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[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed
Summary: Post AC3
Word Count: 993
Rating: Gen

 

         Desmond’s never been very religious, so he’s not sure what he expects when he wakes.  He hadn’t really put any thought into an afterlife.  As things go, he doesn’t remember any description of the afterlife—perhaps maybe Valhalla—that includes blinding headaches and a burning arm.
         He gasps in pain as he opens his eyes to blinding light.
         “Usually pain is a decision for us, but I’m not sure how it works for you, Cipher,” a voice he knows very well states, and if he’s not wrong there’s just the slightest hint of worry in her tone.
         “Humans aren’t Isu, even if we have a few Isu genes,” Desmond grounds out, still trying to work out where and when and how.
         “Most humans aren’t.  You are no longer as you were,” Minerva states flatly, like she thinks he’s somehow being an idiot on purpose.
         “Well.  No.  Obviously, I’m dead,” he responds with his finest sarcasm, glancing down at—he still has his hidden blades.  And the burned arm.
         She’s downright glaring now.  “You were dead.  You have been remade.”
         He thinks through the repercussions, the little he knows of the Ones Who Came Before and the ways they tend to think and communicate.  “What did you do to me?” he asks, wary, and even through the glare she looks a bit…there’s an emotion there on her human face that might be embarrassment or something.  Maybe. 
         “You died in the Grand Temple, with Isu genes.”
         He crosses his arms.  “And.”
         “The Isu would upload their memories and, if necessary, make a new vessel.” 
         He narrows his eyes.  “Why didn’t you or Juno or Jupiter try that, rather than wasting it on me?  Why not just upload your memory, burn a temporary vessel, and boom, sun problem solved?”
         She sighs, but the glare is less prominent now.  “It would have rejected us.  The technology was tied to Phoebus or one of his bloodline.  Phoebus was, however, killed during the war for siding with the humans.”
         “So you doomed us all,” he states, unimpressed.  Though if he remembers, that was a name for Apollo.  Descendants of the so-called god of the sun…no wonder the stealthy Assassins sometimes couldn’t keep from obvious theatrics.
         “Not me, personally, but…”  Her angered pride is easily replaced by resigned sadness.  “My people and yours forgot there was more than pride and a war to the world.”
         “I assume I’m a descendant of Phoebus, then.”  That explains why he’d been the one chosen.
         “Yes, and you were a lot of work.  Through the centuries where I could I molded you.”  That’s not a little disconcerting to hear.
         “You…genetically engineered me.”  It’s his turn to be flat against the shock.
         “Does it surprise you?  So many hopes rested upon you.  Any mistakes on our part could once again doom us all.”
         “Yeah, well, I failed you,” Desmond states glumly.  He will never, ever, apologize for choosing to save humanity, because there was at least the possibility to fight Juno after, but at the same time, that had clearly not been the outcome Minerva had desired.
         Shockingly, she smirks.  It doesn’t quite look right on her face, humanoid as it appears.  “That is what I wished Juno to think.  Deception is not a particularly Isu trait, but I had thousands of years of watching humanity, enough to learn just enough of what I needed to know.  Jupiter and I had some time to plan—less, certainly, than the Isu had to try to prevent the sun destroying the world, but our task was less arduous.”  She shrugs.  “The devices to recreate bodies had fallen mostly into disrepair; creating an Isu vessel would be out of our abilities.  Creating an Isu-Human hybrid vessel…”
         “I’m like you?”  Desmond feels slightly faint at this.
         “‘Like’ is accurate.  You are no longer fully human, but you are not an Isu—we will probably never walk what you call the Earth again.”  At his shocked silence, she continues, “…Activating the Grand Temple unleashed her upon the world.  She has secreted herself in what you call the Internet.”
         “The Internet is evil.  Of course,” Desmond hides his head in his hands.  This isn’t helping his headache.
         “However, in doing so, her mind vacated the Temple, and we could save your mind in its place.  She did not anticipate this, believing us defeated, and left no barriers in our way.”
         It’s slightly overwhelming.  “So, I fight her from…here?”  How would he even begin?
         “I have downloaded a part of my consciousness into the Library,” Minerva states helpfully, nodding at the Disk sitting on what’s left of Rebecca’s worktable (the part of him that is still Ezio spits Templar dogs).  “I had to briefly borrow your vessel to uncover the tools you need while you still slept, though I could not do it for long for fear of destroying all our hard work.”
         That’s also more than a little disturbing, and she probably doesn’t even see why.  “Next time you borrow my body, please ask first.”
         “How is it different from reliving your ancestral memory?” she asks clueless.
         “I don’t know, maybe it’s part of our ancestral distaste for being controlled?” he asks, and she at least looks a little contrite.
         “Very well, I will ask.”  She pauses, and then adds, “Your vessel is more durable than you are used to, but please, take great care of it.  Rebuilding another will be difficult and take time, and Juno will be aware of us shortly.” 
         “Dying once was enough for me,” he agrees.
         “The Templars currently have your original vessel, and are attempting to read your ancestral memory.  The Wheel of Kronos can be used to travel through time—assuming one has a vessel—and undo Juno’s work in the past, though there are limits.”
         He doesn’t like how it feels like she’s manipulating events again, but at least it seems like she does care about humanity and defeating Juno.  It’s a start.