Chapter Five: Splinters

Allison Rogue felt trouble brewing beneath her fragile mind. She had been carried into the realm of sleep on wings of peace only to be enveloped by a nightmare. In these dreams she was no longer who she thought she was. Here in the land of illusion she was Subject 27. Faces that were not faces surrounded her, the masks warn by Combine soldiers and scientists as they put her through her paces. Always there was pain. She couldn't speak, for the Combine had not seen fit to teach her language. She could only cry out for mercy as they strapped into the machine that would take her back.

Back - back to the jungles of Vietnam. She'd been there before and, in fact, she knew the reason the United States had such a well-defined interest in Vietnam for she was there when they discussed it.

"We need something from you Lieutenant," a man in a dark suit said blowing smoke, "A specific item of archeological interest that may just end the energy crisis, not to mention what it could do for weapons technology."

"What am I looking at?" Allison heard her past self ask while looking down at an aerial photo of a temple and a rough sketch of a spherical object emitting beams of light.

"The VC know damn well what they have there, our sources suggest they have an in with a very powerful Order and the area around the Temple is well guarded," the government man said taking another puff of his cigarette, "We need you and your men to get in, get the sphere and get the hell out. You will, of course, be handsomely rewarded if you succeed."

"And if I fail?"

"I wouldn't recommend that," the g-man replied coldly.

Allison felt herself catapulted across the chronological chasm. Splintered memories seemed to weave themselves together forming a chain of pain, angst, and heartache spanning thousands of years. Yes thousands. Dozens of individuals DNA had gone to create her and she had been forced to explore their memories going as deep as several millennia. She remembered the Animus they had her in, designed to speed read through genetic memory that tore her already abused mind to bits. She had done much to piece some semblance of a life together out of the fragments the Combine had left. Now this dream threatened to tear them apart.

"Rise and shine Subject 27," she heard the voice as clear as day but when she opened her eyes she found the room dark and peaceful. She turned to Julian who lay beside her noting that he was waking up and couldn't have been the source of the voice. Images still raced across her nuerons. Memories lashed out from the distant past.

"Are you alright?" she heard Julian ask but the man sounded a thousand miles away. He reached for her to comfort her but in her panicked state she reacted with violence hitting and punching. She couldn't believe the force with which she was hitting him, she stopped herself using every bit of will power to run. She left the building and shot out into the night with legs pumping praying Julian wasn't behind her. Shame cascaded through her mind flooding it with guilt. She was losing control again, the memories were taking over. Despite her mind now being awake the phantoms that had haunted her dreams return. One of them a glowing female figure standing tall and firm with authority in her voice speaking to her as if she were a child to be chastised.

"You're kind were always so selfish," the woman's voice boomed, "We tried to help you, tried to undo the chains of bondage the others would have put you in. In turn you betrayed us too."

The darkness of the night enveloped her as she ran on with no thought of where she was going or why. Rain was beginning to fall and her feet had left the solid ground of Hunter's Fall and now splashed along on grass and leaves in the underbrush of the mountains. She was climbing, her mind a tangled mess, her hands covered in splinters and blisters as the hours lagged on. The thunder clapped and the rain fell to cleanse her soul. She stood in the forest with her arms outstretched to the sky begging for her madness to end whether my death or miracle. When neither came she collapsed to the forest floor and fell from consciousness as the shadows of the past devoured her present self.

Shephard desperately tried to catch up to the quick-footed assassin but although his free running skills had improved he was still a far cry from Desmond's level. The expert assassin breezed from rooftop to rooftop despite being considerably older than Shephard. The General was hardly surprised that the Old Man had it in him. Desmond seemed on the verge of a comeback although Shephard now understood this little miracle was mostly staged. Desmond had played the sick old man role to perfection and, although actually being sick for a time, had been getting progressively better from day one. Now Shephard was sure that if Desmond were side by side with his son in their assassin's robes he would be unable to tell the two apart.

Desmond turned to look over his shoulder at the slowpoke he'd left in the dust. He stopped atop a balcony ledge of an old apartment building and waited for the tired old General to find his way up. Desmond laughed and guffawed as Shephard slowly found his way up to him using a very slow hand-hand foot-foot climbing technique. When at last Shephard was sitting beside him Desmond let the man catch his breath for a moment before saying anything.

