"No good deed goes unpunished."

Desmond tensed when a loud alarm startled him awake early the next morning. So early that he could tell, even through closed eyes, that the sun hadn't yet risen.

"Go away," Shaun grumbled into his pillow, shifting under the covers. He clicked the ringer of his phone off, tossed it deeper into the bed, and rolled over to fall back asleep. A minute later, it rang again.

"Turn it off," Rebecca moaned, pulling her pillow over her head.

"I'z here somewhere…" Shaun felt around the bed for his phone. "Someone's calling."

"Then fucking answer it," Desmond said groggily.

"Hullo? Oh hey, Gav. Yeah, gimme a minute." Shaun sat up and yawned deeply, grabbing his glasses as he headed over to the desk. He opened his laptop and transferred the call from his phone. "Wha's going on, Gav?"

"Were you asleep?" he asked accusatorially.

"I was. And I haven't had my coffee yet today so I'm a little—" he yawned again— "out of it still."

"Shaun, it's 11 o'clock at night." Gavin paused. "Unless of course you're not in Montreal anymore."

"What ever gave you that idea?"

"Where the hell are you two?" he snapped. "I assume Rebecca's still with you."

"Hey Gav," Rebecca called from the bed. "I'm here, too."

"And where exactly is 'here?'"

Shaun didn't answer.

"You two are in fucking Paris, aren't you? Damn it, guys."

"Oh calm down. We're following up on some leads here and we couldn't do anything in Montreal. We thought this was a much better use of our time."

"I told you to stay there. I've got people handling the situation in Paris."

"Like Heinrich Hart?" Shaun sneered.

Gavin balked. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Desmond and Rebecca both sat up in their beds as Shaun became more and more agitated with Gavin.

"Hart is here in Paris. A lab exploded in Paris. We use Hart to blow things up. Did Hart blow up that building under your orders?" Shaun glared intently at the screen.

"How do you know here's there? Have you seen him?"

Shaun crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Gavin let out a deep sigh. "If Hart had anything to do with the explosion it wasn't on our orders, if that's the answer you're looking for."

"You never sent him to kill that woman, either? Or Wilson?"

"What woman? Who's Wilson?"

"Some lady that worked at Abstergo that was caught in the explosion. She survived, at least until Hart killed her. And then we followed him to a warehouse last night where he electrocuted someone to death before blowing up that building, too."

"He what!? No, I certainly never ordered him to kill anyone. I haven't given him a job in almost six months."

"Well someone's been keeping him busy on their payroll," Rebecca chimed in, joining Shaun in a chair by the computer. "That's two buildings blown up and two murders to cover his tracks."

Shaun nodded. "And that's just what we know of," he added.

"You two need to be careful. Hart's done some pretty questionable things, even for us. But he's effective at what we need him to do so we keep him on. If he's gone rogue, then there's no telling what he'll do next."

"Perhaps that tie needs to be severed, permanently." Shaun looked over the top of the screen to Desmond, who nodded in agreement. "I get the feeling he's not playing for our team at all anymore."

"Don't be too hasty, Shaun. We need to find out for sure before anybody does anything."

"He murdered a woman, Gavin. Right in front of us. And murdered his own partner, too!"

"So then he did us a favor! I fail to see what the problem is, Shaun."

"The problem," he hissed, his voice low and more menacing than Desmond had ever heard it, "is that he's a loose cannon that you no longer have control over. He needs to be dealt with."

They sat in tense silence for a few seconds while Shaun continued to glare at the screen.

Desmond could only assume that Gavin was glaring right back. "Let me talk to him first, see if I can get him to give up any information."

Shaun scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"How did you find him anyways?" Gavin asked. "He's pretty slippery, even by our standards."

"We have our ways."

"If you want me to talk to him and get to the bottom of this sooner, I need to know. Seeing as you've had run-ins with him twice already, you might want to think about telling me how."

