An Open Hand
Feb. 1st, 2024 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerAnd with this Desmond has met every faction handler other than his own, which is amusing.
Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Honestly, Desmond might've expected this a little sooner if he hadn't gotten the feeling that probably at least one Machiavelli-like figure was second guessing everything and disagreeing with every decision somewhere in the Templar leadership.
Word Count: 1482
Rating: Teen
It’s a good thing Desmond has been training practically his whole life for keeping a straight face, even if he was hardly the best of them at it, because otherwise he’d be giving something about his snooping mission away. He’s doing his best to not feel guilty about that, because among other things Rebecca and Shaun are, knowing them, absolutely doing the same exact kind of thing behind his back.
He’s Black, which says good things about their recent inclusiveness efforts, and his suit is immaculate, but the earring helps him not look completely out of place. Despite all the whispering.
“Richard Sonnac,” he introduces himself, setting down the beer and sliding into the empty spot next to Rebecca. When he holds his hand out for a handshake, he goes for ‘respectful’ and doesn’t try to make it into some sort of contest. “Normally we’d be holding this meeting in my office, but recent events have made even the best of us rather more paranoid than usual, so even escorted you entering Templar Hall was ruled out of the question.” Unless they're being cagey, that means they probably don't know about his scouting, then. “ I wanted to express my apologies for the attack in person. We pride ourselves on London being the hub of the Secret World, and events, as of late, have not been encouraging. The surveillance had even mostly been for your protection, although I appreciate your tolerance in such matters.” He’s also straightforward and genuine. Desmond likes this guy. It doesn’t necessarily mean he isn’t a bastard or plotting Desmond’s death, but in a place where everybody’s been acting like this is one massive spy thriller, one guy actually mentioning stuff about behind-the-scenes and not trying to prove his superiority is a bit refreshing.
“Thank you. Any leads?” he asks.
“Desmond,” Shaun hisses, kicking him under the table, but he doesn’t even flinch.
Sonnac, however, doesn’t seem insulted. “None, I’m afraid, which I fear is the other reason why this meeting has been postponed as long as it has. I was hoping to be able to bring you some fresh lead to prove to you that you will be a safe guest while you remain in London, but I unfortunately must inform you that is not the case. What I can tell you, whether you believe me or not, is that this was not sanctioned by the Templars, though that, of course, does not rule out a lone agent gone rogue. What we do know, thanks to you, is that this likely was the work of one of the members of the Council of Venice, since they were able to flee into Agartha. Only those who have been Bee-touched have been given the Agartha anchors by the Guardians, so that narrows the pool of suspects, if not, sadly, that far, since quite a few have been visited by the Buzzing. The Council itself is taking interest in your case. Chelsea, by the way, is recovering quite well.”
Desmond weighs this for a moment. Sure, this all might be a ploy to figure out how much he knows, but if he’s lying it’s stuff he already knows, and if he’s not, they actually could get somewhere if they work...well, he was going to say ‘together’, but it’s more along the lines of ‘in parallel’. “I’m not actually entirely convinced it’s a Bee responsible.”
Shaun looks shocked, Rebecca looks not-shocked, and Sonnac looks intrigued. “Please, do continue.”
“When the attack failed, he ran. He didn’t go for a second shot, which would have made sure that I went down and couldn’t follow him, and he seemed panicked. Shaun pointed out maybe he was hoping to take me out and then do something while I was out, but the Agartha Well’s pretty close, so he wouldn’t have a lot of time. If he’d actually been planning on doing something after, it’d make more sense to lure me somewhere so he actually had the time while my spirit was out. And sure, maybe he was trying to hide who he was working for, but the brief glimpse I caught, he didn’t look like he was in uniform, and if he was a Bee, it wouldn’t be long before he’d be back. The way he moved, he panicked. Like he’d have something to lose if I was armed. To me, he seemed like a normal mercenary or hitman out of his league.” He’s been thinking about this a lot, and anything he has, it doesn’t make sense, not as presented anyway.
“All very good points.” Sonnac sighs, taking a sip of the beer. “And, unfortunately, rendering this ever more of a mystery. Rebecca here has been scouring the internet looking for a payment for services rendered, and has found nothing. Of course, it’s entirely possible our would-be killer never got paid, considering he failed his contract, in which case tracing the entire thing becomes that much harder. Either he or his employers covered his tracks magically. If it’s a matter of tracing the Agartha anchor, that is likewise a tedious task. While the source of them is unknown, according to the Conductor, there’s more than a few, so a theft would be likely to go unnoticed. If a Bee handed one off to someone else, it’s not as if there’s some sort of magical alarm. We can experiment to see if an ordinary person can use one, which would be useful information.”
Which, actually, raises a good question. “Do you think he was set up to fail?”
