Kindness That Can Kill
Nov. 28th, 2024 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerHappy Thanksgiving for those of you who celebrate it (in the US!) and for the rest of you I hope you have a great day anyway.
Technically, positionally, it would have made a lot of sense for this to happen right after the mind control incident, but Desmond kind of hightailed it out of the region and just spent time going absolutely everywhere else to the point I forgot I hadn’t done these quests.
I also forgot about all the ARG-type stuff with this game. ‘Course, I didn’t look into all of it myself, but I was surprised to find that at least one of the investigation missions was solved from somebody’s blog post about the author I mentioned earlier (and, shock, I found one of his books listed on Google Books even though to be clear this is a fake book and doesn’t actually exist as far as I know).
aaaand they’re taking him to the tunnels. Again. He has no trauma from this, no, absolutely not—it’s not wanting to load the tunnels again, huh.
Cassie tends to be a fan favorite from what I’ve seen, but Desmond, uh. Desmond is trying his best not to dissociate. He’d be more open to at least flirting otherwise.
Most of the dialogue is paraphrased, but I did lift the ‘fucking Morninglight hippies’ straight from Cassie’s dialogue.
Finally done with Kingsmouth!
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Before they leave Kingsmouth, they have to check in on the Morninglight again.
Word Count: 3443
Rating: Teen
Approaching the tents, it doesn’t take Desmond too long to spot the dead body glowing softly yellow in the bushes, and surprisingly, it’s actually Chelsea who spots it next, pointing and tapping his arm to get his attention without actually being loud and maybe giving away their position. Novices really grow up fast, and she’s actually pretty good at learning by observation.
Nate, who’s already been here once, points out the spot he’d used to spy, and that’s how Desmond gets an in-person glimpse of Che Garcia for the first time. Who might look like a hippie, but is simultaneously the most laid-back and on-edge guy Desmond’s ever seen, but it’s reminding him of something, too. He’s smoking even as he’s swearing and laying into one of the underlings about delivering a package for—for B. Beaumont? Gotta be, it’s pretty unlikely that there’s anyone else higher than Che Garcia around.
...The informant padre—er, Giovanni had Ezio bring the letter to, the one who was paranoid about him being followed. There’s an amount of that ‘trying to pretend everything’s normal while being incredibly shifty’ attitude going on there. And he confirms that he knows about the wards keeping them safe from everything else going on right now, though it doesn’t sound like he’s the one who put them there, which at least makes the idea that it’s Beaumont behind those, too, even more likely. And he’s definitely in the know about Beaumont’s plan—maybe not the specifics, maybe not the whole of the Illuminati, but Che definitely knows about the plan to reset the world, because he’s describing them, vaguely, in connection with change and doom and mutation. That’ll be interesting for Shaun and Rebecca.
The real question is, is Beaumont himself going to be taking the package? If he is, that’s pretty dangerous, and he’s not exactly comfortable, yet, with having all of them, particularly the full group, getting too close, so...Nate had done a pretty good job. They hadn’t actually worked out hand signals beforehand, but they seem to be doing a fair enough job anyway, if the slightly pouty expression Chelsea gives him before settling down to watch is any indication, and Lydia joins her after a moment of hesitation—which, thinking about it, might be a problem in of itself, but at least if they’re not talking and giving away their position, they’re not going to be arguing.
So they follow, quickly, quietly, Rukh taking off with the only sound a flap of his wings, quietly flying ahead and circling back every so often. Keeping an eye on things from above. And then almost as soon as they get near the tunnel, a wendigo just jumps the guy from out of the rocks and runs off. Well. He’s never seen one steal a package before. (Look at him talking like this is something normal that he’s used to these days.)
Nate hesitates, but with a nod he’s left alone to start healing the messenger (who’s at least out of it, given that his leg looks half-gone, and it’s not like Desmond can’t take one on his own even though he doesn’t particularly feel like it, so yeah, he’s off).
The wendigo is a pain in the ass, as most wendigo are, running away at the first sign of pain and making Desmond scramble over rocks and get his jeans wet, again, when it runs down to the little river or whatever this is, although at least it’s not like it’s too deep this time or that he has to wade through much.
