The sun was beginning to rise, washing the land in the fiery brilliance of the morning sun, leaving Daunte yawning, fighting sleep that his body so desperately craved. But that was not to happen. He had to find out what was going on to make his brother want to work with average men and women. It didn't happen often, and he knew that there was something amiss in all the chaos that he had seen in the night before.

Virgil still had not made an appearance, and for that the half demon was thankful his twin was still hiding in the shadows. As too was he, but of other reasons. For he knew that if he went in there, not fully understanding the scope of what lay before him, he would miss key elements in the whole story. A story he needed to know. So in the shadows he watched the transactions of goods trading hands, and artifacts being brought in.

The artifacts were what had him intrigued most of all. Demon in origin, he could tell from the markings on a few he was able to get close enough to observe. No one spoke of what was there, leaving him only to speculate what was going on with everything.

Another yawn came from his lips, leaving him rubbing the grit from his sore eyes. Sleep was going to claim his body, it was only a matter of time, but Daunte fought it off like he did everything else. With determination, and shear will of his being. Eyes began to drift shut, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Here."

Daunte turned his head to see Trish holding out a steaming cup of what smelled like coffee. "Two creams, heavy on the sugar, and a shot of espresso." Her ruby lips lifted at the corner as he took the cup into his hands.

"Thanks." Taking a tentative sip, the warm liquid poured over his tongue. Just the right about of sugar.

Taking a seat beside him on the ledge, she picked up the binoculars that had been sitting in that place. "Learn anything new?" She asked, eyes scanning the comings and goings.

Shaking his head, a sigh escaped. "No, and truthfully, that's what has me worried. Virgil wouldn't go through all this trouble to hide what he was doing. There has to be something else that we're not seeing, or hell, even understanding. But if we rush in there, all of them are going to go underground, and that will be the end of that."

"Well, we might not have to wait long to see what they're about to do." And she pressed the binoculars into his hand, taking the cup in the same motion.

Raising them to his face, his eyes widened when Daunte caught a glimpse of Virgil entering the area. Two men in business suits, the same two that had been signing for everything, approached. Now he was thankful he could read lips, because they were too far to hear.

"Is everything I requested here?" Vigil snarled at the men, who were stone-faced towards the man.

"Everything artifact you requested as been delivered, save one, which sadly were have been unable to procure." The older man with the graying temples spoke next. "It will take more time than what we currently have."

"Where is it? If I have to, I'll get it myself. Nothing can go wrong when Mundus is summoned. If one thing is missing, then all of this preparation will be for nothing. And I don't think your boss will be too pleased if I am unable to do what needs to be done because you two can't get one damn piece."

Daunte arched a brow at that. One piece was missing from the whole plan. One piece. And it was as if he had been struck by lightning. They were after the piece he owned. The way into the demon realm. "Shit."

Trish looked at him. "Want to fill me in?" She asked.

"We need to get back to the office, and I'll fill you in on the way. Besides, we need to get out of here before Virgil figures out that I'm here." His brother was always good about that.

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

"Altair, you cannot be serious. That thing is a danger to not only yourself, but this entire land." Malik Al-Sayf shook his head as he shelved a book he had finished with. "You know nothing of its power, and what he can truly do. You must be rid of it."

Altair Ibn-La'Ahad allowed his eyes to slide shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I understand your trepidations about this, Malik, but I hold onto it for the safety of all. I understand a bit of what it can do, but not the full function. I must understand why it was hidden the way it was in order to keep it out of Templar hands."

Malik groaned, resting his head against the shelf in front of him. "Allah give me strength." He muttered.

"You will not find strength in him, only in yourself." The Grandmaster snorted, leaning against the wall, eyes watching everything.

Turning to him friend, the Dai chuckled humorlessly. "I look for the strength to not harm you, Altair. You could try the patience of Allah himself most of the time, do you know that?"

The cocky smirk raised the corner of his scarred lips, giving Malik more reason to stay his hand. The man was more infuriating that most apprentices. "So I have been told."

"Because it is the truth, Novice." And smirked himself when his pet name for the assassin grandmaster caused the man to frown tightly. "You speak, but I doubt very much that you understand your own words. That stone is dangerous, and you wish to understand it. That in itself is dangerous to me. You are trying to grasp something that no one, besides its creator, knows. Knowledge can be a heavy burden to bear, and you wish to know it all."

"I wish to understand, that way I can keep it safe. There is a reason for its appearance, and for that, I want to know its magic." Altair pushed himself from the wall, and pulled the small silk pouch from his pocket. Even incased, there was a light pulsing from the stone through the dark silk. It was similar to the Apple in that manner, but they worked differently from one another. But reacted to each other in ways that still left him reeling from the sights. "There must be a reason."

'Desmond.'

The world began to fall around him, leaving him in the white start up room of the Animus. 'I'm going to pull you out now. You've been in there too long.'

"But I was getting close to knowing what he knew." But Desmond had learned that arguing with Tony was pointless. "Just push me through a few more hours."

"No one knows what that amount of time in the Animus will do to the human mind. I'm pulling you out now."

Desmond growled to himself, but knew they were being cautious. Not two days before the ex-bartender had flipped out on Barton, yelling at him in ancient, not modern, Arabic. It wasn't Desmond that had been in control of his mind that day, but another force entirely. Like being on the other side of a window and watching the whole thing play out. Like his times in the Animus.

The white fell out around him, and he could feel the chair under his body, hear the soft hum of the machines around him, and the furious typing of a keyboard. "Damn it." Tony must have run into another problem.

