A/N: I know what you're thinking, "Holy Shit! Four months later he finally remembers this story." or possibly you're thinking nothing because you gave up on me. I certainly understand that, but on the off chance that you're still here, still reading then rest assured that I'm almost halfway through the next chapter so there shouldn't be any more months long waits between chapters.
About a week ago I sat down and wrote out a full summary of the remainder of the plot of this story and where I was once thinking this story to be six to seven chapters it's now looking to be 12-15. I'm hoping to have it down in time for the release of Assassin's Creed III on Oct 30th, mostly because once it comes out I'm going to be very, very busy not writing.
Thanks for reading and I hope anyone who is still with me is still enjoying.
Chapter 7
Contacts and Conflicts Part 2
2:40 pm EST, May 23rd
Santana was sitting alone in her room, or rather the room in Abe's hideout that she was using for the time being. They had walked past half a dozen similar rooms that had likely once been offices back when this had been a NSA base had been converted into small sleeping quarters with twin sized beds and a small footlocker in each. Santana's had a cabinet in it as well which Santana hadn't bothered looking into yet.
It had been twenty minutes since she had left Brittany in the room across the hall and she couldn't really let herself relax. She was bound and determined to give the girl some space now that she actually had the chance. She knew Abe's place was a fortress, at least a hundred feet underground with all of Abe's crazy security measures, they were as safe as they would ever be, she knew that. Yet, still she couldn't relax.
Brittany suddenly walked into the room without knocking and settled onto the bed next to Santana leaving less than two inches of space between them. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock?" Santana asked with a smile bumping her shoulder against Brittany's.
"Of course they did," Brittany said, "but I just figured, what part of you was I going to see that I haven't already had my mouth on?"
"My feet?" Santana said, "I don't recall you going mouth to foot."
"Yeah, that's just gross to me," Brittany said, "I'm sorry if you're into that or whatever..."
"I'm not," Santana replied.
"Good," Brittany said, "Because feet can be cute but not sexy, not to me at least."
They fell silent for a moment before Santana spoke again. "I was trying to give you some space," she said, "y'know, so you can process everything."
Brittany scoffed, "I can't begin to process this, Santana, Legions of Evil and noble killers and secret societies, least of that I'm somehow some important piece of someone's plans. I appreciate you thinking of me but I don't want space. I know you said we're safe here but I don't feel safe without you. So if you don't mind..."
"No, of course," Santana said, "Although if we do end up sleeping here tonight, then I say we drag another bed in here next to this one. As much as I love being close to you, two grown ass adults in one twin sized bed just isn't comfortable."
"Agreed," Brittany said, "But I'm not tired now."
"No, me either," Santana said.
"Didn't we come in here looking for food? There's got to be food down here somewhere, right?" Brittany asked, "I mean, I doubt Abe has pizza delivered to his secret base."
Santana smiled. It was the first time in three days that Brittany had expressed any interest in food without being prompted. "Yeah, I'm sure he's got something to eat."
Opting to leave Abe to his work, they went in search of food by themselves. They found a lot more furnished living quarters. Abe seemingly was set up to house as many as a hundred people if needs be. Santana had no clue as to why he was ever this prepared or even how he managed to set up so many beds in his pseudo-Batcave. The long hallway that served as the barracks eventually made a right turn. Down that hall they found the laundry, the showers, and eventually a fully stocked, wheelchair accessible kitchen.
"What on Earth?" Santana said to herself.
"I know, right?" Brittany said, "For a guy that lives alone, Abe sure has a lot of stuff." Brittany started looking through the cabinets finding pots and pans and trays and dishes, everything one would need to feed a family or even several families. Eventually she found the dry storage and found it packed full of every type of non-perishable food item imaginable. The refrigerator was likewise stocked.
"So what do you want to eat?" Santana asked, "It looks like we have our choice of pretty much anything."
"Oh no," Brittany said, "I'm cooking."
"I can cook," Santana insisted.
"So can I," Brittany replied, "and you already do everything else."
"I don't mind."
Brittany sighed, "Santana, look at it like this, you keep us alive in the 'people want to kill us' sense, let me keep us alive in the 'people have to eat to stay alive' sense. Please? I feel like I contribute nothing."
Santana smiled and said, "If you're sure."
"I am," Brittany said, "Now what do you want to eat?"