The package itself is...eugh, picking it up when it’s all covered with wendigo saliva is nasty, but he has to know, so yeah, he picks it up and concentrates. Scrying materials, not the first, not the last, and not the way the sorceror will get through, but he will get through, inevitable as the sweeping tide. He’ll get his beginning, but Desmond can stop the end, if he’s fast, clever, strong enough. If he sees enough.
And then he blinks, feeling a headache just starting to build behind his eyes, just a little bit, and yeah, okay. That pretty much confirms it. That was him tapping into the Calculations, again, the endless rush of knowledge all at once overloading his brain. But, uh, for better or worse it wasn’t as bad as last time, and this definitely felt more controlled, so...go him?
But he’s still slightly dazed, enough he doesn’t notice immediately when the wounded Morninglight messenger limps up behind him until he takes the package away. “Thanks for this, man. Really saved my bacon.” He hands it off to someone, and, well, Desmond hadn’t actually planned on getting it delivered even if it wasn’t that big a deal, but he doesn’t get too much of a say in the matter. “You wanna come back with me? Pretty sure Che’s gonna want to reward you, and, well.” He swallows. “I could try to lie and say I did it on my own, but Che would know, you know? Che always knows.”
He spots Nate looking concerned in the bushes, but he nods, trying not to look too weird about it, suddenly very aware of the charm Shaun had sent in his pocket and the protection talisman he’s wearing. Assuming Beaumont hadn’t warned them about him—and he’s not too sold on the idea the sorceror would, because he’d been pretty insistent on shutting the woman he was sleeping with out of the picture and seemed more like a loner—this isn’t going to be too dangerous. Though he’s going to keep on his toes, and he’s grateful to see Nate adapt quickly and follow, because having someone following and keeping an eye on things will make him feel a whole hell of a lot better.
And, like. He’s pretty sure they don’t know. Cassie immediately starts flirting with him, and at least he manages not to look disgusted or throw up, so that’s a plus.
“Come on, you don’t have to try to have sex with every single fuckin’ hero that comes through. We’ve got more to offer than a simple lay,” Che tells her, and she shrugs.
“Aww, but heroes are just so manly. Seeing all that power used to help, well, it just gets a gal’s mind thinking on the...virtues of being a damsel in distress.” It’s...kind of a really bad play with the absolute worst actors. They’re not selling this at all. And it’s not like—he gets being horny, but he barely feels safe enough to sleep, let alone let his guard down like that. Not when it smells of such death and decay—and yeah, sure, the wards probably help with that, but it still doesn’t feel safe. Though maybe that’s the presence of the Morninglight rather than any fault of the wards. She’s pretty enough, prettier now that he’s actually getting a decent look at her, but she’s not his type and he can’t even look at her without remembering the siren song. On her side he’s not sure if she’s doing this whole seduction-for-the-cause thing by her own choice to begin with. At least it doesn’t seem like Che is taking advantage, because he doesn’t seem interested in her. At all.
And then they make this big show of having a whispered conference that they’ve walked a few steps away for and are pretending that it’s not a stage whisper about her having to pick up another delivery all by her lonesome. Do they...does this usually work on people? Do others fall for this? Chelsea could do a better job and she’s only started learning the basics. They aren’t actually arguing about whether she’s going on her own or not. They’re trying to push him into volunteering to go with her.
Wait—no, they absolutely do. That’s what gets good kids like Danny signing up for things they aren’t ready for. That’s why Mack had to warn them all what to watch out for before they hit the clubs. And sure, maybe there’s a lot of things about William’s particular Assassin upbringing that weren’t great, but just that little hint of caution, that’s definitely helpful.
And maybe he should suggest he goes with like they want him to, but he’s really curious as to how far they’re going to push it, so...he pretends like he doesn’t hear them. Because she had pulled Che aside. It’s blatantly Not His Business.
“Hey, hero. You want to extend those heroics a bit?” Che asks, when it becomes clear he’s not falling for it.
“What do you have in mind?” he asks, open but not too eager, and then Cassie walks up to him, close enough to touch.