"You have your secrets, we have ours," Shaun said curtly. He glanced at Desmond over the top of his screen.

"Shaun, what are you hiding?" Gavin said suspiciously.

"Oh, would you look at that? It's time for breakfast! Ta!" Shaun slammed his laptop shut, abruptly ending the call. "Now do you see why I didn't want to entrust him with information about you?" he asked Desmond.

He nodded.

"Great. We're back to square one again, aren't we?" Rebecca lamented. "Hart's gone, his partner is dead, and we still have no idea who they work for or what they wanted."

"Well, despite Gavin's reluctance to give us information, I believe him when he says that Hart wasn't acting under his orders."

"That would explain why he was so cagey the other morning," she said, pulling out her own laptop. "He probably suspected Hart was involved in the explosion, which would mean he'd lost control of one of his assets."

"Exactly. From what Desmond told us Hart and his partner talked about last night, it sounds like Gavin's not involved, but him not being willing to admit to that rubs me the wrong way." Shaun stood up, wandered over to the kitchenette, and began making a pot of coffee.

"But they also weren't working for the Templars," Desmond added. "You said Berg and Da Costa were two of them?"

"Berg certainly is, so I imagine this Da Costa woman is, too. And you said Hart was surprised they were both in Paris, yeah?"

"Surprised enough that he killed Wilson over it."

"So we've for sure got a third faction involved," Rebecca deduced. "Any idea who it is?"

Desmond shrugged.

"Too bad we can't ask Wilson. Poor bloke's probably still buried under several tons of concrete."

"Why don't we ask Hart?" Rebecca asked.

"Well that'd be a lovely idea, Rebecca, except that we can't find him."

"No, but he can find us, apparently." She turned her computer screen around to show an incoming video call…from Hart.

"Do we answer it?" Desmond asked.

"I have a bad feeling about this, but to hell with it," Shaun said, throwing his hands in the air. "Go ahead and answer."

Desmond sat around the other side of the computer and out of sight while Rebecca clicked open the video.

"I am surprised you answered," Hart said. He sounded pleasant enough, but his greasy voice made Desmond's skin crawl.

"Call us curious," she said simply. "What do you want, Hart?"

"I need a favor."

"A favor?" Shaun scoffed. "Oh, that's rich."

"We know you blew up the Abstergo lab and it wasn't sanctioned by the Assassins," Rebecca added quickly, giving him no room to weasel his way out.

"Not to mention murdered that woman in the hospital, and your partner. Yeah, we know quite a bit."

Both Shaun and Rebecca crossed their arms and narrowed their eyes while they waited for Hart's explanation.

"Yes, yes. You are right of course. But what you don't know is why. And neither do I. I think—I think I'm being set up."

"Conspiracy? That's what you're going with?" Shaun let out a hollow laugh.

Rebecca cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean 'set up?'"

"I can't say much now, but a week ago I received an anonymous call with a job offer to… render my services against Abstergo Laboratories here in Paris. It was strange that it was anonymous, as Gavin is usually not so secretive. No more than your kind usually are. But whoever it was used the same code words so I assumed it came from him or someone close to him. I got paid, and so I did the job. Now Gavin is saying the order didn't come from him. That I've gone—how you say it?—rogue? He's blown my cover and now the Templars are coming after me for it."

"You want us to believe you're being set up to take the fall by the Assassins after blowing up a building owned by Templars? Why wouldn't we just take credit for it like we usually do? Why blame you this time?"

"Exactly! Why? That's what I keep asking! Gavin will not answer my calls and I have nowhere else to turn to."

"Why kill the woman at the hospital?"

"Is it not obvious?" Hart let out an exasperated sigh. "She was a Templar spy. She would have told on me and my Abstergo cover would have been gone. Please, I can explain more in person. You are the only ones who can help me. If you don't, I fear Gavin will send one of your kind to kill me." His voice began to break, sounding more desperate by the second.