"You pick," Santana said, "I'm good for whatever, but speaking of needing to eat to stay alive, when Abe gets into his hacking mode, he sometimes forgets that. So whatever you choose make enough for our host as well would you?"
"Totally." Brittany started rooting around through the cabinet looking at what all there was to work with. Santana took a seat at one of the counters and watched her go. "Oooh, penne," Brittany said to herself. She turned to look back at Santana and said, "Is pasta okay?"
"As long as it doesn't have a really heavy sauce," Santana replied. Brittany just nodded quickly pulling out a box of uncooked penne pasta followed quickly by a bottle of olive oil. From another cabinet she retrieved garlic and basil and then three types of cheese, a box of grape tomatoes, and a package of chicken tenderloins found their way from the fridge to the counter.
Before long Brittany had the penne boiling in a pot and she was humming, singing to herself, and dancing (like an elaborate, choreographed dance that she would do at the dance studio) as she seasoned and cooked the chicken. Santana smiled and watched her work. "Got me hoping you'll page me right now, your kiss. Got me hoping you'll save me right now. Looking so crazy in love's got me looking. Got me looking so crazy in love." Brittany glanced up at Santana and smiled with just a hint of embarrassment. "Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no," she sang as she spun around in a circle.
"Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no," Santana sang back rocking her hips back and forth in her seat. Considering her life's work, music had never been a huge priority but she damn well knew Beyonce.
"Sorry," Brittany said with a huge grin on her face, "Music was always a huge part of cooking at my house, and well, I'm a dancer so singing and dancing go together in my head, so I kind of just sing and dance whenever I cook."
"You never have to apologize for being yourself, Brit, especially not when you're being that adorable," Santana said.
X
3:30 pm EST, May 23rd
"It's got to do with something called The Bleed Effect," Abe said over his shoulder as her scrolled through things and clicked on other things.
"I'm sorry?" Brittany asked.
"Oh, sorry," he said turning his chair to look at her, "Thought you were Santana. This is usually about the time she'd start bothering me for answers. What brings you up here?"
"I made food," she said holding the plate forward, "Santana said you sometimes forget to eat when you're working hard, so I brought you some so you can keep yourself energized and keep your big brain running smoothly."
"Thanks," he said gratefully as Brittany settled the plate down next to his computer.
"Oh, it's no problem," Brittany said, "I mean it's your food after all."
"But you cooked it and it looks delicious," he said, "so thanks."
"You're welcome," Brittany said. She was silent for a moment before saying, "So 'The Bleed Effect'?"
"That's all I know," he said, "Just the name. I assume it's just a euphemism. You said they didn't take any blood from you?"
"Nope," Brittany confirmed.
"It says here, 'Morningstar will be an effort to maximize the potential of the effect described as The Bleed in the case studies of Project: Animus. If fully realized, this could clear a path for future plans at greatly lessened expenditure of human resources.' I'm still trying to dig up records on Project: Animus and I'm still data mining for Morningstar or your name," he said turning back to his computer, "Don't worry, I'll figure this out."
"Okay," Brittany said with a smile, "but you gotta eat."
"Right," he said, "Eat." He scooped himself a mouthful, hummed in delight, and returned to his computer.
He typed away for a few minutes, eating as he did, before Santana stormed into the room. "Alright, Abe, tell me what the fuck you know," she said. He turned in his chair to look at her chewing his food in an exaggerated and deliberate manner. She just rolled her eyes at him.
"There's something called The Bleed Effect," Brittany said, "We don't know what it is or what it does, but he's still looking into it. Now leave him alone and let him work. Come on, you probably want to exercise, right? You didn't get in this good a shape sitting around all day like we did yesterday." Santana just stared at her like she was ruining her day, but Brittany knew that couldn't be true because she was offering to get all sweaty in Santana's vicinity and she knew Santana would like that. "Come on," she said walking over to her and taking Santana by the hand. Santana's face softened immediately. She wasn't smiling just yet but she wasn't far off from one.
"You're lucky I like you," Santana said to Brittany before turning back to Abe and saying, "And you, you figure out what the hell is going on and I might admit to liking you, too."
"I'm not holding my breath," Abe said as Brittany dragged them out of the room.