“You, me, some good deeds, a date in the tunnels? Though it’ll only go as far as you want, handsome.” She leans forward, like she’s going to kiss him, and then moves back last minute. It’s probably supposed to be teasing.
“Sure.” He’s pretty sure that him sounding breathless is being misinterpreted by absolutely everyone, but the part of him that is doing its best not to panic does take a little smug pride in the fact that he’s managing to pull it off where they just aren’t. And he takes comfort in the fact that Nate, at least, knows where he is at the moment and is following. He doesn’t see Chelsea or Lydia, but then, he can’t be too obvious in looking around for them, either. He’s hoping they found a good vantage point.
“So, like...how does one go about becoming a hero, anyway? I’m guessing there wasn’t a job listing in the local paper.” That’s...interesting. Maybe she’s looking for someone to take revenge against the sorceror, or something? Not like he’s going to overplay his hand either way.
He shrugs. “Just kind of fell into it, I guess. I’d just been trying to live a normal life, keep my head down.” And that’s true enough. “What about you?”
Her smile is probably meant to tempt. “Ohhh, are you asking if I’m open to leaving? Sure, if the right man comes along. I got promised all sorts of things, but I’m not a patient kind of gal, and I’m getting so tired of waiting.” She reaches out and strokes a finger down his arm to get his attention; he tries not to jump like he’s been electrocuted. “Speaking of instant gratification, we’re here, hot stuff.”
The door, Desmond tells himself, is not going to burn him. At least this time he’s not half out of his mind when he’s trying to open it, and he can’t afford to hesitate too long and set off her alarms, so...he opens it, gesturing for her to go through, and she giggles.
“Oh, a gentleman. Thank you, sir.” She’s even trying to walk seductively. He concentrates on trying to note the details—like the body, the one that was here last time? It’s gone now. And she’s frowning. At first, he thinks it’s because somebody removed the body, but then she explains. “Someone’s been fiddling with the security in here. Used to be just the spot to get...away.”
Given that the last time he was here there were lasers and he doesn’t see anything new, he’s a little skeptical, but maybe she’s spotting something he isn’t. The back of his leg twinges. It’s healed, of course, but for this moment it absolutely feels like it isn’t. “I should be able to handle that.” Although he’s going to avoid showing off too much in case she picks up something she shouldn’t. He’d rather all of these people underestimate him.
“Oh, I look forward to that,” Cassie purrs and starts guiding him through the tunnels.
If he forgets his particular company and where he is right now, it’s actually kind of fun. The cameras are red, but avoiding them is more instinct than anything, at this point, and there are more lasers. And then they spot more Phoenicians.
His mind whirls even as Cassie critiques the purple uniforms. And then figures, you know, hey, why not check ‘em out with Eagle Vision?
They’re not red. Which probably means they’re not holding a grudge? They’d said they weren’t in the text, pinkie promise, but Kirsten Geary had said the same thing right before threatening to kill him, temporarily, so you’d have to forgive them for not taking their word for it. And...weirdly enough, Cassie isn’t either. She’s not blue. She’s gold, but his brain is insisting it’s the gold of important, not the gold of target, not yet anyway, and he’s not pushing the interpretation of the Calculations to work out what it means by that exactly.
“Maybe the laser grid would help?” Cassie suggests, and it’s a thought, but he really doesn’t want to fry them alive and, well.
It’s one thing for an Assassin to be calmly discussing murder. But it’s a lot more common even from civilians in this world than he’s really comfortable with, and it’s not—from an Assassin, he’d be pretty sure they understood the gravity of the situation, the weight of taking a life.
So, again, he uses Eagle Vision, and interestingly enough, the buttons glow at the precise right moments he needs to press them during one of the Phoenician’s patrolling walks. Enough to herd them into a room, trapped behind a laser grid in front of the door, and then it’s just a matter of sprinting over and slamming it in their faces. He’ll have to let them out later.