"Oh no, we're not going to meet you anywhere. We know perfectly well what you're capable of," Shaun said firmly. "Either you can explain now, or not at all."

"Besides, what makes you think we'd help you?" Rebecca added.

The waver in Hart's voice suddenly disappeared completely, and the same greasy voice returned. "Because if you don't," he said in a low, threatening tone, "I'll tell everyone who you have sitting on the other side of that computer screen."

Shaun and Rebecca's eyes widened as they glanced over the computer.

Hart continued, a new malice in his voice now. "Yes, I know Desmond Miles is with you, alive and well, following me at the hospital and to the warehouse last night. I think there are some people very eager to see him back in Abstergo. Would be a shame to let it accidentally slip out next time I chat with Berg."

Desmond closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where do you want to meet?" he called out loud enough for Hart to hear.

"I'll send the address to Rebecca's phone. Sixth floor at 11. I'll tell you everything you need to know there." And he hung up.

"I'm guessing I already know the answer but can we trust this guy?" Desmond asked with a deep sigh.

"Certainly not," Shaun said. "But I do trust him to keep his word on telling Abstergo about you, and that's not something I'm willing to risk right now."

"Agreed. But we're probably walking right into a trap," Rebecca said.

"Oh, most definitely. We'll just have to keep an eye out. We don't exactly have much of a choice."

"I know, I just don't like it—" Her phone beeped. "Got the address."

"I don't either, but somewhere, somehow the Brotherhood is compromised. Whether it's Gavin, Hart, or someone else entirely, I don't know, but I think it's up to us to find out."

"Plus, there's the whole blackmailing thing," Desmond reminded them.

"That, too. It'll be far easier to do everything without Abstergo breathing down our necks at every turn. We'll keep our eyes peeled for trouble and at the first sign, we're out. Sound good?"

"No, but like you said, it's not like we have a choice," she grumbled.

They were quiet as they took the Metro to a business district nestled along the Seine, getting off a few blocks away and blending in with the crowds as best they could on the way to their destination. They maneuvered through groups of people scurrying in and out of stores, keeping their heads low but eyes open in case Hart was nearby. At an intersection only a block away, they were forced to cross the street to avoid walking through a crime scene that'd been roped off.

"Wonder what's going on there," Shaun pondered out loud.

Desmond joined the other onlookers in watching as a police officer investigated a break-in at the animal hospital. She and the employee she was questioning stood off to the side, while another investigator snapped photographs of the broken glass strewn across the sidewalk from various angles.

"Guess someone wasn't happy with Fido's latest vet bill," Rebecca said offhandedly.

"We're here," Desmond said, stopping when they rounded the last corner and faced a large office building towering over the shops across the street. He kept his head on a swivel as they approached the front door, half-expecting Hart to appear out of nowhere. He took a deep breath and flicked his wrist twice, feeling the springing action of the blade extending and retracting along his wrist.

He felt woefully underdressed as they walked into the marble-floored atrium of the office building, finding themselves amongst a crowd of employees shuffling about, all in formal business suits and dresses. He pointed to the back of the atrium, and the Assassins ducked their heads and scurried towards the elevator bank at the far end, avoiding the stares coming from all directions.

"Well, that was awkward," Shaun said, pressing the button for the sixth floor as the elevator doors closed behind them.

"No kidding," Desmond agreed. He wondered if they'd receive the same stares from everyone working on the sixth floor.

But no one was even on the sixth floor, let alone working. Not Hart, not… anyone. So far as they could tell, the whole floor was completely abandoned. Cubicles sat empty and unused, collecting dust over the past few years. The glass wall on the far side was dingy, letting in just enough sunlight that they could see just how barren it was, even with all the lights in the office turned off.

Everything was eerily quiet when Desmond stepped off the elevator first, his eyes and ears keen to any sudden movements or sounds. The others followed close behind, their own heads swiveling in every direction and looking for any sign of Hart.