As Desmond's eyes began to readjust to his surrounding, he could tell there had been a shift in the mood. It was heavy, almost oppressive. Like something was coming. Danger, was the only word that screamed in his mind like a banshee, putting his nerves on edge. Not like they weren't there to begin with. Being inside Altair's mind was like walking through a field of landmines blindfolded. The man was brilliant, but there was an edge of ADD there as well. His mind was scattered, and sometimes it was hard for him to focus on one thing.

"If you're up to it, Fury wants to see you. Guess he wants an update on what you've learned." Tony didn't even look up from the monitor he was currently sitting in front of.

"Ugh." Desmond groaned as he sat up. Talking to Fury was not his idea of fun, or exciting. The man had a personality like a bullet train. Only went one direction and that was to the destination. There was no stops in the middle. Yeah, not what he was looking forward to.

So, after finding out where the man was, he took himself there. Fury watched him walk in, and gave a curt nod. "I see you're still in one piece. No more flip outs?"

"Not since the last one." He muttered as he flopped down into one of the nearby chairs. A headache was beginning to make its presence known, just like every other time he came out of the machine. But most of the time he had more time to become re-acclimated to his reality before being thrust through another hoop, or at another person.

"Good." Standing, Fury looked out the large window at the glittering lights of Manhattan. "I think we need to redirect your new found skills."

"Huh?" Raising his head, Desmond looked at him strangely. "What the hell are you talking about? New found skills?"

That's when the door opened and a blonde woman walked in. Hair in an impeccable up do, clothes pressed and perfect. But there was something about her eyes that made him question her. It was the eyes of someone that had seen death. The eyes of a trained killer. An assassin.

But Fury paid him no mind. "Desmond Miles, Lucy Stillman. She knows more about the Animus than even Tony does."

Lucy walked over to him, and held out her hand, which he looked at. "I guess we'll be working together from now on."

Desmond looked from her outstretched hand to her face. "What do you mean, new found skills? Someone what to answer me?"

Taking a step back, and letting her hand fall back to her side, Lucy spoke first. "It's called the Bleeding Effect. Subjects of the Animus often begin to pick up the traits of their ancestors. Fighting abilities, speech patterns, hidden talents. It's been documented that Altair had an ability called Eagle Vision. It's rare in humans, but the trait can be passed on in the genes. A few assassins in history had possessed the talent. A few of those men you are related to."

This was getting a little too strange for him. "Hold on." Taking to his feet, Desmond looked to the man that pulled him into all this mess, to the woman that was now explaining it all. "You mean to tell me because of this machine, I'm going to become Altair? I didn't sign up for this." Backing away, his anger began to get the best of him.

Hands clinched in rage at his side, Desmond wished he could run at that time, but that was not an option. Jarvis would seal the doors, preventing him from leaving. "Start explaining, and don't you dare leave anything out."

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

Looking down at the bodies around her, Natasha Romanoff snorted as she wiped a small amount of blood from her busted lip. It wasn't supposed to go down like this, but when she had walked into the room, and saw the men, it had been a trap from the get go. Now, they were all either dead, or down for the count. It wasn't hard really. You just had to know where to strike and when to hold back. She was good at that. Really good at that.

'Widow, do you copy?'

Groaning, she touched the mic on her earpiece, answering the call from Steve Rodgers, AKA Captain America. "I'm here."

'You went com black. What were you told about com black in a hostile environment?' He sounded pissed, but when it came to their working relationship, he was always pissed about something. Still had the 1940's mindset about women sometimes, and frankly, it pissed her off.

'I'm a spy, Rodgers, it's what I do. If I have to go black for a mission, it's what I have to do." Romanoff growled, making her way to the safe in the corner. She wasn't sure if anything of import was going to be in it, they knew she was coming, but it was better safe than sorry. Too much shit was riding on this mission.

'But you know I'm here for backup if you need it.'

"And I didn't. That's why I didn't call you in. I'm a big girl, and can handle a few thugs." It was more than that, and both knew it. There had to be at least twelve men on the ground, armed to a certain extent. Yeah, there were a few rough points, like she was hit in the mouth, but other than that, she was going to walk out of there.

'That's not what I meant and you know it.' God, the man was infuriating!

"I know what you meant, and truthfully, I had the situation under control." Kneeling in front of the safe, she placed her ear to the metal, listening to the tumblers clicking with every turn of the dial.

'You need to be more of a team player.'

"And you need to shut up so I can concentrate on getting this safe open." Her fingers didn't miss a beat as they stopped on the correct sequence of numbers, and the opened wide, revealing the contents to the world. "And we have a winner."

Pulling out the files that were needed, Romanoff walked out into the alley towards the waiting car out back. Rodgers leaned against the sports car, ball cap pulled low over his blue eyes. "You could have been killed in there." His argument came out more like a sigh, because it wasn't really worth his breath to argue with her. They both knew nothing was going to change. She didn't do well with people trying to change it. It always ended badly.

"But I wasn't." Climbing into the driver's seat, the spy waited until the soldier's door was shut before firing up the motor and leaving the scene. "Here." She slapped him in the chest with the files she had just retrieved. "Hold onto those for a few minutes."

Rodgers looked at her, brow raised. "And what am I now, your file keeper?"

Smiling, her hand pushed the car into fourth gear. "For now, you just get to sit there, look pretty while I get up back to base."

Anger practically rolled off him, but like the Boy Scout he was, his lips stayed shut.