full chap name again: Muninn: Then the Devil Leaveth Him, and, Behold, Angels Came

When Clay came to it was because something had changed. Amid so many artifacts to help refine his focus, allow him to reach back and see further into his own ancestry without the need of an Animus he could sense when they were off, because when they were out of tune so was he. They were resonating differently now, and Clay could feel the shift down in his bones. Something about the world had changed in a big way.

Clay slowly untangled himself from the straps he used to partially submerge himself, so that he wasn't bothered by sensations or gravity, and so his body wouldn't ache when he finally came out of his trance. Sometimes he'd be in there for hours. It was easier, but always slightly disorientating. He stumbled a little at first, his legs feeling weak from his session, when he stood on the tile. He reached out and touched one of the artifacts, they hummed when he ran his fingers across the crystalline surface and he frowned. This wasn't the frequency he'd set it at. One that helped his mind focus, soothing his thoughts and helped push back the rest of the phantoms of his condition.

Clay walked around the big house. Where had he put his computer? He needed to contact Hawk. He might know what was going on. He found it in the living room, where he'd left it. It looked like a simple pane of glass, but when Clay turned it on it erupted to life. The home screen flashed into being, arranging itself like falling blocks.

Clay brought up his way to communicate with Hawk. He was supposed to only contact him if it was important, or an emergency. He thought this qualified as important.

'Something's changed. Frequencies randomly changed. Reset. Something. What happened?'

He looked up when the alarm suddenly went off. He frowned. He was in the middle of the fucking Indian Ocean and as far as he knew no one was supposed to know he was here. He kept a low profile out here, and the proeathans didn't know he was here. He and Hawk had installed additional security since humanities fall. Built their own versions of the Eden Eyes. Ones that only registered proeathans. They'd never been triggered, none of the Eyes had been triggered since the proeathans had shown up.

It was the proeathan ones that were going off now.

He brought up the security screen. The Eye was attached to a buoy a few hundred feet away from the shore and it showed what had alerted it. Clay paled. What the Eye saw wasn't a direct danger to him, but it still made him nervous.

There were ships, of various sizes, flying over the water or moving through it. Not towards the island, rather by it. The bigger ones were the size of battle ships and aircraft carriers, and those were in the water. The others were in the air around them, smaller, though some were larger than human passenger planes, and they were armed. Every single one of them was sleek and curved, like they'd been poured into place seamlessly.

Clay took a picture of the screen and it saved to his computer. He kept the security feed up and went back to Hawk's message.

'This is heading west.' And attached the image. He sent the message. Hawk had rigged the computers to piggyback old satellite and internet connections that were now under proeathan control. The message would go through three proxy servers before bouncing back down to Hawk.

Message sent Clay directed his full attention back to the security feed. The ships passed the island, but Clay didn't turn off the feed. He'd keep an eye out until they were out of sight, beyond the horizon.

He was glad he did too, because one of the flying ones abruptly banked and started flying right towards his island. He frowned, well he'd have to face the proeathans some day. That day seemed to be now. He got up and took his computer into his bedroom, to keep an eye on the security footage, while he put on some clothes.

The flying machine had made it to his island and was landing when Clay had finished his preparation. He was dressed and had a back pack on his back. He watched the proeathans get out of their machine and he went to the armory. He grabbed a rifle and a few magazines of armor piercing bullets, the extras of which he attached to his belt. He checked the cameras and saw that the proeathans were in his house, there was just two of them and they were clearly clearing the place.

Clay was about to leave the armory when Solomon appeared. "Not now Solomon," Clay hissed.

"But Atlantis will rise," he said.

"I don't care right now. Move," and he walked through the shade putting the stock of the gun up to his shoulder. He moved towards the proeathans. He'd seen in the feed, they were looking, but they weren't serious, they didn't expect anyone to be here.

So when he found one in a doorway they didn't expect a few well placed rounds to the chest and head. Their armor was designed to stand up to normal bullets, but uranium cored armor piercing rounds? It shredded their armor like cheese. They fell to their knees and then face planted, not moving.

The noise had alerted the other one though and Clay left quickly when he heard the movement and went for the front door. He heard yelling in a language he didn't know as he left the house and went into the jungle around the house. He and Hawk purposefully left the island wild, only cutting back plants that endangered the house. It made hiding easy, and sneaking easy.

Once he was up in a tree he fired a single shot towards the water.

A moment later the proeathan came out of his house. Clay looked through the sights at the still living proeathan. They had their gun up now and walked slowly, scanning. They were serious now.

Then, to Clay's surprise, they looked right up at him. Clay knew he'd been spotted by their body language, their sudden change of posture. Clay ducked and jumped down from the tree when the proeathan fired. He ran through the foliage, knowing all the rocks and roots here. The proeathan crashed after him, firing their weapon as they did.