They wandered between rows of cubicles, waiting for him to appear. Passing by a light switch, Desmond tried flicking it on to no use. He shrugged and continued meandering.

"Looks like this used to be a marketing group of some kind," Rebecca said, flipping through one of the folders lying abandoned on a desk. "It's all just stuff about advertising different Abstergo products. Most of it goes back to more than five years ago."

"Wonder why they left it behind," Desmond mused out loud.

Shaun shrugged. "No idea. But check this out."

Desmond and Rebecca joined Shaun at one of the cubicles, where thick, black paint had recently been applied to the cork board behind the desk.

Leaning in, Desmond took a whiff. "Smells fresh. Like, a few hours fresh."

"That's what I thought, too."

"Hart?" Rebecca asked, looking over her shoulder.

Desmond did the same as he replied, "probably."

"So he, what? Invited us to arts-and-crafts time?" Shaun chuckled hollowly at his own joke.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Desmond glanced toward the elevator, as if expecting Hart to appear right then and there, then continued wandering between the rows of cubicles, eventually making his way towards the glass windows overlooking the Seine. Staring out reminded him of his dream, being back at Abstergo. He shook it from his mind and went back to walking the floor.

"There's more paint over here," Rebecca called out one row behind Shaun's.

"And over here," Desmond added from one row in front.

"It's also on the far wall. Look." Shaun pointed to where more paint was smeared. "Looks like spokes on a wheel. Or the top half of it, anyways. I suppose whoever painted it ran out of time."

"Maybe we interrupted them?"

Something about the paint sent a shiver up Desmond's spine, and he tried to shake the feeling they were being watched as they continued wandering around the floor.

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this," Rebecca said, echoing Desmond's sentiments exactly.

"Same," Shaun agreed. "Give him another five minutes and then bail?"

"I say we give him one."

Desmond nodded silently. He'd reached the far end of the office space and wandered into the kitchen area, which was just as abandoned as the rest of the floor. He drew a finger through a thick layer of dust on the breakroom table and wiped it on his pants. For good measure, he flicked the lightswitch, but just as it was in the main office space, nothing turned on. His stomach growled as he passed the refrigerator and, without thinking, opened it. His appetite vanished and he nearly threw up his breakfast when the stench of years-old leftover food hit his nostrils. He slammed the fridge shut and dove towards the garbage can, dry heaving while trying not to throw up.

"You alright, Des?" Shaun called out from the other room.

"Yeah," he breathed heavily. "Fridge was unplugged and closed with food inside."

"Oh gross. Hey Bex, Des, come look at this."

Desmond rejoined the others near the windows at the back of the room. Shaun was standing on a chair, looking over the top of the cubicles towards the paint on the wall.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked.

"Come up here. You'll see it better."

She and Desmond stood on their own chairs and he saw what Shaun was talking about.

"Oh! It's perspective art! No wonder it looked so random."

From here he could finally see the whole picture spanning across multiple cubicles, with the top of it plastered on the far wall. It was an inverted cross, with what looked like wheel spokes at the top.

"Wait a second, I recognize this," Desmond said.

"You do?"

"Sort of. Wilson, the guy Hart killed, had a tattoo like this. Hart seemed pissed that he got it. Do we know what it means?"

"I feel like I've seen this before as well," Shaun pondered, looking deeply troubled. He ran his fingers along his chin as he thought

Rebecca took a picture of it on her phone and began researching. "All I'm finding on the internet are satanic crosses."

"Have a brush with Satan recently?" Shaun asked Desmond as they both stepped down from their chairs.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Bummer. Thought that was one more mystery solved."

"Nope," Desmond said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Definitely," Rebecca said. "This place is giving me the creeps."

"Same."

They walked over to the elevator and as Desmond pressed the button, he heard a small hum start up in the kitchen.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He could've sworn there was nothing plugged in in there. "Wait here," he said. He tiptoed across the floor towards the kitchen, where he half expected Hart to be waiting for him.

