Desmond was on a cot in the twenty-first century. What an epic dream that had been. Was it a dream at all? If it was not his own imagination running wild with thoughts of his ancestors, it was another genetic flash back.

He groaned and sat up.

"Dez!" Rebecca said excitedly from her computer chair. "You won't believe what I found on that phone!"

"What's that?" Desmond was glad the Templar's death was not in vain.

"All sorts of things! Names of Templar VIPS, records of money laundering, and some cryptic references to a new artifact! Something called 'The Connector.'"

His grip on the present loosened for a second. Rebecca's attire turned to a eighteenth century clothing, her chair and desk into something more antiquated, but it only lasted for a second.

She continued, "It's not all good news, though. It sounds like they're trying to expedite the launch of that satellite."

"They haven't found an Apple yet, have they?"

"No, thank God. They're just...I don't know. I guess they're worried."

Perhaps the Assassins should be flattered.

Desmond scratched the back of his head. He thought back to his dream last night. It was not fading. He was becoming almost certain it was a flashback.

"You know, last night I had a dream. I was someone named Arno Dorian. I think it's the guy Lucy was talking about yesterday. We came over to Paris to hunt Templars. There was a guy named Mirabeau. I killed him."

"Desmond." Came Lucy's stern voice from the computer. He had not realized she was there.

"Yeah, Luce, what's up?" He felt a little embarrassed at his choice of impromptu nickname.

"I want to talk to you."

Rebecca rolled her chair away and presented Desmond with a spot to stand in front of the web cam. Desmond rose walked over.

Lucy and Shaun were on display, somewhere in the green European countryside. Claude was no where to be seen. Desmond could see their view in a small box in the corner. First it was his torso, so he bent over to show his face. He realized what a severe case of bed head.

"Hey, Lucy. What's up?"

"Desmond, that name you mentioned, Mirabeau, was real. His death was considered one of the turning points of the French Revolution."

"Gabriel Riqueti, Comte de Mirabeau. Count of Mirabeau in English," Shaun elaborated.

"What else did you see?"

"Uh...I saw that chick again...Élise. And there was this guy named...Robespierre? And...uh..."

"I think we need you back in the animus," Lucy stated.

"What? Seriously? Why?"

"That 'Connector' artifact: we know its somehow connected to the French Revolution. And Robespierre."

She had been the one saying they needed to keep him out of that machine just a couple of days ago. Maybe his deft performance in the field had backfired in a way.

Desmond looked down. He did not like the idea of being shoved back into the device that had already messed up his mind so much. But no one said fighting the Templars would be a vacation. He looked back up.

"Fine. But whose memories? Arno or Élise?"

Shaun spoke up, "I think a Templar perspective would be more useful. See if you can can get back in the memories of Élise."

His second day in the body of a chick, who was also his distant grandmother. What a world.

"I think Shaun's right, Desmond."

"Alright, Élise it is."

He was a soldier now. An odd sort of soldier, but a soldier none the less. The animus was his foxhole. He could have done worse. At least he was not risking his life like the dead whose pictures rested on Claude's shrine. He parted from the camera and let Rebecca resume her spot.

"Is there anything else you two wanted to tell me, Luce?" Now she was using that dumb nickname. "If not I'll get to work on setting up the animus."

"No," Lucy said. "That's all." And with that she cut the signal.

Rebecca turned to him.

He spoke first:

"Same shit, different day, huh?"