She looks a little bemused, startled out of the bloodthirst a bit. “I wasn’t expecting that.” It’s not exactly a complaint, and it’s not long before she goes back to the flirting, but it makes him wonder. Wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s more to her than meets the eye. But then he’s having to choose a room to go through, and he chooses the wrong one and has to fight a Draug solo for the first time in a while and doesn’t have time to think about it too much. The appreciative clapping is a bit distracting, though. And then there’s a room with a path through some electrified floor, and that’s way too easy, though Cassie confirms that ‘B’ was the one who set it up but “wasn’t reckoning with someone so talented”. The room beyond that has a table with a package behind some lasers and that’s glowing bright gold, so bright it’s almost blinding. Instantly, he knows that Beaumont absolutely can’t get his hands on that.
Cassie mutters about trust issues as he sets about figuring out the correct combination of levers to pull to deactivate the lasers—easy, with Eagle Vision—and then his vision whites out and he falls. The pain doesn’t hit immediately, but once it does he can feel every muscle screaming, but there’s nothing he can do. It’s like when he was stuck in the Animus, unable to get out, unable to get back in his body or get it to move, except it fucking hurts.
“Guess B’s not the only one with trust issues, Desmond, sorry,” Cassie whispers, too close, and when she brushes up against him to whisper in his ear it feels like it’s burning his skin off and all he can do is whimper. “Can’t run the risk of this falling in the hands of those fucking Morninglight hippies. Don’t worry, the spell will wear off soon after I’m gone. It’s like a taser. You can walk it off, hero.” It’s not mocking or condescending but it sure as hell feels like it. “I’ll be seeing you again, later. Do your best to stay alive until then. By the way, that bird of yours? Cute little fella. Why don’t you keep that bracelet as a souvenir? I don’t need it anymore, and it’s nice to think of you getting to keep a piece of me.”
By the sound of her footsteps, she does actually run out the door. As she promised, the second he can’t hear her boots anymore his muscles start spasming and he starts coughing, desperately trying to get breath into lungs but it’s not enough, it never seems to be enough. And there’s another couple sets of running footsteps and he tries to get up desperately only his legs and arms won’t cooperate. It’s not until he hears the swoop of wings that he relaxes a little as an insistent feathery body pushes itself into the side of his neck. That doesn’t hurt. It’s more grounding than anything.
“Desmond, God, are you okay? We saw Cassie come out without you and we got really worried—” Chelsea. Helping him up, careful, careful, and all he’s thinking is that this is nice. Still stinks of death, and burning, and the smell of the sea from the Draug and blood all around, but this time he’s not alone.
“Nate tried to follow blondie, but I’m pretty sure she got away,” Lydia adds, voice more quiet and subdued than the uncaring act she’s trying to portray.
“Phoenicians,” he gasps, trying to help with Chelsea hauling him out and accidentally realizing after the headache intensifies that he’s trying to do that with the Calculations. He immediately stops. Though he is doing better than he had been, now. “Trapped them.”
Chelsea and Lydia exchange glances. “The ones that were trying to shoot us?” Lydia clarifies. And yeah, maybe it’s a good idea to at least be a little careful about it, even though he doesn’t plan on just leaving them either.
“Yeah, maybe from a distance? Spells?” His breath is coming back. And it’s not as bad, but he decides that yeah he absolutely hates this too.
They’ve made it to the exit when Lydia rejoins them again. “They’re gone. Opened the door, and whoosh, gone.” She sighs. “I need a drink.”
Maybe them working together, even reluctantly, was good for something, because Chelsea just frowns in Lydia’s direction and doesn’t launch into the lecture. Or maybe that’s just because she’s worried about him. Rukh still hasn’t moved from where he’s plastered himself against Desmond’s neck.
“I can walk,” he protests.
Without looking at him, or at each other, they both instantly respond with “No” and “Nope”, Lydia actually taking his other arm even though they all know she’s not going to be able to handle most of his weight.
“So, is she working for Beaumont, or…?” Lydia asks, trying to distract him, showing him what has to be a Phoenician crest, a sailboat on purple, probably left behind as some sort of message, and he just snorts and shakes his head, because yeah, fine, whatever. At least when he’d had to move after experiencing Ezio for the first time he’d been able to make jokes about being born yesterday. Other than maybe getting an idea that this is more complicated than he’d known (like that was in any way new, really) and that they maybe had an even better chance against ridiculous odds because their enemy didn’t seem as united as they’d previously thought, he couldn’t see much of an upside to this one.