X
"Teach me to fight," Brittany said. It wasn't a question. Due to a lack any other sort of workout equipment they'd been running through a calisthenics routine for about twenty minutes. They were both feeling good and loose and Santana had just been about to suggest they run laps around the dojo.
"No," Santana said firmly, "I'll do all the fighting you need."
"Santana," she said in a pleading tone.
"Didn't we have the division of labor discussion back in the kitchen?" Santana countered, "I keep people from killing us, you keep us fed? I'm pretty sure that was what we determined."
"What if you're busy trying to stop someone from killing us and someone else shows up trying to kill us?"
Santana sighed and dropped her head. "First of all," she said looking back up, "I'm completely capable of fighting more than one person at a time. I've fought and beat three people at once many times and I've fought five to a standstill before. Secondly, in your hypothetical situation, I don't want you to fight. I want you to run as fast as you can."
"And I will if I can," Brittany said, "but that may not always be an option. Look, I love you but I don't want to be like you. I don't want to become an assassin, I don't want to join The Brotherhood, and I don't want to kill people, but like it or not, I live in a dangerous world now and I need to be able to defend myself if I have to." Santana's face was stern and she really didn't want give into this request but she knew that Brittany's logic was sound. "Please, Santana?" she asked again in this little soft voice that finally destroyed what was left of Santana's resolve.
"Fine," she said after a moment of tense silence. Her tone was short and clipped. "I'll teach you some basics so you can defend yourself if necessary, but you only do it as an absolute last resort. The people you're going up against will have been fighting all their lives. What I'm going to teach you in a few hours or however long we're here will never stand up to that. Your first instinct still needs to be to run."
Brittany nodded and said, "Okay."
Santana shook her head vigorously, "No, Brittany you have to promise me. Promise me that you won't try to fight these people. I can't deal with the thought of you dying." There was desperation in her voice as pled. "Promise me."
Brittany a terse smile on face raised her right arm with her pinky finger extended. Santana smiled and hooked her pinky around Brittany's as they both drew in tight to one another. "I swear," Brittany said.
Abe's dojo had a small boxing ring in it. To what purpose this served a paraplegic, neither of them knew. As far as Santana was aware Abe hadn't had this base before he was crippled so it was anyone's guess but she wasn't second guessing it right now. She went to a nearby cabinet and grabbed them some sparring pads. She deposited them all on the ring apron before leading Brittany to the heavy bag and running her through the basics of how to throw various punches and kicks.
Brittany picked up the basics very quickly which didn't come as much of a surprise to Santana. She was a very talented dancer so a certain level of body control was to be expected. Once Santana was satisfied that she had a grasp of the basics, she wrapped hers and Brittany's fists, held hers up in front of her, and said, "Okay, punch me."
"What?" Brittany said.
"Don't worry," Santana assured her, "I'll block everything. I just need to see if you're stronger in your arms or your legs. I mean I think I know the answer already, but just go with it. Hard as you can." Brittany ran through the things that Santana had taught her and true to her word Santana blocked everything quickly and easily. Santana quickly learned what she'd already suspected that Brittany had very strong legs. "Good," Santana said, "you're definitely a stronger kicker so that's what we'll focus on. I'm going to start by teaching you kickboxing and maybe some Tai Kwon Do too."
Brittany just nodded and they went to work practicing. Santana taught Brittany all about stances and techniques and again Brittany picked them up very, very quickly. Most of the time Santana didn't even have to show her more that once how to do anything before she had it down perfectly. Her form was excellent, her movement was flawless, her balance was amazing, but what impressed Santana the most was Brittany's rate of learning. Things that should have taken at least a couple of hours to become fluid at took Brittany only minutes.
"You've taken kickboxing lessons before," Santana said. She wasn't even asking a question. She was confident that it was the truth.
"No," Brittany countered, "I really haven't."
"You had to have," Santana said.
Brittany shook her head and said, "I've never thrown a punch before today."
"Well, my love, you're a natural then," Santana said, "Let's move onto some more complex stuff and see how you natural you are."
Santana moved on to start showing Brittany blocks and combos and again Brittany picked them all up lightning fast, still only needing to be shown things once or maybe twice before she had them down.
So effortless was Brittany's learning that Santana often found herself distracted just watching Brittany, watching already toned muscles flex and strain, watching beads of sweat form and then run over flawless skin. Twice Santana had to stop herself from leering, which Brittany undoubtedly noticed, although she didn't let on or say anything.