Clay hid behind a large tree, one far bigger around than he was. The proeathan ran past and Clay watched. Then they stopped ten feet away and turned around, their weapon parallel to the ground. They knew Clay was here. How did they know? They fired at the tree and Clay ducked and covered his head as parts of the tree were blown off. He heard them yelling again, they were angry.

"Hey fuck you buddy I don't talk proeathan!" he called back but they just continued on yelling.

Clay peered around the edge of the tree and saw they were five feet from him. They fired when they saw him. He had to run again. So he did, heading back to the house, but looping around. The proeathan chased him, firing sometimes, but never letting him get too far away.

He rounded the corner of the house and slammed his back against the wall, panting. It was do or die time and he knew it. He had one more shot at this, literally. If he died there was no going Under. He'd be down for the count.

He lowered his weapon and from his thigh pulled out a big, curved, knife. Up close he'd seen that their body armor wasn't seamless. It was a helmet, and then they wore a high throated guard around their neck, but their neck was exposed. Clay calmed his breathing and listened. He could hear the proeathan approaching from around the other side of the house. He put the gun against the wall and gripped the knife. One shot, all or nothing.

When he caught the first sight of their body armor Clay lunged. The proeathan cried out when Clay tackled them and knocked them to the ground. They yelled at Clay, trying to smash his face with his gun, but Clay pushed it down and then he got his knife where it needed to go. They screamed when Clay dug his knife into their neck, just like he'd been trained to do by his teachers at the Assassin facility in Texas. In through the side, across the wind pipe, and if you're lucky, sever the spine. Clay's knife was long enough to sever the spine but he'd missed. The proeathan thrashed and Clay yanked his knife out, but towards him, ripping open the proeathans throat.

He fell back a bit as the proeathan grabbed at their throat desperately, their cries alarmed but quickly grew weaker until they gave one, last, wet, gasp, and lay still.

Panting slightly Clay looked at the dead thing. The dead proeathan. He'd never seen one up close. Not many people had, or at least had and lived to tell about it. After a moment he grunted and took off their helmet, he was surprised when he saw it was a woman. Her hair was short and black and her eyes were wide and afraid. Tears lingered at the edges of her yellow eyes and Clay felt guilt touch him. This is why he hated killing.

He stripped her of her body armor and dropped his backpack before pulling it on himself. It was why he'd killed her with a knife, to not ruin the armor. It was a but small on him, as the proeathan had been of a slighter build, but it fit. Then he grabbed his backpack, her gun, and headed for the beach.

The flying machine was still there, but it seemed empty, the ramp that led into the back down. He walked in carefully and peered inside. The cockpit was empty, he was alone here. Good. He dropped his backpack down next to the chair and sat. There was only one chair up front, the other position appeared to be a gunner position in the back.

When he sat the yoke came forward, it was a dome shape and he had no idea what to do with it. Screens also appeared around him and they were all confusing. Shit this was a stupid idea.

Or maybe not.

Clay relaxed and instantly his mind was adrift. He reached far back into his genetic memory, looking for someone who could help him with this. He found it and pulled it and him forward into the present.

A shade of a proeathan stood next to him. They were handsome and blonde with a neat haircut and wore a military uniform. They guided him on how to make the thing, which they smartly told him was an Io-class numia, fly. Clay closed the back of the numia and put his hands on the yoke and turned the engines on. The numia lifted five feet off the ground before it went back down when Clay took his hands off the yoke.

He hadn't expected it to be so… heavy. Like he had to physically lift the numia on his shoulders. What the hell? Why did it hurt so much. Next to him the shade laughed at him, at his weakness. Clay glared at him and tried again. This time he was ready for it and didn't buckle. He did a lap around the island to get used to it more, and he knew he wouldn't crash, because he knew everything his shade knew. He let it rest back on the sand and got up, stretched, and then sat back down.

Clay made the numia go after the large group of other numia and sea craft. They'd made quick time over the water, moving faster than human ships that was for sure, and the aircraft had moved past them.

When he drew near a screen started flashing, he touched a point on the yoke and a communication panel opened. Someone began speaking to him in proeathan, but he had no idea what they were saying. Clay looked up at his shade, what did he say?

Then he looked forward again, "Copy, this is dos-madda-madda to fos-mari-kon. Island is confirmed uninhabited, we just found remains of humans there. The damn fivers starved themselves to death," he said along with the shade in the proeathan tongue. He laughed with the proeathan through the comm link. They said something but to Clay it was unintelligible. "Copy. Out," and he turned it off. He sighed in relief when it turned off. "Good job," he told the shade.

"I know what you know," he said, "Even if that isn't much you stupid human."

Clay sighed, "Fucking proeathan," he grumbled and got into formation with the rest of the numia who were flying far ahead of the navy, headed for a continent they called Agara. Clay didn't know what the hell he was going to do when he got to Africa.

