Voice of the Void

[madimpossibledreamer]

I did not remember that the Zombie Lore includes the sentence “It is weird how much it is not weird.” Which is practically Desmond’s mantra in this series. Synchronicity is wild, y’all. That is...a plate of shrimp if I have ever seen a plate of shrimp.
(desmond’s doing weird stealth things like jumping precisely between cars to not set off the alarms that I have never pulled off before HELLO)

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: At this point, Desmond is beginning to rethink getting distracted.
Word Count: 990
Rating: Teen

        It’s kind of gruesome, running around and doing this. Not like Assassins are above looting from the dead, but it’s something entirely different appropriating cameras from businesses and people that will never need them again. Abandoned gas stations are always kind of creepy (he’d seen a few as he hitchhiked and walked out to New York). The same kind of weird as seeing the decay in buildings that had already kind of been crumbling and in ruins in Ezio’s time. Like the unease seeing the changes time brought to Monteriggioni. Collecting the camera from the roof of the gas station is child’s play, and it’s easy enough to jump from, too. He doesn’t even have to do a leap of faith, because it’s not that tall. It’s kind of a shame, because it’d be nice to have something to get out those jittery nerves, but then he’s having to fight a bunch of zombies again, and fighting is always a little distracting even if it’ll probably mean he’s more keyed up after.
         He considers picking up one of the bikes scattered around, abandoned just like the cars, but on a close inspection, they’re all trashed pretty badly, and he’s not wheeling it around until he can get the parts to fix one. Sadly. Zombies have no sense of taste, honestly. And he’d think about putting it in his bag, because something’s going on with that, it shouldn’t fit as much as it does, but, well. He hasn’t figured out how that’s working, yet. Best not to break it at least until he gets how to fix that. If he changes his mind, he’s pretty sure they’re not going anywhere, anyway.
         At least avoiding setting off the alarms when he doesn’t want to is easier. Even when they’re pretty much blocking the entire street, at points.
         The next location that had been circled in the phonebook Bannerman had pointed him to was a mining museum, which is on a taller roof and will be fun, but—
         Hmm.
         There’s a gold feeling in what looks like a diner the next street over. Carefully, he takes a look with Eagle Vision, because he absolutely does not want to get surprised again, and—huh. That’s weird.
         He doesn’t see a figure, or an item. It’s more like someone’s put a gold filter over the building, but there’s more—
         the absence-thing is in there. Which means that yeah, he probably should go check that out too, but he’s stopping looking with anything more than normal vision right now because he’s already learned that’s a terrible idea.
         Fighting them, so far, hasn’t really been a problem, and other than extending the Jeopardy marathon, it probably won’t hurt too much to take a slightly longer detour, so he does.
         The diner is pretty much what he’d expect, small and cozy with an older style of decoration. There’s no abandoned food on the tables, no plates left out, almost ridiculously clean, but some of the stools are toppled over, like people were interrupted somehow after all. Strangely, there’s still music playing, even if it’s a little broken and punctuated by static. It’s a minor miracle anything’s still got power out here in the first place. The sheriff’s office has generators—well-tended ones, by a guy nicknamed Moose, who seems to be doing a lot of the technical fixes—but this place? Desmond’s looking around cautiously, trying to figure out what that says about the outbreak—was it quick, or was it slow—when a zombie wearing an apron lunges at him across the counter from where she’d been bending down...eating someone, it looks like. He only gets a glimpse in the split second before he decides screw it, this is not ideal conditions to keep using the gun. Fortunately zombies aren’t any more ready for a Hidden Blade than humans are, and she does stagger back against the counter snarling and drooling blood. It’s easy not to look at the damage he’d done to the eye when he kicks her back over the counter and follows that up with a couple shots. It’s only in the aftermath, when the ringing in his ears has cleared and he’s aware of his own quiet breathing again, that he realizes the music stopped entirely.
         And then, when the static comes back, sounding creepily like a laugh, he puts it together. It’s not that it’d been a coincidence he’d heard Not-Clay near a radio in Agartha, and not necessarily that Not-Clay is in his head, either. And it explains why they’d all felt off in The Horned God when something went wrong with the music. Just like Clay, Not-Clay is stuck in some sort of data form—but that doesn’t mean he’s powerless, either. Not by a long shot.
         Ssssssssssssssss—I am the pirate signal—let me in.
         He shakes his head. He’s not going to become a puppet ever again. Something about this feels like the gold spots he’d found after the nightmare, but it’s definitely not Not-Lucy talking.
         The voice isn’t leaving him alone, though, feeling like a physical weight around him now, heavy and oppressive. Like the fog, but worse. Are they related, or do they just work in the same way?
         Thought I should introduce myself. I’m the message. I’m John. If you’re gonna be a regular lissssssssssstener, we should get to know each other, don’t you think? Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen –
         what the hell—sure, that could just be a coincidence, but Desmond is feeling dizzy and lightheaded and maybe this is a very good time to try out that shield-spell Shaun had demonstrated, even if he’s not too much of a fan of the whole blood magic thing—
         No, don’t adjust that dial, Chuck, just keep your eyes open and your ears peeled. See you around.
         And then it’s absolutely silent, empty, as the radio or whatever the hell that was cuts out, and Desmond’s left shaking.