The Modern Day Fight

[madimpossibledreamer]

Don't think ubisoft will go here at all but I really like the idea of the Queens just going "you're ours now, welcome to the family"
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
Summary: Desmond wakes up and it's a shock.
Word Count: 770
Rating: Teen

             Desmond opens his eyes, and finds himself really, really confused.
             “Would you look at that, Lazarus lives?” a voice with an accent (Shaun?  No, not quite) states, and in an instant he’s to his feet, readying his blades—
             Except his Assassin’s blades are gone, and he finds himself falling over at the sudden movement.
             “Steady on, mate.  Let it settle in a little.  Not too long ago you were dead, after all,” the voice advises.
             Desmond blearily opens his eyes and glances over at the owner of the voice.  The man looks slightly familiar, though Desmond’s sure he’s never seen him before, and he’s pretty sure none of his ancestors have, either.  His head hurts, though, because while he can sense that this man has a color, he can’t see it—
             “If you’re going to try to make some sense out of John, you’re just going to give yourself a headache,” someone else states (“Cheers, sweetheart,” the other says in response), waving and friendly when Desmond glances over—
             Dark brown hair, matching eyes, a dimple, blue…
             He blinks.  He’s not sure if he can hallucinate when he’s dead, but it feels like he is.  “Tommy Merlyn?” he asks incredulously, because he did watch TV at the bar and knows celebrities by face at least.
             “Tommy Drake, actually,” the man responds, making a face, and then, at Desmond’s confused look, explains, “I legally changed my last name back to Mom’s, because I don’t want to carry on the legacy of a Templar.”  He spits the word.  Desmond changes his vision again, just to be safe, and—yeah, the man’s still showing up as blue to his Eagle Vision.
             “Steady on, there, chief—not as if he’s the only one with Templar blood ‘round these parts.  Let the innocent among us cast the first stone, and all that.  Besides, we’ve all got bigger fish to fry.”  And—the one he can’t judge is smearing…is that rose petals?  He notices, waggles his eyebrows, and states, “Look, any man who thinks Venus is kind and non-violent has never experienced love.  Minerva, Jupiter, sure Juno was bound to notice ‘em.  Not subtle at all, but Venus, now, there’s a woman after me own heart.  Spend long enough married to the god of War, and you learn a few tricks.”
             He’s talking about—wait, what?
             And while he’s losing his mind over that, another familiar man that had been absolutely plastered all over the TVs after his return from a mysterious island walks in and drapes himself over Tommy’s lap on the couch.  Tommy chuckles and runs a hand fondly through short brown hair, getting a content noise in return.  Desmond would like to blame the shock of coming back from the dead for the fact that it’s only now he registers that the dark green leather outfit Oliver’s wearing is…is an Assassin’s outfit.  The leather isn’t very familiar, really, but one of the sleeves rides up, and that’s definitely a hidden blade.
             Oliver Queen is an Assassin.  Tommy Merlyn is the son of a Templar.  The Animus had a way of making it seem like Assassins of the modern day were nobodies, that while big-name historical figures were involved in the fight between the Templars and Assassins, the same wasn’t true of the modern day.  This John, on the other hand…
             “Oh, I’d stop trying, mate.  I prefer to stay out of this little war, and truth be told, this war isn’t even my backyard.  I’m just lending a hand because it never hurts to be owed a favor by an Assassin.”  He closes his eyes and starts chanting. 
             “Well, he also would be a little upset if the world ended,” a woman—Thea Queen, chuckles.  She’s in leather, only red, and is perching easily, bow in hand, on one of the metal pipes.  She waves, grinning.  “Welcome back to the world of the living.  John worked his necromancy or whatever, because apparently having been ‘touched by the Precursors’ you’re uniquely enabled to deal with their plans, or something.”
             “I also wanted to offer you a job,” Oliver adds suddenly, only it’s very muffled because he’s still facefirst in the couch.  “We could use a bartender in the know at Verdant.”
             It takes Desmond a moment to even comprehend everything, before, very faintly, he responds, “You people are all crazy.”
             “Welcome to Team Arrow,” a blond walks into his view and holds out her hand, smiling, and it takes a moment and a use of Eagle Vision (not that that had been right about Lucy, his treacherous mind reminds him), before he shakes her hand.