Rebecca breaks in. “Oh, like a message, you mean? Sure, that seems like it’d fit what we know. I can look into that.” At Sonnac’s raised eyebrow, she adds, “Sorry, Boss.”
“It’s possible, but I would hate to say anything with certainty at this juncture.” Fair enough. “What I can tell you is that we have managed to get permission for something else. We have, shall we say, renovated a small area under our jurisdiction to serve as a private training ground. It is not as extensive or reinforced as the one in Templar Hall, but it should prove adequate for your use. Shaun has been anxious to provide you with the sort of instruction your faction handler should have ensured when you were first recruited, particularly since you are in proven danger. You are also free to use the space as you see fit; consider it a gift of hospitality.”
“Again, I appreciate it. I wouldn’t mind having somewhere to stash my stuff.” He doesn’t mention ‘sleep’, as he gets the feeling the ‘other’ Bees don’t. Which, call him old-fashioned, but the ability to sleep and dream, even if it makes him vulnerable, is part of what he sees as making him human.
That gets an odd look—maybe he’s supposed to just use the museum and vault?—but no comment, so it’s probably as good a choice for him to say as any.
“I believe I have time to finish this,” Sonnac indicates his drink, “...and after that, duty, unfortunately, calls.”
He does take his time, passing along a few book recommendations (“not,” he states with a slight grimace, “Dan Brown, though I suppose the inaccuracies wouldn’t be so irritating to someone in a different profession”), speculating on the latest Illuminati disinformation campaign (“probably the posts about artifacts from Atlantis, as if we wouldn’t have all heard the second another Third Age artifact was discovered”, to which it’s all Desmond can do not to groan) and comparing local breweries (“it depends on my mood, but as complex as my job happens to be, it’s refreshing to just indulge in something simple”) before he has to leave.
“You up for a spar?” Desmond asks the second Sonnac leaves, and Shaun swallows hard.
“...As urgent as making sure you can use your powers is, perhaps we should wait until I’m fully sober,” he manages, though he looks slightly cheerful. Possibly because he’d been expecting Desmond to get mad at them for hiding this. Or something.
Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Honestly, Desmond might've expected this a little sooner if he hadn't gotten the feeling that probably at least one Machiavelli-like figure was second guessing everything and disagreeing with every decision somewhere in the Templar leadership.
Word Count: 1482
Rating: Teen
Rebecca falls silent mid-sentence, which is uncommon enough that, paired with the rest of the Horned God going quiet, tells Desmond something’s up before the man arrives at their booth. Shaun’s looking a little shifty and would probably be terrible at undercover work, Desmond guesses. Unless he spends most of the time complaining. He’s good at that. He could probably make that look natural. Or—no, maybe he’d be decent at it in cases where he doesn’t care, and he doesn’t directly care about a lot of people. Abstractly and theoretically, yes. Which tells Desmond this is probably one of the Templar higher-ups, they knew he was coming, and were instructed not to tell him. And Shaun feels guilty about it, and Rebecca probably doesn’t. She’d always been a little better at the whole pragmatic thing, no matter how much Shaun tried.
It’s a good thing Desmond has been training practically his whole life for keeping a straight face, even if he was hardly the best of them at it, because otherwise he’d be giving something about his snooping mission away. He’s doing his best to not feel guilty about that, because among other things Rebecca and Shaun are, knowing them, absolutely doing the same exact kind of thing behind his back.
He’s Black, which says good things about their recent inclusiveness efforts, and his suit is immaculate, but the earring helps him not look completely out of place. Despite all the whispering.
“Richard Sonnac,” he introduces himself, setting down the beer and sliding into the empty spot next to Rebecca. When he holds his hand out for a handshake, he goes for ‘respectful’ and doesn’t try to make it into some sort of contest. “Normally we’d be holding this meeting in my office, but recent events have made even the best of us rather more paranoid than usual, so even escorted you entering Templar Hall was ruled out of the question.” Unless they're being cagey, that means they probably don't know about his scouting, then. “ I wanted to express my apologies for the attack in person. We pride ourselves on London being the hub of the Secret World, and events, as of late, have not been encouraging. The surveillance had even mostly been for your protection, although I appreciate your tolerance in such matters.” He’s also straightforward and genuine. Desmond likes this guy. It doesn’t necessarily mean he isn’t a bastard or plotting Desmond’s death, but in a place where everybody’s been acting like this is one massive spy thriller, one guy actually mentioning stuff about behind-the-scenes and not trying to prove his superiority is a bit refreshing.
“Thank you. Any leads?” he asks.
“Desmond,” Shaun hisses, kicking him under the table, but he doesn’t even flinch.