The humming came from the water cooler standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Why is this the only thing on? Desmond thought to himself. He pressed the button several times, which felt hot to the touch, but no water came out.

As he knelt down and attempted to remove the front panel, he heard Shaun call out his name. "Oh my god, Desmond!?"

"One second!" His fingers gripped the sides of the panel, finding one of the plastic latches and prying it open. Once the first one broke, the rest snapped with ease. But Desmond's triumph was short lived and his heart dropped into his stomach when he recognized where the power was coming from as he read a countdown timer ticking away—on a bomb.

Nine…

Eight…

"RUN!" He shouted, pivoting on his toes and launching himself across the kitchen as fast as his legs would allow. He sprinted to the elevator and grabbed each of them by the wrists, pulling them towards the windows just as the elevator door opened.

He let go just long enough to grab the nearest chair and hurl it at the window, shattering the glass into a million pieces and sending the chair into the river below.

"JUMP! GO!" They did as told without hesitation, sprinting and launching themselves into the air, arcing just as the bomb detonated. The shockwave threw them clear of a boardwalk and they landed in the frigid waters of the Seine below.

All three gasped for air as they surfaced one at a time, spinning around just in time to see the building collapse into a heap of fiery rubble.

"Oh my god," Rebecca whispered hoarsely, barely audible over screams coming from the shore.

"Come on," Desmond urged, grabbing hers and Shaun's hands and pulling them towards the opposite bank. "There's nothing we can do."

They dragged themselves out of the river and sat for a few minutes to catch their collective breaths until Desmond, even over the ringing in his ears, heard sirens in the distance. "We need to get out of here before someone finds us."

Shaun and Rebecca nodded and hurried along after him, stopping every few blocks to catch their breath. If anyone gave the three drenched foreigners strange looks, none of them were aware of it, keeping their heads down as they criss-crossed through Paris and trying to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. They'd just crossed back over the Seine about two miles from the destruction when Rebecca insisted she needed to stop.

"Are you okay?" Desmond asked, wiping his hand along a tender spot on his head. He pulled it away to see a small streak of blood on his fingertips.

She nodded weakly. "I just… I need a break."

"Well we shouldn't wait here too long."

"I know," she grumbled, putting her head between her knees.

"Shaun, how are you holding up?"

"Got a bit of tinnitus but I think I'll be okay. Mostly just still in shock, I think. You?"

"I'll be fine as soon as I run my blade through Hart's chest."

"Agreed. No more playing his games?"

Desmond shook his head. "We shouldn't have played right into his hand. That was exactly what he wanted. For us to walk right into his trap."

"Well, it seems no good deed goes unpunished. As if you need any more motivation to kill him, I think I know who he's working for."

"Oh, yeah?" Desmond asked, perhaps a little too excitedly. He was eager to deal with them, whoever they were, once and for all.

"I wouldn't get so excited. You're definitely not going to like it."

"Spit it out, Shaun," Desmond snapped, impatience replacing his eagerness by the second. Shaun and Rebecca looked at each other, worried creases across their brows.

"Right before the explosion, I finally remembered what that symbol was and where I'd seen it before. It's an astrological sign, something that long ago was assigned to various gods for whatever reason. That's not important. What is important is that this particular sign was carved on one of the walls inside the Grand Temple."

Desmond's heart plummeted to his stomach faster than it had when he found the bomb as the realization dawned on him.

"Des, I think—I think Hart's getting his orders…from Juno."

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DESMOND! (Sorry 'bout the bad luck...)

Shoutout to everyone who guessed that Juno was behind everything! Curious to know who all has read the comics (I'm taking a few liberties from Uprising).

Also, does anyone know where the chapter title this week comes from? I was feeling a little sadistic and made sure to include it somewhere in the chapter for the parallelism, though I definitely didn't intend for this chapter to be posted on/around Des' birthday (but I can't say I'm upset by the dramatic irony of it all).