"Faster than I'd thought you'd be," Desmond said taking a swig from a canteen of water he had hanging from his belt, "But still too damn slow to call yourself an assassin."

"I don't see why the Order needs me with you around," Shephard said taking a drink from the canteen and passing it back, "I'm not even of an assassin bloodline."

"Bloodlines," Desmond said with a dismissive expression, "That sort of bullshit might have gone for protocol before the Combine but now we need every assassin we can get. Even slow old pudgy badly dressed bastards such as yourself. Speaking of which what are you wearing to the party? It's a costume party you know."

"Nothing," Shephard said, "I thought we discussed this, the party is a Templar trap!"

"Nothing eh?" Desmond joked, "Brave man."

"You're not seriously thinking about going to this party are you?" Shephard asked, "They're planning to kill you!"

"Race you down," Desmond offered before immediately getting himself a head start.

Shephard shook is head in disbelief and started down after him.

Julian took several calming breaths to center himself. His feet moved over the mountainous terrain with graceful ease. His breath escaped catching light in the chilly but humid morning air as dawn arrived. He'd been on Allison's trail for hours but her path had been a difficult one to follow. The storm had been heavy washing away most of the clues that the assassin could have followed. He had struggled with worry in those early hours trying to keep his mind focused on finding her instead of wrapped in a thousand worthless splinters of worry. Now he was entirely of one mind.

The young assassin saw something in a clearing ahead. Someone was huddled on the ground, he recognized the clothing as Allison's. Someone stood above her. Julian couldn't see who it was but he appeared to be holding a brief case. A flash of recognition entered his mind but just as he reached the clearing the figure passed behind a tree. The assassin arrived, his sharp eyes darted to and fro but the mysterious man in the blue suit was nowhere to be found. He had more important things to worry about anyway.

Julian knelt down beside her and checked her pulse. She was alive but her flesh felt so cold. He tried to rouse her but she didn't respond. He rolled her onto her back and whispered into her ear hoping that she wouldn't respond violently as she had before. She didn't attack. She didn't respond at all. The assassin shook her a bit more insistently. Her lips began moving and Julian thought for a moment that she was stirring but he soon realized this action wasn't a conscious one. He tried to pry up her eyelids but they were shut tight and her eyes beneath them danced frantically as if she was caught in a dream.

"Don't worry," Julian said as much to himself as to Allison, "Everything will be alright."

The fetid Vietnamese jungle seemed to envelop the twelve man squad and their leader as they trudged through the muck on the way to their target. Lieutenant Morgan Eisley knew what they were getting themselves into, in the back of his mind he had a feeling they were being heavily fucked over by the military brass who set this mission up. The war was dreadfully unpopular and according to the men in black it was coming to an end mighty soon. The sooner the better as far as the Lieutenant was concerned.

"Hey Lieutenant," one of the fire-team leaders called, "Why in the hell are we here?"

"You ain't never been to Sunday school corporal?" one of the grunts joked, "We're here to be God's playthings. God spit in some dirt and that's how we got here."

"No," the corporal complained, "I mean why the hell are we in this goddamn jungle?"

"We're looking for something," the Lieutenant replied.

"What?"

"A Piece of Eden."

Julian sat at Allison's bedside watching the nurses work on her. Out in the field he had something to strive for, something to keep his mind from the all encompassing worry that came with caring this deeply about someone. Now there was nothing standing as a barrier to his paranoia. To make matters worse each test performed seemed only to confirm that something was wrong with Allison Rogue. Eventually his pacing and panic got him banned from the medical room and he was left waiting outside where he had all the room to pace. He felt so empty inside. He had been trained to kill, trained to take life, but when a life counted on his intervention to be saved he had little ability to do anything. For all his talents he had no way to help Allison now.

Finally Theta came out of the medical room. Julian, being an assassin, could read nearly anyone's body language and expression but Theta was giving off mixed signals as she walked into the room. He sat down in order to fully brace himself for any good or bad news that might be given and he tried his best to look relaxed.

"You're a wreck," Theta remarked.

"How is she?"

"Stable," Theta replied vaguely, "I've seen the brainwave pattern before and if I didn't know any better I'd say that she's dreaming."

"Can you wake her up?" Julian asked with a hopeful expression.

