Information Extraction

[madimpossibledreamer]

Desmond, that shouldn't surprise you.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World

Summary: Desmond uses the opportunity to get a better grasp of the situation in Blue Mountain.
Word Count: 2396
Rating: Teen

 

         Nguyen might be wounded, still, but it turns out she’s a bit of an amateur survivalist and is more than happy to start directing the others about how to go about setting up camp in some of the other abandoned houses. Taisa is slightly overwhelmed at the idea of even more civilians in the area, and apologizes that the meal has to be consequently a little less lavish than last time. Desmond just shrugs, since anything more substantial than dried fruits, nuts, ration bars, or jerky is a huge step up from what he’s been eating lately. She also doesn’t exactly seem unhappy about the idea either, and judging from a field report she starts to dictate in the other room, it might actually end up looking good for her work here on Solomon Island. She does ask for a favor, though. Desmond seems to be collecting those at the moment.
         “We were briefed about an Orochi presence on the island. They’re not exactly Council members, not like you lot, but there are rules. Treaties. They’re supposed to at least inform us when they’re here, check in, and they’re not doing that, which makes me worry about what they’re up to, especially since…” She sighs and lowers her voice. “We have managed to at least find if not decrypt translations, ones going into Blue Mountain, but they stopped getting a response days ago. You might be walking into a graveyard.”
         “That’s nothing new,” Desmond tells her and lets her deal with a McNee trying to bargain for some kind of uniform. He might end up with something, but Desmond’s pretty sure it’s not going to end up being regulation. And that the guy might not remember where it ended up. He calls Madame Rogêt, and she laughs but doesn’t seem inclined to bail him out, so Desmond doesn’t have too much motivation to do so either. Instead, he goes to check in on John Wolf.
         “Those who say ‘dead men tell no tales’ has never walked a mile in an exorcist’s shoes,” Wolf tells him, before shaking his head at Desmond’s alarm. “It’s nothing to do with the Park, or the Black House. Those are still laid to rest, as much as any such place can be. But I also mentioned, didn’t I, that there’s a darkness in the soil. It’s been here long enough to make a home here, pretend that it’s natural even though there’s nothing natural about it. It’s affecting the ghosts here, too, twisting them up inside. I’d thought I’d pinpointed it to the Park, but I was wrong.”
         That...doesn’t sound super promising. “How were you wrong, exactly?”
         “It’s deeper than that. The Park was the surface. There’s something out there, beneath the mountain, and it is worse than anything I’ve ever dealt with.” John sighs and gestures with his pipe. “If not for their protections, I’d worry about the Wabanaki more, though defenses and spells can only last so long out here, with the dark tide battering at the levees. Their ancestors seem to be...targeted. Targeted, turned, and sent against their descendants, with the rest of us only collateral damage. It’s manifesting in the nightmares.”
         “Why the Wabanaki?” Desmond wonders out loud, and John rests against the tree, staring off into the fog. There’s less of it, now, but it’s still here, like it’s clinging, refusing to leave even after everything.
         “Far as I can tell from what they’ve said, it’s a difference in philosophy.” The wolf pads over to join John in staring into the fog. “The Europeans believed that the entire world was theirs to exploit without thought or consequence. The tribes saw themselves as stewards of the land, granted bountiful harvest, protection, and other blessings as long as they act as guardians. Many seem to have come to the conclusion that the Europeans were right, since they won. That their contract is long since broken, if it ever existed.”
         Desmond catches the flaw in that logic. “But if there’s still some protection, then that can’t be true. Something’s still active.”
         “Barely. It might not have even saved them from the siren’s song, hanging on by a thread. There’s a reason they’re being mistaken for the enemy. Some have started hunting for sport, even turning on old allies like the Sasquatch, inviting others to join them. Others invited developers to come and make a casino. They’re just trying to survive in the face of monetary annihilation, but as they say, ignorance of the law is no excuse. The land, the ghosts, fight back, and they can’t tell friend from foe.”