X
7:05 pm EST, May 23rd
Three hours in Santana was on the verge of dropping from exhaustion (which was a feat in itself) when Abe wheeled himself into the room with a tray of food across his lap. He watched them still hard at it, by now full tilt sparring for several minutes before either girl noticed him.
Eventually Brittany caught his eye over Santana's shoulder and pointed him out to Santana. She turned to look at him with an expectant look on her face. "I brought sandwiches," he said.
"I'm less interested in sandwiches and more interested in this Bleed Effect and Morningstar," Santana said gruffly. She climbed out of the ring as she stripped off her sparring pads. Brittany followed suit. "I'm thinking it has something to do with kinetic mimicry, because the way Brittany's picked this stuff up is downright scary."
"Kinetic mimicry?" Brittany said grabbing bottles of water for herself and Santana, "What's that?"
"It's a myth," Abe said handing each of them a sandwich and setting the tray he carried them in on aside.
"Abe, come on, after all we've seen and done you're going to completely dismiss even the possibility that..." Santana tailed off and planted her hands on her hips. "Dude, we know a psychic, one that we know for a fact is legit. How is that any less likely than that?"
"Because she's not the only psychic in the world," Abe said, "There are hundreds of perfectly functioning psions in the world and thousands throughout history..."
"You are an unbelievable skeptic," Santana said.
"And you're so quick to believe..."
"Guys!" Brittany called them down, "Someone please let me in on what's going on."
"Kinetic mimicry," Santana said turning back to face Brittany, "is the ability to perfectly duplicate any complex movement that you have observed. I think you have it because you've learned months' worth of martial arts in only a few hours."
"You think I have superpowers?" Brittany said.
"It's not really a superpower," Santana said, "There are people who can recall with 100% accuracy anything they've ever seen, read, or heard. It's called eidetic memory or photographic memory. So it stands to reason that the same principal couldn't be applied to muscle and joint movement. No matter what certain doubters in the room may think."
"Those doubters would tell you that there's no basis in science to support such a hypothesis," Abe said.
"Science can't explain how Rachel can read our fucking minds either, Abe, but she damn well does it!"
"Look," Abe said, "You had me research all of this Morningstar stuff, so do you want to know what I found or do you just want to speculate?"
"Yeah," Santana said, the sharp edge suddenly gone from her voice, "Um, what did you find?"
"Okay so the Animus Project was designed to force subjects to recall the memories of the genetic ancestors, but during the trials they discovered something that they called The Bleed Effect. It turns out that a subject's prolonged exposure to their ancestor's memories also caused the subjects to begin displaying some of the skills of those same ancestors, and again, I'm a computer guy not a brain guy so I have no idea how this works, only that apparently it does."
"People recalling muscle memory as well as actual memories," Santana said.
"Possibly," Abe agreed, "But ultimately that's what Project: Morningstar is or was. I can't tell if it's still running or not. It's an attempt to find people who have the blood of soldiers in their veins, find them and push them to recall their ancestor's fighting skills in order to…"
"Build an army," Santana said.
"Theoretically the greatest army ever assembled," Abe said, "I mean, imagine an army consisting of Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, George Patton, Julius Caesar, Attila the Hun, Joan of Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte… and not just one of each but dozens, maybe hundreds of copies of each, people that could become as good as those military greats in a matter of a few months instead of decades."
"So who's Brittany related to?" Santana asked.
"Probably not anyone you've ever heard of," Abe said.
"You might be surprised," Santana said.
"Brittany," he said, "Since we're being rude talking about you like you weren't here, do you recognize this man?" Abe pulled an old black and white photo of a man in about his mid 30's from a folder in his lap.
After looking at it for a minute or so she replied, "Yeah, that's like my great granddad, right? Peter something? I never met him though. He died before I was born."
"Master Sergeant Peter Adamson, United States Army," Abe started reading the file, "Born Piotr Odomsky in a village a few miles outside of St. Petersburg in Russia, 1912. Moved to Belgrade, Serbia with his five siblings in 1917 to live with their aunt and uncle when the Bolsheviks came, from there the children fled to the US in 1928 amid rising tensions between the Serbs and Croatians. The family changed their names at Ellis Island and Piotr, now Peter, fudged his age so that he could join the army to help feed his family.
