Desmond shot the camera in the small room a glare before plopping down in the chair. Fury groaned in annoyance at the arrogance the boy was showing to them at that moment. William shook his head. "I see the years on his own has not diminished his attitude towards authority."

"I bet it's probably worse now since the last time you saw him." Fury turned from the monitor before he put his fist through the thin glass. The boy had caused two of the Avengers to hunt him down, and almost gave one the slip. The boy had better be worth the trouble, and be able to do what was needed to be done. "You had better be right about him being able to access the memories. If not, well, let's just say we are out of options."

The duo walked from the room, the echoes of boots rang off the metal plates beneath them. Both men were lost in thought, both concerning the upcoming talk with the younger Miles. Fury knew Desmond, for all his attitude and rigid upbringing, didn't strike him as a fighter. A scrapper maybe, but only backed into a corner. He could have tried to fight Barton at the end of that tunnel, but chose to run. To escape and disappear once more.

As they approached the door to the room that held Desmond, William cleared his throat. "Nick, I will wait out here. The last time my son and I were in the same room, a few punches were thrown, and that was the night he ran. So, for the sake of peace, and trying to get him to help willingly, I'll wait out here."

Fury could understand that. They both wanted Desmond to help under his own free will, but if it came down to it, he would make the boy do it. To protect the lives of many, he was willing to sacrifice one. So with a curt nod, the Director walked into the room.

Desmond glared at him as the door closed behind him. "Well, you caught me. Now what did you what from me?"

Pulling out a chair, he took a seat, getting comfortable in the chair. "Like I told you at the bar, your help."

Snorting, Desmond leaned forward until his elbows rested on his bent legs, hands hanging between them. "Alright, let's hear it. What do you need from a bartender? Mix you a few drinks for friends? Tell you a few good recipes for cocktails? That's about all the help I can give you."

Fury could damn near feel the hatred radiating from the kid that sat in front of him. At least he knew where the hostility was coming from. He may have been friends with William Miles, and they had done many missions together in their youth, but the man could try the patience of a saint at times. The man was also hard-headed and stubborn. It seemed his son was the same way.

"Look, I can't give you all the details because some of it escapes me. Stark can tell you more, but I want you to go into this with an open mind. Your work would help save the world." And with that line got peals of laughter to come from Desmond.

"Oh!" He laughed harder. "Oh that is rich! You think I can help you save the world! The top secret spy organization needs a bartender to save the world." Then the laughter stopped and a seriously bored expression overtook his tanned features. "Now tell me the truth. What the hell do you want with me?"

One to not mince words, Fury replied. "For you to help save the world."

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

"What do you mean the subject is gone?" Doctor Warren Vidic looked up from the computer screen, forehead creased in a perpetual scowl.

The man in front of him nodded before clearing his throat, a clear sign of nervousness in his posture. "The subject entered his place of work at the time you spoke of, but never came out. I sent an operative in, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had vanished."

Cursing under his breath, Vidic stood and looked out at the New York skyline. "I want him found, no matter the cost. Too much is at stake for him to slip through our fingers. Too much time has been invested in finding him. Now get out there and I don't care if you have to turn this damned city on its head, find Desmond Miles at all costs."

Footfalls echoes off the floor as the guard scurried out of the office. Letting out a sigh, Vidic knew it was not going to be easy to find Miles if he did not wish it. It had taken nearly four years to track him to his point, and time was running out. The map to the remaining artifacts had only shone itself to one man, and he had been dead for nearly a thousand years.

Growling in frustration, the scientist turned from the glowing lights of the outside, deciding to focus on the task at hand.

*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Desmond knew what he was hearing was the biggest load of horse shit he had ever heard in his life, but he would play along. For now. Well, until he was able to figure out a way to remove himself from the picture once more. There were many routes out of the city, and from many trial and errors, he had figured out a few good ones to use. All he had to do was get back to his place, grab his bug out bag that held another fake identification, cash, and a few changes of clothes. California was looking really good.

"Are you even listening to me?" Fury asked, and Desmond could hear the anger in his voice.

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. "You need something from me. Well, not me, but a memory. Something one of my ancestors saw, or had. Don't know how you plan on doing that, but I think I want off the crazy train now." Standing, the bartender headed for the door. He was so done with the bullshit.

"What if I can prove to you what I'm saying is true? What if I show you?"

His hand stilled on the handle. "Why do you need this so damn bad? Why do you need me so damn bad?"

"Because you're the last living male descendant. You're the only one that can do this." The chair legs scrapped the ground telling Desmond that Fury had stood behind him. "If there was any other way believe me, I would have taken it. So far you have proven more than a handful, and I have a feeling you're still trying to figure out a way to get out of here. You can forget that. This building has its own security grid, laser turrets, and an AI that keeps everything in line. You're not going anywhere unless I say it's alright."

Silence settled over the room as Desmond took it all in. There was not chance for escape. No way to get away, and so he was effectively under this man's control. Just like when he was on the Farm, and that sent his blood boiling in his veins. A vow was made to himself nearly ten years ago, to never be controlled once more, had been taken from him in a night. He was a prisoner, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

So, hanging his head, Desmond knew defeat. "Show me what I have to do."

Hey! Sorry for the wait! OMG! My job is literally trying to kill me. I have been working nearly an hour longer every night, then the half hour drive back home leaves little time to finish anything. But I know this is short, but mainly a filler. The cooler things will be coming up, so don't worry. And I promise I won't take so long this time. See ya!