         Rukh notices him tense up and nuzzles him. The senseless waste doesn’t just bother him because of Connor, though that’s a big part of it. If it’s part of training, that’s one thing, but that’s just bragging rights, trophies. Killing the innocent, in a way, particularly since he’s pretty sure from the sound of it Sasquatch are actually intelligent. No wonder Ami had so much trouble talking to them. And if they hadn’t listened to her...how likely is it that they’re going to listen to a complete stranger?
         That doesn’t mean he’s helpless, though. “Is there something we can do?”
         “I’m merely a humble exorcist, and I’m doing what I can, sending these ghosts back to their rest. The druids didn’t share much of their plans, but it sounds like they’re trying to restore the land in their own way. For you…” He sighs. “For anyone else, I’d say it would be impossible. For you, there’s a chance. Dry up the source, and the stream no longer runs.”
         Fair enough. “Good luck to us both,” he tells John, who smiles and waves him off.
         He might as well grill the soldiers for information on the way. He kind of wishes it was just McNee, because he has a feeling the guy would be the most likely to give him anything useful, but he’ll have to make it work. And if the Council has a treaty with the Orochi, then Orochi might have even requested the army and/or CDC presence, and they might know about what happened to Tyler Freeborn.
         Then again...he’s not thinking about this the right way. The Dragon are technically a Council faction, aren’t they? And Alice directly gave him permission to present himself as Dragon, and the Council apparently have agreements with Orochi, so him asking really isn’t all that weird, is it? Even him waiting makes sense, if they’re both supposedly following orders to minimize sharing information the other doesn’t know.
         “So, uh, how much do you know about everything going on here?” he asks casually.
         Smith glances at him, slightly irritated. “If you’re asking if we’re in the know—we’re in the know. You’re Dragon, right?”
         Well, that was surprisingly easy. Though people do tend to see things in terms that make sense to them, don’t they? Shaun had even tried to explain the Calculations in terms that made sense to him, and that was the principle he’d used to get inside the Orochi camp the last time, so maybe this shouldn’t surprise him so much.
         Unlike last time, they do get ambushed by ak’ab when trying to enter the tunnel, which is worryingly clever, since they’re basically a joke in wide open spaces and suddenly a lot more of a hazard when in close quarters, especially when they’re accompanied by three presumably non-magical army guys. Though those guns are almost as nice as the one Desmond’s using. McNee breathes a very obvious sigh of relief once they actually get through the tunnel. It’s nice that the bridge is clear now, so they don’t have to go through the wendigo on the higher path or detour to the beach and Draug, Desmond agrees, though it’s also kind of clear he’s not going to get an audible thanks from them.
         “Apparently we’re supposed to be backup to Orochi. You too?” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lydia glance at Nate, shocked. At least Nate is trying to act normal, even if this might surprise him, too. Alice glares at them both, so they both make a better effort, even though the army guys are too distracted watching either side of the road for undead ambushes to actually pay attention to anyone they’re with acting weird.
         “Like they feel a need to keep us in the loop,” Jenkins grumbles, ignoring Smith. “We were supposed to get more ordinance once we got in, and we’ve seen shit all. We’re reduced to begging for scraps from the supernatural U.N. from Venice. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Their H.Q. is a joke. They couldn’t even keep it topside.”
         “Jenkins,” Smith warns. He turns to Desmond. “You repeat that, we’ll deny it.”
         “I don’t think that needs to make it into my report.” Mostly because there isn’t a report, but they don’t need to know that. “You think I could get the location of the Orochi camp? I could go figure out what’s going on, see if I can’t get some more answers.”
         “I can ask,” Smith agrees grudgingly, then yells out, “Hey, Sarge, this guy wants a map. He’s here for the same thing we are, and the silence on the line’s bugging him too.”
         “From one soldier to another, absolutely. The sooner we know, the sooner we can leave this godforsaken island behind, or at least get to cracking skulls and not just maintaining a position,” Sarge agrees. He orders a different soldier to get a rough map together and for McNee to join the others doing pushups, while Smith and Jenkins get to take a break, then turns to Desmond. “So, best war story.”
