When Desmond looked up from his breakfast, the whole scene turned old fashion. Plastic desks became wooden, industrial lights became chandeliers, and Ange took on the garb of an eighteenth century gentlemen. He began to worry as the hallucination stuck. This one was lasting several -

Then it was gone.

He looked back down at his cereal. Between that and his dream last night, he felt he had even more reason to worry about going back into the animus than he initially realized. He was pushing his luck, dancing at the edge of his sanity. Rebecca had said the animus was ready whenever he wanted to jump in. 'No pressure, of course,' she had added. But if more memories broke him it would be a price paid by not just himself, but the whole human race: after all, the Assassins had broken him out to be an agent in the modern day.

Desmond finished his last spoonful of cereal and looked at the bowl pensively. He had come so far since the day he was kidnapped, but it could still all fall apart.

He brought it to his mouth and tipped it for the last of the milk.

He looked at the ominous machine. Did he still feel like he should do this? Yes. He got up and began to approach, then felt compelled to linger. He looked at Shaun, engrossed in something at his laptop nearby.

"Hey Shaun," Desmond said. He gathered he had become friendlier since the rescue.

"Hello, Desmond," Shaun said without turning.

Friendly or not, Shaun was not going to make small talk on his own. Desmond would have to prod.

"What are you doing?"

"Researching the hell out of Polish history. You know, Napoleon Bonaparte was a Templar, or our order tried to eliminate him several times. He conquered a good share of the land that would become modern day Poland."

"Huh," Desmond said. He did not know much about Napoleon.

He disengaged from whatever he was reading and turned to Desmond, his bruised cheek, still slightly swollen. "Bonaparte was quite possibly the most important Templar agent in history. He accomplished as much in Europe as George Washington did in North America."

"I...I don't know much about him," Desmond said. For obvious reasons Desmond's education was not the best.

"Napoleon's campaign was all about toppling the old order, secularizing Europe, not so different from the Templars you witnessed during the Crusades, or leftwingers of the French Revolution."

"Leftwingers?" Desmond had heard the term thrown around in modern American politics. But what did it mean back then?

"Those who wanted more radical changes, to move further from the old order and traditions. They tended to congregate on the left side of the Assembly."

"So Napoleon was trying to take Europe out of the Dark Ages...was that really such a bad thing?" He got the sense he was stepping into hostile territory now, and was not sure if he should have broached.

"Millions died in his wars, and the result was power heavily centralized at a national level. You have two terrible additional wars in twentieth century predicated on the modern idea of nation states to thank him for."

"I guess," Desmond said distantly. Shaun was clearly much more educated than he was, but it seemed like mental gymnastics to vilify modernizing the world.

Shaun looked back and then continued typing, adding, "I suppose Western Europe was at peace for about a century thanks to him, but that just made it easier to exploit the world through colonialism. The Templars had their tentacles all over the world after that."

This was reminding Desmond a little too much of the talks he had had with his 'crazy hippy' parents before running away. A little resentment was bubbling up in him, so he changed the subject.

"I just...nevermind. Do you have any leads on this, uh...Alpha Site yet."

"None at all, I'm afraid. Officially Adam Weishaupt never traveled to Poland."

"What about the area Napoleon conquered? Can we narrow it down to that?"

"That doesn't mean much. He wanted it all."

That made sense.

Desmond looked back at the machine. He now believed he was just delaying the inevitable. With some courage, he walked closer to the red seat.

"Hey Desmond, Baby's all ready to go. You know Shaun tells me that last memory we went through was in 1794. We're closing in on the year Gustave was born."

"Gustave? I...oh yeah." Arno's supposedly adopted son. It was only a few days ago he had heard of the boy, but it felt like ages ago.

"I'm really eager to see how this turns out."

Without saying another word, he sat down, then lied in wait.

"I think we'll put you back in Arno, this time, help with the bleeding effect and all that. You know, the weird thing is, Élise's memories actually stop pretty soon, but I think Arno's continue well after this 'Gustave' was supposed to be born."

"Why is that weird?"

"Because if Gustave was your only ancestor Arno spawned, Arno's memories would stop right before his conception. Instead...he spawned another."

"You mean Gustave fucked his sister?"

"Nah, probably some cousin marriage or something. We and the Templars are both known for inbreeding."

"Charming."

"Hey, it's difficult to bring new people in to a secret society! My parents were cousins too! Anyway, just relax. I don't think one more trip inside Baby is going to kill you."