a hand to placate Bill, who had opened his mouth in disbelief and anger. 'What else?'

'Well now,' Rikkin appeared to be in a much more agreeable mood now that he had the upper hand in the proceedings. 'Making all those adjustments and sending that satellite up is going to cost us a great deal, and so far you've offered me no real incentive other than altruism. So let's throw in the Apple of Eden as well.'

'What?'

'No.' Bill took several steps towards the computer. 'He's wasting our time. I'm ending this.'

'Well, is that William Miles I see?' Rikkin jeered softly. 'Are you really so quick to condemn the world to burn, William?'

'I'd rather watch it burn than let you get your hands on it!' Bill snarled back.

A brief, choking silence fell over the gathered Assassins at those words. Rebecca's eyes widened and she gaped at Bill as if uncertain what she had just heard. Desmond, too, stared at his father and found him unrecognisable for a few brief seconds: he was insane with anger, his face twisted in hatred as he glared at the man on the screen. Desmond had never particularly liked his father, but he had never feared him as much as he did right then.

'Jesus, Dad,' he said, for lack of anything else to say.

Bill hesitated and looked back at his son, and his face softened for a moment as he visibly reined his emotions back in. Swallowing hard, he turned back to the screen. 'Is that your final offer, Rikkin?' he asked hoarsely. 'You won't consider taking just the Shard?'

'How about just the Shard and Daniel?' Desmond haggled desperately.

Rikkin shook his head, almost pityingly. 'You have my offer. I suggest you take it. You don't have much choice, after all.'

'You're wrong,' Bill replied, walking over to his desk, opening a drawer, and discreetly pulling something out of it before walking back into the web camera's view.

Desmond didn't see the gun until Bill already had it pressed against Daniel's head. The helpless Templar screwed his eyes tightly shut as he braced himself for the shot.

'Consider this our rejection of your offer,' Bill stated coldly.

'No!'

Desmond had started moving before Bill even finished speaking, or Daniel's shining career as a Master Templar and mass murderer might have ended right there, with his brains splattered over the walls and floor of a dirty, broken-down house in his home country. As it was, Desmond slammed a hand upwards into his father's arm and Bill cried out in pain as the bullet thudded into the ceiling, causing a small shower of plaster.

'Rebecca, cut the fucking call!' Desmond yelled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off his father. Their faces were mere inches apart and each could see the other's expression very clearly: the old resentments and friction crystallised into this moment. Desmond did not ask his father to hand over the gun. He simply tightened his fingers over Bill's wrist until his fingers went limp and Desmond could pull the firearm away harmlessly.

'Connection's been cut,' Rebecca told him, her voice shaking a little.

'Good.' Desmond released his father and fumbled with the gun a little as he tried to figure out how to release the magazine. He had never received arms training when he was growing up, since firing guns in the Black Hills was a bad habit when you were trying to lay low, and so the pistol was fairly alien to him. He eventually found the correct mechanism and the case of bullets slid harmlessly out of the weapon. He pocketed them and tossed the gun aside distastefully. 'Alright,' he said, the words sticky in his dry mouth. 'Can we please make an agreement that we'll at least talk it over as a group before we start shooting people?'

'I'll second that,' Shaun said quickly. He looked slightly green, as though the sound of the gunshot had caused him to experience unpleasant flashbacks.

'Why do you keep defending him?' Bill demanded, pointing a finger at Daniel like some figure on an Old Testament painting.

'Gotta say, I'm kind of curious to know as well,' Daniel muttered, keeping his head bent but glancing up at Desmond through his eyelashes.

'We're Assassins,' Desmond said stubbornly, feeling his face heat up in a mixture of shame and defiance. 'As far as I'm concerned, shooting someone who's helpless and tied to a chair isn't an assassination, it's murder.'

'If you'd seen what I'd seen, you might reconsider,' Bill said, his voice quiet now. 'If you'd seen the bodies after Cross had finished with them, you wouldn't be so quick to defend him. If you had known the people he killed...' He looked up. 'Actually, you did. Didn't you ever wonder what happened to the Farm, Desmond? Do you know where they are, the kids that you grew up with?'