Sonnac, however, doesn’t seem insulted. “None, I’m afraid, which I fear is the other reason why this meeting has been postponed as long as it has. I was hoping to be able to bring you some fresh lead to prove to you that you will be a safe guest while you remain in London, but I unfortunately must inform you that is not the case. What I can tell you, whether you believe me or not, is that this was not sanctioned by the Templars, though that, of course, does not rule out a lone agent gone rogue. What we do know, thanks to you, is that this likely was the work of one of the members of the Council of Venice, since they were able to flee into Agartha. Only those who have been Bee-touched have been given the Agartha anchors by the Guardians, so that narrows the pool of suspects, if not, sadly, that far, since quite a few have been visited by the Buzzing. The Council itself is taking interest in your case. Chelsea, by the way, is recovering quite well.”
Desmond weighs this for a moment. Sure, this all might be a ploy to figure out how much he knows, but if he’s lying it’s stuff he already knows, and if he’s not, they actually could get somewhere if they work...well, he was going to say ‘together’, but it’s more along the lines of ‘in parallel’. “I’m not actually entirely convinced it’s a Bee responsible.”
Shaun looks shocked, Rebecca looks not-shocked, and Sonnac looks intrigued. “Please, do continue.”
“When the attack failed, he ran. He didn’t go for a second shot, which would have made sure that I went down and couldn’t follow him, and he seemed panicked. Shaun pointed out maybe he was hoping to take me out and then do something while I was out, but the Agartha Well’s pretty close, so he wouldn’t have a lot of time. If he’d actually been planning on doing something after, it’d make more sense to lure me somewhere so he actually had the time while my spirit was out. And sure, maybe he was trying to hide who he was working for, but the brief glimpse I caught, he didn’t look like he was in uniform, and if he was a Bee, it wouldn’t be long before he’d be back. The way he moved, he panicked. Like he’d have something to lose if I was armed. To me, he seemed like a normal mercenary or hitman out of his league.” He’s been thinking about this a lot, and anything he has, it doesn’t make sense, not as presented anyway.
“All very good points.” Sonnac sighs, taking a sip of the beer. “And, unfortunately, rendering this ever more of a mystery. Rebecca here has been scouring the internet looking for a payment for services rendered, and has found nothing. Of course, it’s entirely possible our would-be killer never got paid, considering he failed his contract, in which case tracing the entire thing becomes that much harder. Either he or his employers covered his tracks magically. If it’s a matter of tracing the Agartha anchor, that is likewise a tedious task. While the source of them is unknown, according to the Conductor, there’s more than a few, so a theft would be likely to go unnoticed. If a Bee handed one off to someone else, it’s not as if there’s some sort of magical alarm. We can experiment to see if an ordinary person can use one, which would be useful information.”
Which, actually, raises a good question. “Do you think he was set up to fail?”
Rebecca breaks in. “Oh, like a message, you mean? Sure, that seems like it’d fit what we know. I can look into that.” At Sonnac’s raised eyebrow, she adds, “Sorry, Boss.”
“It’s possible, but I would hate to say anything with certainty at this juncture.” Fair enough. “What I can tell you is that we have managed to get permission for something else. We have, shall we say, renovated a small area under our jurisdiction to serve as a private training ground. It is not as extensive or reinforced as the one in Templar Hall, but it should prove adequate for your use. Shaun has been anxious to provide you with the sort of instruction your faction handler should have ensured when you were first recruited, particularly since you are in proven danger. You are also free to use the space as you see fit; consider it a gift of hospitality.”
“Again, I appreciate it. I wouldn’t mind having somewhere to stash my stuff.” He doesn’t mention ‘sleep’, as he gets the feeling the ‘other’ Bees don’t. Which, call him old-fashioned, but the ability to sleep and dream, even if it makes him vulnerable, is part of what he sees as making him human.
That gets an odd look—maybe he’s supposed to just use the museum and vault?—but no comment, so it’s probably as good a choice for him to say as any.
“I believe I have time to finish this,” Sonnac indicates his drink, “...and after that, duty, unfortunately, calls.”
He does take his time, passing along a few book recommendations (“not,” he states with a slight grimace, “Dan Brown, though I suppose the inaccuracies wouldn’t be so irritating to someone in a different profession”), speculating on the latest Illuminati disinformation campaign (“probably the posts about artifacts from Atlantis, as if we wouldn’t have all heard the second another Third Age artifact was discovered”, to which it’s all Desmond can do not to groan) and comparing local breweries (“it depends on my mood, but as complex as my job happens to be, it’s refreshing to just indulge in something simple”) before he has to leave.
“You up for a spar?” Desmond asks the second Sonnac leaves, and Shaun swallows hard.
“...As urgent as making sure you can use your powers is, perhaps we should wait until I’m fully sober,” he manages, though he looks slightly cheerful. Possibly because he’d been expecting Desmond to get mad at them for hiding this. Or something.