—

It was dark when the numia all landed on the eastern-most coast of Africa. Clay got up, and at the assurance of his shade, left the numia. The body armor made him look like everyone else. Once everyone was asleep he could leave. The helmet only covered the upper portion of Clay's face, and now that he was using it he saw that it gave your peripheral notifications to things beyond your line of sight. It was how the proeathan on the island had seen him those few times.

Clay kept to himself as the proeathans set up a camp, they had to wait for the navy. He just did as was ordered and ate what was offered. He didn't talk unless absolutely required and was glad when it was time to go to bed. The proeathans didn't set up sentries, they didn't fear anything. Most of them also slept in their numia, complaining it was too hot to sleep outside, which gave Clay a good excuse to find his again.

Inside he went and got his computer, he had a message from Hawk. The message was short 'are you alive?'

Clay replied quickly, that yes, he was alive, and told Hawk the situation, but he needed to know where to go. He sent it hoping Hawk was still awake. He was lucky when he got a reply shortly of cords to Lake Chad. Clay picked himself up off the ground and went to the cockpit, still wearing his helmet.

The shade told him how to cloak his numia to normal proeathan pings, at least until he didn't need it and how to set the numia to auto fly. Auto fly in that it would steer itself a bit, but Clay still needed to stabilize the craft and control the speed. The numia lifted up from the other numias and he cranked the engine so it took off at high speed. The shade told him to ease up, as these numia weren't meant for hypersonic speeds. Once he felt he was a safe enough distance away to remove his helmet he eased up on the speed.

—

He arrived at Lake Chad in a few hours and he hovered a few hundred feet above it. Where the hell was he supposed to go?

The communication array came on again, he opened it. "Hello?" a very familiar voice asked, in perfectly reasonable English.

"Hawk!" Clay cried.

"Good, you're alive, and here, hold on I'm going to make Demeter open the hanger."

"Demeter?" he asked even as he was alerted to something below him. He looked down and saw the lake opening. "Hawk what's going on?"

"Just get your ass down here and we'll explain, okay?"

"Okay," he said and let the numia drop. As he did the shade vanished.

He landed in the hanger lightly and got out of the pilot's chair, grabbing his bag and the proeathan gun as he went. When he walked down the ramp several people were there to meet him. There was Hawk, and Altair, and Ezio yeah, but Jake was there too. But he wasn't looking at any of them.

"Lucy?" he asked in a soft voice, unable to believe what he was seeing. There she was, alive. But not like he remembered her. Her hair was short now, and she looked… different, though he couldn't place exactly why. He was just staring at her. She was staring back and her hand was up to her mouth, covering it. "You're dead," he said.

"You're one to talk about dead!" she suddenly cried, "You're supposed to be dead too!"

He looked down at himself, "Well, I'm not," he said.

"Me neither," she said.

"C'mon Clay," Ezio beckoned. "We got a lot to catch you up on," and Clay followed slowly.

Lucy fell into line with him, "I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry?" he asked.

"About what I did," she said.

He looked down at her, "Are you really?" he asked.

"I didn't have a choice," she said in a soft, broken, whisper. "I didn't want to hurt you or anyone else. But I had to."

He looked away from her, "Its been five years," he said, "and the Templars buried you. What are you? Where's the real Lucy Stillman?"

"She's dead," Lucy said, "And I… its complicated. I'm sure it'll get explained with the rest of this," she sighed as they stepped onto a lift. "I don't expect forgiveness, I just want you to know, I am sorry."

Clay looked at her, "Does Desmond forgive you?" he asked.

"He does," she said softly.

"Then I guess I do too. You fucked him up way worse than me. I just lost my mind and died, he destroyed the world because of the path you helped him find. Peanuts compared to him really."

"Really?"

"Don't expect me to love you or anything. But I don't hate you."

She sighed, "I can live with that. I need less people who hate me right now," and she held her elbows. Clay frowned at her. She seemed so weak. It didn't seem like the Lucy he'd known.

"Are you afraid?" he asked her.

She glanced at him, "When am I not afraid?" she asked.

The lift stopped, they got out and followed the immortals to a room with comfortable furniture. Clay stripped off the armor and sat. "So, first off," Altair said, "This is Demeter. This facility is Demeter."

"I am their representation," And Clay started when a proeathan woman appeared. "Hello Clay, I am Demeter. These are my brothers, Mercury, and Pluto," a boy and a man appeared.

Clay pointed at Pluto, "I know you," he said.

"What?" Pluto asked, confused.

"I'm one of your line," he said.

"Huh," Pluto made a thoughtful look. "Do you know my name?"

"Uh… not sure. I know you're a fucking dick though," and around him the others laughed.

"You wouldn't be wrong," Jake said cheerfully. Pluto glowered at them all as a whole.

You all need to stop acting like Andrew, and start acting like Desmond. Trust a little.