"This is not an ordinary dream," Theta said, "The only place I've seen this brainwave pattern is in test subjects recovered from the Combine. When I was found I was in a dream-state similar to this. I think its best to let it run its course... there's something else."

"What?"

"Well we did some tests to see if there was any internal or organ damage and found something weird... we ran some more tests... She appears to be, pregnant."

Julian was unable to react. Emotions of every kind crashed against each other like waves. On the one hand he was happy that she was pregnant but on the other he was worried for her even more now. Could her pregnancy have brought this all on her? The assassin retired to his room and lay on the bed. He'd been searching all night for her with at least half of that in pouring rain. He hoped that a few hours sleep would calm the swelling sea of thoughts within his head.

Desmond walked amongst the crowd dressed in full assassin armor of the sort that would have been worn by his assassin ancestors. He further concealed his identity by remaining hooded and wearing a cloth over his mouth. Few if any turned to look as he slipped amongst the party-goers who danced and sang in the streets. The City was truly thankful to have a true holiday and even those who were not happy with how Desmond was running things were glad to celebrate regardless. Many others he saw had dressed up in assassin robes, some to show their loyalty to the Order but most merely to mock what they saw as an old tired worn out power structure. Desmond "Moses" Miles had been part of the Resistance for decades yet many believed they stood no closer to defeating the Combine today, more than twenty years later.

The Elder Assassin turned to see Shephard close behind him. The man was wearing his own assassin robes which Desmond had hoped the man would wear to be initiated into the Assassin Order in a few weeks time. Shephard had complained about the gift and Desmond had to agree that the man had a hard time pulling the traditional robes off. The two of them moved along the streets stopping at venues and stands. Everyone who could conjure up a few trinkets or throw together something semi-edible was out selling their wares and Shephard had joked that the number of people selling was likely higher than the number of potential customers.

The two of them approached the main stage of the evening's festivities. The area was once a football stadium where some college or school held their sporting events but now it was a coliseum of a different kind. The stage was decked out with lights and the entire stadium was filled with the finest food imaginable being offered by Baron Brown and his associates for free. Desmond grabbed a fresh apple and took a bite. Perhaps there were some perks to a post industrial world, everything was natural and wholesome again. A second look at the apples shook him to his senses when he saw that a good percentage of them were rotten. Without modern pesticides and irrigation good crops were hard to come by.

"About time you get here," Hassan remarked meeting the two of them beside the stage, "The Templars have been delivering the speeches. It's as if they don't expect you to attend."

"Have any of them said they want to kill me?" Desmond joked.

"Not yet but you're just in time for a speech from Emil Nemico himself."

"Friends, fellow citizens of City 12, let us reason together on this night of celebration," Emil Nemico started with a shimmer in his brown eyes, "Let us make this a time of collaboration. We can no longer trust the assassins to guide us. Tonight we celebrate Desmond Miles who, although he has helped us in bad times, is unreliable. Not to mention his son! Oh his son! The boy who would be king. Instead of stepping in for his Father Julian Miles spent his days in the bed of his woman cowering behind his love for her. When he should have been leading a charge against the Combine he was out fighting on his own, risking his life for his own selfish reasons not on our behalf. He was not fighting beside us, he was fighting against us and for himself and the Assassin Order. We cannot accept the rule of the Assassins anymore-"

"Excuse me young man," Desmond shouted, though his face was cloaked enough to disguise his identity, "But I am one of the assassins you are speaking of."

"Look ladies and gentlemen," Emil prodded the crowd, "A real assassin has something to say. Shall we let him speak?"

The crowd lit up with boos and jeers that sent a shiver down Desmond's spine but the wily old man had not yet had his fun.

"Fair enough," Desmond announced turning to the crowd, "They do not want my words. Let our fists do the talking then. Let us decide this in a fight!"

The crowd erupted in support and Emil Nemico, fully invested in the crowd, grew a grin as wide as could be.

"Very well assassin," the Templar chided, "Let us see what your Order has to offer."

Desmond stepped out onto the stage further watching as the young strong Templar got himself into a fighting stance. Desmond had been in a great many fights in his time as an assassin, he'd put down many a Combine soldier and plenty of Templars in his time. He sensed there was something different about this one. He realized how right he was when the first few punches the boy tried to deliver turned into an attempted foot sweep. Desmond was ready for it, of course, but seeking drama the assassin pretended to fall for it and crashed to the planks of the wooden stage below. The crowd erupted into a mix of sound, mostly cheers for the Templar champion. Desmond began to fight the man from the ground keeping him at bay with a series of kicks.