"He was cited as an exceptional soldier on many occasions and was particularly adept at several forms of hand-to-hand combat. Eventually he earned a place teaching what he knew at Fort Benning, Georgia. That, of course, was all before he went into the European Theater during World War II, where he was cited a dozen times for distinguished service, exceptional valor, and receiving more medals than I'd really care to list, including seven Purple Hearts."
"I had no idea," Brittany said smiling, "I didn't know any of that, but then both of my parents are pacifists, so I guess it figures. So are you saying that, I can do all these things because my great granddad could?"
"Well, I mean, it's unlikely that he knew Muy Thai Kickboxing or Tai Kwon Do," Abe said, "but you have definitely forcibly inherited his aptitude for martial arts."
Brittany shook her head slowly, "This all makes no sense to me," she said, the smile slipping from her face, "Wait, you said they were building an army. Does that make me like The Manchurian Candidate or whatever? Am I gonna suddenly start killing people cuz I really don't wanna do that."
Santana suddenly felt like her heart was skipping several beats. Even as Abe had explained everything, the thought of Brittany being a sleeper agent hadn't even occurred to her. Now, however, she was hard pressed to ignore it. For the first time in days she was forced to consider that she was wrong, that Brittany was a legitimate target and that Santana had thrown her life away for nothing. No, she thought, not nothing, for love and even if Brittany was programmed they'd find a way to get her un-programmed.
"I don't know," Abe said not helping Santana's sudden stress levels, "There's nothing in your file to suggest that, but I can't swear that you weren't."
Almost as soon as he'd finished speaking, Santana blurted out, "What can we do to be sure?" Instinctively she moved to within reach of Brittany who had started to draw in on herself. She reached out and pulled Brittany into her and Brittany's hands circled her waist, her chin resting on Santana's shoulder.
"You, um," Artie started and stopped, not sure if either of them were paying any attention, he waited a minute before beginning again, "you may need to go visit another old childhood friend."
"Rachel," Santana said softly.
"If anyone can find out if Brittany has a trigger, it would be her," Abe said.
"Rachel?" Brittany said, her eyebrows knit as she looked down into Santana's eyes, "Big Mouth Berry is Rachel Berry, the singer?" Santana nodded. "I know her."
"Really?"
"I mean, we're not like best friends or anything," Brittany said, "I've danced back-up for her a couple of times when she's done shows in New York. She's with The Brotherhood?"
"She's an associate," Santana explained, "She's… she has a sixth sense. When we were little, she used to say that she was a little bit psychic. Now she's a lot psychic."
"You mean she can see the future?" Brittany asked, "Is that how she'll know if I'm like programmed or whatever?"
"No," Santana said, "She can read your mind, or she will be able to eventually. It might require us to spend some time with her, depending on how much time you've already spent with her and how long ago it was."
Brittany's eyes fluttered closed and she laid her head on Santana's shoulder. "I think I need to go lay down," she said, "This is…"
"A lot to process?" Santana filled in for her. Brittany nodded. "It's been a long day, a long couple of days really. A nap would probably do you some good. Me and Abe can work out the details of us finding Rachel."
"No," Brittany said, "Come lay down with me."
"I can handle finding Rachel," Abe said, "She doesn't exactly keep a low profile."
Abe returned to his computer while the girls returned to the sleeping quarters. They dragged the bed out of the room that Brittany had been in earlier into Santana's room. Once the beds were set up together, Brittany unabashedly started changing out of her sweaty clothes into a change that she had with her in her bag. Santana resisted the urge to stare until she remembered that she didn't really have to. Santana changed as well and they curled up in bed together with Santana flat on her back and Brittany's head resting on her shoulder and an arm draped across Santana's waist.
"It's gonna be okay," Brittany said softly into the skin of Santana's shoulder. Santana looked down at her wordlessly. Eventually Brittany looked back up at her, "I can practically hear you thinking, worrying about me being programmed, about someone else coming after me, about how long we're gonna have to run. I just want you to know that it's gonna be okay."
"How do you know?" Santana asked.
"Because I love you and you love me," Brittany said, "As long as we're together we'll be okay."
"You seem really sure of that."
"I'd rather be running for my life with you, than doing anything else without you," Brittany said before leaning up to press her lips to Santana's. Santana smiled into the kiss and sighed happily. They both drifted off to sleep shortly after.