A Trace of Espionage

[madimpossibledreamer]

Happy Halloween!

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Investigation continues into the suspicious man at the airport.
Word Count: 805
Rating: Teen

 

         “Hey.” Nate’s quiet, which is probably a good idea just in case ‘Ellis’ is listening out.
         Desmond glances down. “Can it wait a bit? We’re in the middle of something.” They’re on the fence, pretty literally, and he’s worried Lydia might take the chance to show off. Fortunately, it doesn’t sound like it’s urgent, as Nate just waits patiently and the young woman does actually show a little restraint. For once. He’s pretty sure Rukh is as shocked as he is. “Okay, we’re good to go.” He still keeps his voice low.
         “Not much of an update,” Nate begins, sounding surprisingly out of breath before he gets interrupted and there’s a fight on the other end. Given the sound of stone against stone and sledgehammer hitting stone, Desmond’s money is one one of those rock golems. “What we’ve got so far,” he continues conversationally after it’s over, with his breathing the only sign that anything even happened, “…is that our fake drove a ways out into the middle of nowhere.” Which...is a lot further than the range Desmond’s used to, but he wouldn’t be surprised, here, if they were using magic to augment it. Which joins the many sentences he’d never expected to say or think in his lifetime. “The only reason you’d come this far is to dump the body and maybe other evidence. We still haven’t found signs of the shallow grave, though; keep getting ambushed by golems.”
         Desmond considers this briefly. That’s pretty much good enough for him, and if they’re getting ambushed, maybe ‘Ellis’ had something to do with it? “Think that’s good enough? Do you need backup?”
         Rukh fluffs up, and yeah okay it’ll still put Desmond on edge, but if it’s needed at minimum he can send his bird.
         Nate actually laughs. “No and no, actually. This is America. Innocent until proven guilty; besides, the other evidence might let us know who he’s working for.”
         “Good point. Keep me posted,” he tells his Agent, who, by the sound of it, gets into yet another fight. Which means it’s time for him and Lydia to follow up, too.
         “Hey, Ellis, you there?” This time, he feels like announcing himself, because that way the fake mechanic doesn’t have the excuse to shoot them, and closer to the door there’s more cover.
         ‘Ellis’ is...friendlier, this time. He didn’t respond, or apparently hear them, too distracted by taking practice swings with a baseball bat in between fiddling with the radio. He even menaces them with the bat only briefly. He doesn’t even get out the gun. “You weren’t kidding about being a quiet son of a bitch, were you?” he asks. He also happens to still be the same bright red, but after their first meeting Desmond hadn’t expected that to change.
         “Sorry, I tried to warn you.” He’s doing a better job of pretending this time around. He’s really not used to trying to placate someone, but he’s not getting Lydia shot because he decided to be a smartass.
         When he gets going on one of his monologues, Desmond doesn’t really want to interrupt, in case he loses his temper or maybe gives some sort of important clue. “Still, a fella gets used to the quiet. Sure, there’s the helicopters outside, but the zombies and the blue monsters screamin’ out there make for a lullaby, after a while. When the radio’s busted, not much you can do to switch it up a bit. Your friend mentioned evacuating to town; they got working radios up there?”
         “I don’t think so.” He hadn’t asked, but the Sheriff hadn’t been using it to try to get help and there’s no music playing to try to bring some sense of civilization and improve morale, so he has to assume.
         ‘Ellis’ sighs. “Shame. Any sort of company’d be nice, in all this. I’d have fixed it myself, but my tools disappeared from the hangar just like my pilot, and a man of my color ain’t marching up to a private army with guns demanding to get his property back. Not getting fixed with a wire hangar and some duct tape. Guess you folks have work to be getting back to, though. Say hi to the other two for me.”
         “Sorry about having to leave.” They’re just waved off, though, and Desmond’s a little surprised that even the one who seemingly makes a game of trying to tick everyone off is actually being respectful—but then, even if she makes fun of him sometimes, she seems to actually listen to his instincts, so even she probably got that it’s dangerous to provoke this guy.
         Once they walk far enough toward the gate, Lydia turns to Desmond, a mischievous look in her eye. “So we’re fixing it with a wire hangar and duct tape, right?”
         He has to laugh.