The elder assassin sprung up now and dashed in with several harmless quick jabs designed to taunt the Templar more than anything. It worked as the Templar moved in and began to throw heavier slower punches. Desmond avoided them moving with the flow of his enemy to get out of the way of each attack with ease. His quickness of evasion was winning the crowd, they began to laugh as Emil, in frustration, began overexerting his punches and kicks. Desmond felt a sudden burst of pain as one of the kicks landed in the chest reminding him that this wasn't all just a game. He barely lost his balance as several more kicks and punches came at him.

Desmond struck back now waiting for his moment and grabbing the Templar's arm twisting it until he had the man. He knocked the Templar to the ground and put his knee on his enemy's throat and lifted his arms to the sky. The crowd roared and this time many of them were applauding him instead of Nemico. He let the man up who, despite casting him an angry glare, didn't seem as if he was about to try anything serious with everyone watching.

"I suppose the assassins still have some useful tricks," he admitted to the quieting crowd, "Tell me assassin, what is your name?"

"Desmond Miles."

Julian's dreams were more disturbing than his reality. Visions passed through his mind of him bathing in the blood of a thousand Combine soldiers. He cut them to shreds, he bled them dry and he offered no mercy for anyone who pledged allegiance to the Empire that suffocated his world. It was this Empire that had created Allison, that had birthed a life merely to use it in their sickening experiments. They had created a human being and left her fractured and afraid. Michael Cameron had done all he could to help her and Julian had picked up where he had left off. Now it was all undone... and the Combine would pay.

Revenge coursed like adrenaline in his veins as he slit the throat of a Combine Elite and watched the crimson blood stain the soldier's white armor. More Combine came, this time showing their true faces. Tentacles came toward him trying with every bit of their will to utilize their strange powers, to hold him in their psychic grip. But within the dream he was a god, invincible when enveloped by dark vengeance that dwelled within him. To punish those who had taken Allison, who had taken Theta, who had taken his Mother - those who had destroyed the world.

Amidst all this bloodshed was a shining light. Amongst a battlefield covered in corpses and organs, of enemies laid to waist by the assassin's righteous blade, was a pulse. Beating effortlessly like a biological machine this heartbeat came to consume him. It was a bright light so beautiful that his first inclination was to flee, to escape, to shirk responsibility once more. The old Julian would have done that, the one that would have bathed in the blood of his enemies. But what did killing faceless Combine soldiers accomplish? Revenge would not make him invincible and would not set right the wrongs of the world. Revenge would not protect the innocent life now within Allison.

A shadow was over that life. Julian could feel it in his bones as he floated in the endless dreamscape that surrounded him. A shadow as ancient as time itself and as dark as the endless void of space that now swallowed him. He fell toward that light, that pulsating truth, that new life, and felt peace cover him.

Desmond stood amongst the crowd feeling for the first time as if he was truly well again. His theatrics on stage had earned him the support of many. Their doubts had not been as deep seated as Nemico and his Templar brethren had hoped. The elder assassin shook hands with his fellow citizens and tried to explain the them why the Resistance was making such slow progress. All the world was dying, he understood their impatience, but things could not get better all at once.

"Drink sir?" a young man asked and Desmond bought one from the lad who than asked for his autograph, "Its a real honor sir."

Soon enough it was time for the final words of the evening. All eyes turned to the stage as the eccentric Baron Brown entered surrounded by a parade of scantily clad women with outfits that were actually on fire. The Templars emerged too with Vidic leading them and Vera dressed all in black her beauty only overshadowed by her true nature.

"Be careful," Shephard warned as Desmond walked toward the stage, "Now would be the time they try something."

Desmond knew all too well the deceptive nature of the Templars, he kept his eyes and ears open as Vera offered an introduction to him and bid him to approach the microphone.