Desmond wavered, suddenly shaken by the implication of the words. 'It doesn't matter...'

'It was razed to the ground,' Bill pressed on in the same deadened tone. 'Your mother and I got out, so did about half a dozen others. That was my first real encounter with Cross after he left us. He lined them up - the unlucky ones, the ones who didn't escape. We were watching from the treeline, trying to figure out a way to rescue them. Cross told us to to surrender, and when we didn't show ourselves he had them shot. Men and women, some of them not yet out of their teens, Desmond. You remember Tom?'

Desmond did. Jesus, he remembered now. He'd always sparred with Tom, because they were about the same build despite the fact that Tom was a couple of years younger. He'd resented the other kid at first, but Tom had a habit of cracking so many stupid jokes as they fought that Desmond had warmed to him. They'd drifted apart, later, when Tom had bought into the Assassin's belief system and Desmond had rejected it, but they'd always remained friendly...

'He was the last of them, and he cried out for his mother. She was with us, and she saw her son die. We had to drag her away from there.' Bill's lip curled as he looked over Daniel, who met his gaze without flinching, his expression unreadable. 'So you carry your bleeding heart for Cross. But don't you dare judge me for wanting him dead.'

'Um, sorry to break up this precious family moment,' Shaun said, walking over to them whilst maintaining his distance from Daniel. 'But we need to figure out a Plan B now that the Templar thing has fallen through.' He looked worriedly at Desmond. 'It has fallen through, right?'

'Of course it has,' Bill replied before Desmond had a chance to speak. 'If we give them the Apple and they launch that satellite, they'll have control of every human mind on the entire planet. We can't allow that.'

'He's right,' Desmond said heavily. 'We can't agree to their demands. We're going to have to...' His voice trailed away as he teetered on the brink of surrender.

'What, Desmond?' Rebecca asked softly, joining them in the centre of the room. 'What do we have to do?'

Desmond closed his eyes and released a slow, pained breath. 'There's another temple,' he said. 'A Grand Temple. Juno showed it to me. She said that it's the key to saving the world.'

'Where is it?' Bill asked brusquely.

'New York.'

'Then that's where we're headed.'

And in the back of the room, Clay Kaczmarek finally raised his head and stared, his fingers gripping tightly onto the edge of the table. He did not speak, as he had not spoken throughout all of this, and he suspected that the others had forgotten he was here. But he could see, and he could hear, and he could feel despair.

8th August 2012

This is the end.

He makes the final adjustments to the AI program and hides it away where only one person will ever be able to find it, filled with an expanding sense of relief.

The messages are in place. He is a little worried now that they might not be as clear to Desmond Miles as they seemed when he was writing them.

But under the circumstances, they were the best he could do.

He is inside the machine. This is his home now and it will deliver him to wherever he is going.

He turns, in this strange white space, and finds himself faced with one of them. The Ones Who Came Before. It is not Juno, but it doesn't matter. She is his guardian angel now: here to guide him into the arms of death. He smiles wearily at her.

She says, 'You cannot leave yet.'

The smile slides off his face like mud. 'No,' he whines. 'I've done my part...'

'You have been tricked. You were nothing but a puppet. If you die now, you will die having made the world a worser place.'

'No!' Denial is all he has left. 'I fixed things. I left the message...'

'You left the wrong message.'

It is almost too late for any of this to make a difference. He flickers, fading, and she sees it. She explains to him about her sad, mad, lost sister, who attempted to enslave humanity and will attempt to do so again. She explains about the cage that was constructed and bound irrevocably with the shield device, so that the planet cannot be saved without simultaneously being damned. She explains that he has broken himself upon the altar of the Animus for nothing. He has walked a thousand miles down the wrong path.

He falls to his knees and protests. 'It's not my job to save them. I'm not your chosen one. I'm not special. Juno told me...'

Minerva regards him, and for a brief moment he spies sympathy in her face, and even fondness. She kneels down in front of him and cups his cheek, lifting his head even as the rest of his threatens to fall.

'You,' she breathes, and her hand is chilly and barely there. 'You are remarkable.'