         “Well, I took out the Park.” It’s not like he can talk about Abstergo, or anything his ancestors had done.
         Sarge whistles. “I’ve gone up against a lot of things over the years I’ve been deployed—incubi and succubi breaking contracts, the occasional werewolf invasion, your wayward death cult, but I’ve never fought a location, however haunted, before. What’s that like?” he asks, but Desmond doesn’t get to answer, because they’re getting interrupted by Olson. Again. She really is trying to keep him from snooping into something, isn’t she? Or maybe she just doesn’t trust Sarge not to say something now that he’s proven he’s not taking every order he’s given.
         “Excuse me. I caught your familiar trying to snoop on my computer.” And here Desmond hadn’t even felt him take off. Had the raven been missing since the bridge? Now that he’s thinking about it, had Rukh even been helping out in the fight against the ak’ab? He glances at Rukh, who doesn’t look at all contrite and isn’t too happy about being held.
         “Sorry about that. Ravens,” he tells her with a shrug, trying to act like it’s not a big deal specifically because he’s pretty sure it is. Rukh proves he’s smarter than Bob by going along with it, no matter how annoyed he is by the whole thing.
         “Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll demand a license for your bird, with the penalty of confiscation.” She’s acting like she’d have the possibility of Rukh anywhere he doesn’t want to be. Honestly, if he wasn’t just humoring Olson, he’d probably be breaking fingers with his beak, but it’s probably better overall if they just avoid it.
         He glances at Rukh. “I think I can manage that.” Rukh just nods in return, not even making a single sound in confirmation. Which almost certainly means he’s up to something, but like hell is it Desmond’s place to give him away.
         Olson doesn’t seem to notice. “Good.” She hands Rukh over, who flutters his wings a little, making himself comfortable, and still doesn’t jump to Desmond’s shoulder or open up his beak. “Now, I suspect you’re on this island for something else. Why don’t you go do that?” she suggests.
         That serves as a good enough excuse to go check out what Rukh’s been up to, out of sight of the military camp. “Sorry about this,” he tells Sarge, who shakes his head.
         “I understand. Duty waits for no man or woman. Some other time.” At least someone is friendly around here.
         Desmond waits until they’re by the rest stop and the picnic benches, but Rukh is a little more cautious, glancing around and tilting his head before he opens his beak and drops a slightly wet and mucous-covered flash drive into Desmond’s open palm. He grimaces, taking the handkerchief Nate offers him to wipe it off. The metal itself feels pretty durable, and if Rukh had also nabbed a military-grade flash drive, the contents are probably fine.
         “Did your raven...just steal government secrets for you?” Lydia asks in slight awe. Alice, meanwhile, has turned thoughtful eyes on Bob, who is frolicking through the leaves, enjoying running into them and watching them drift back down again, and has absolutely no idea of any future plans of theft.
         “And he acted really quickly to stop himself from getting caught, too. Yeah. Good job,” he tells Rukh, petting the beak. The raven in question puffs up his chest feathers, and he deserves every second of strutting around.
         “We really shouldn’t be surprised,” Nate observes.
         That leaves him with a problem, though. Ordinarily, he would have just sent this to Rebecca, no questions asked. But he’s not sure if he can, if she’d give him any direct information or just keep it to herself because of orders. The computer in the Innsmouth Academy is working, but if the Illuminati have treaties with Orochi, that’s not going to go anywhere fast, which means any Council computers are out, too. There might have been one in one of the abandoned buildings, or the gas station they passed on the way here, maybe, but it’d be a miracle if any of them had power. He sends a quick text just to be sure, but his hunch is right: neither Moose nor Madame Rogêt have a computer he could use. He could sneak into an Orochi camp and try to borrow one of their computers, but doesn’t really like the idea of having to try to speed-read through it. Which means, as much as he doesn’t want to get Danny involved with this, exactly, he probably doesn’t have that choice. Time for another delivery.