"Citizens of City 12," Desmond began, "I know that you are angry. I know that you are tired. I have listened to your cries for two decades and they do not fall on deaf ears. Let it be made clear that we are closer to victory than we ever have been. I don't care if the Assassin Order remains in power, I don't want to see us ripped apart by factions, whether they be religious or political or whatever. We only stand a chance against the Combine united. Many of you want action, want blood. We cannot win the war if we do not choose our battles wisely. Revenge is not the answer we are seeking. We must mature as a species if we are to take back our world. And we will take it back. TOGETHER! I propose a toast... to humanity, to the Resistance, to victory."

"To Desmond!" Vera shouted watching as he finished his drink.

Desmond walked along the streets with Shephard and felt truly satisfied with the way everything was going. His hope for humanity had once been reduced to smoldering ash but now burned with the intensity of the sun. He laughed aloud when he considered the glum attitude that everyone always seemed to have. At last he reached Baron Brown's apartment complex where his suite was located.

"I told you not to worry friend," Desmond said slapping Shephard on the back, "The Templars may want me gone but they are not brave enough to do anything about it... not yet at least. The people are still on our side."

"Perhaps you're right," Shephard admitted with a hopeful grin, "Now get some rest, you look exhausted."

"Drunk," Desmond corrected, "The term is drunk."

"How is she?" Alyx asked entering the room to see Theta still standing at Allison's bedside.

"Better," Theta said, "But still not out of it. Her brainwaves are slowing, her dreams are lessening but she's still all over the place."

"I can't imagine what it's like to be her," Alyx said, "Julian told me she's like a chimera, the Combine just tossed in all sorts of DNA."

"We're all sort of like that," Theta said, "Considering how long a string of ancestors we all have. I mean if you go back far enough you get into non-human entities, before we were humans."

"Science isn't my forte," Alyx admitted, "I'm more of a point and shoot kinda girl."

"Look Alyx, about last night-"

"It's okay," Alyx said biting her lip, "I kinda panicked unnecessarily. I didn't mean to just run out on you. Its just I've never really put much thought into being with a woman. Hell I've never put much thought into being with anyone, male or female. Sex just seems so selfish when the world is shit around you."

"I feel the same way," Theta agreed turning to look into her eyes, "But being selfless can get old too. I spend all my time here catering to others, helping others, doing my duty, I just thought that this once I could-"

Theta felt Alyx's lips against her own and felt herself melt into a puddle of the bliss. She pulled away though as alarm bells started singing and Allison began writhing. Theta set aside herself once more and rushed to the monitors to assess the situation. Everything calmed suddenly as Allison's eyes opened and she looked into Theta's pale gray orbs.

"I feel like shit," Allison remarked looking around at the room and trying to gain her bearings.

"Get Julian," Theta said, "Tell him she's awake."

Julian rushed into the room and kissed Allison. He sat beside her kissing her repeatedly on the forehead and fighting back tears as Theta explained that she had only now come out of her extended dream state.

"She's a bit disoriented," Theta explained, "But I don't think there's any permanent damage, we won't know for sure of course."

"And the baby?" Julian asked kissing Allison's hand.

"Baby?" Allison asked wide-eyed, "What baby?"

"Perfectly fine," Theta responded.

"Baby?" Allison echoed and Julian turned to her with a nod, "I'm not still dreaming am I?"

"Speaking of which, where did you go?"

"Not wear," Allison corrected, "When. It was so strange, it was like being in the Animus without needing the Animus."

"I'm just glad you're back," Julian said kissing her again, "Now get some rest."

"I just spent nearly twenty-four hours dreaming Julian," she replied getting out of bed, "I couldn't sleep if I wanted to."

Desmond lay down on his bed and put his hands behind his head. He felt light as a feather although he knew that by morning he would likely feel like a ton of bricks had hit his head. He felt as if the room was spinning as he tossed and turned chasing sleep with an overly excited mind. Something was wrong. Something was off.

He sat up and tried to shake off the weird feeling. He felt dizzy as he stood and he soon collapsed back onto the bed. Something was definitely wrong. He hadn't been that drunk. He sat up once more but soon enough his muscles went limp and down he fell to the bed. Numbness was invading his muscles, every nerve ending in his body seemed unresponsive. The elder assassin's mind was growing dark, he could feel the insidious poison take its toll but he could not scream for help. He felt entombed in his own body as he lay there helpless. NOT NOW! His mind screamed out. THIS ISN'T FAIR! His work was not yet complete, the human race was not yet free.

It was too late. Darkness descended bringing with it eternal sleep. Desmond Miles was dead.