“No idea. She didn’t even bother gloating about the Illuminati getting their hands on another artifact or whatever, and I doubt she’s Phoenician or she wouldn’t have wanted them dead.”
“Let’s get him to the motel—it seemed pretty safe,” Chelsea suggests, and hey, there’s some of that initiative he’d been hoping to see more of from her. And Lydia, for once, doesn’t argue, either, just shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything to her. It’s still probably better than underneath the car—not like he’s going to mention that.
Nate comes back, apologetic about losing Cassie, not that any of them really expected anything different, and teleports them all back down south near the Agartha entrance—apparently, it’s the tunnel down there that leads to the “Savage Coast”.
And they do have to fight through some zombies trying to come through the tunnel, but at this point Desmond’s feeling good enough he can at least join in even if he’s aching all over and wants nothing more than some food, sleep, and a shower, even if he hasn’t quite decided the order yet. Given that there’s actual beds in the motel, though, never mind the ominous glowing cracks in the earth and what are apparently literal hellspikes cracking out of the ground, though, the choice is pretty much made for him. He doesn’t even bother talking to the war journalist who seems oddly jazzed about being so close to Hell, and he’s out pretty quickly.
Technically, positionally, it would have made a lot of sense for this to happen right after the mind control incident, but Desmond kind of hightailed it out of the region and just spent time going absolutely everywhere else to the point I forgot I hadn’t done these quests.
I also forgot about all the ARG-type stuff with this game. ‘Course, I didn’t look into all of it myself, but I was surprised to find that at least one of the investigation missions was solved from somebody’s blog post about the author I mentioned earlier (and, shock, I found one of his books listed on Google Books even though to be clear this is a fake book and doesn’t actually exist as far as I know).
aaaand they’re taking him to the tunnels. Again. He has no trauma from this, no, absolutely not—it’s not wanting to load the tunnels again, huh.
Cassie tends to be a fan favorite from what I’ve seen, but Desmond, uh. Desmond is trying his best not to dissociate. He’d be more open to at least flirting otherwise.
Most of the dialogue is paraphrased, but I did lift the ‘fucking Morninglight hippies’ straight from Cassie’s dialogue.
Finally done with Kingsmouth!
Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Before they leave Kingsmouth, they have to check in on the Morninglight again.
Word Count: 3443
Rating: Teen
Approaching the tents, it doesn’t take Desmond too long to spot the dead body glowing softly yellow in the bushes, and surprisingly, it’s actually Chelsea who spots it next, pointing and tapping his arm to get his attention without actually being loud and maybe giving away their position. Novices really grow up fast, and she’s actually pretty good at learning by observation.
Nate, who’s already been here once, points out the spot he’d used to spy, and that’s how Desmond gets an in-person glimpse of Che Garcia for the first time. Who might look like a hippie, but is simultaneously the most laid-back and on-edge guy Desmond’s ever seen, but it’s reminding him of something, too. He’s smoking even as he’s swearing and laying into one of the underlings about delivering a package for—for B. Beaumont? Gotta be, it’s pretty unlikely that there’s anyone else higher than Che Garcia around.
...The informant padre—er, Giovanni had Ezio bring the letter to, the one who was paranoid about him being followed. There’s an amount of that ‘trying to pretend everything’s normal while being incredibly shifty’ attitude going on there. And he confirms that he knows about the wards keeping them safe from everything else going on right now, though it doesn’t sound like he’s the one who put them there, which at least makes the idea that it’s Beaumont behind those, too, even more likely. And he’s definitely in the know about Beaumont’s plan—maybe not the specifics, maybe not the whole of the Illuminati, but Che definitely knows about the plan to reset the world, because he’s describing them, vaguely, in connection with change and doom and mutation. That’ll be interesting for Shaun and Rebecca.
The real question is, is Beaumont himself going to be taking the package? If he is, that’s pretty dangerous, and he’s not exactly comfortable, yet, with having all of them, particularly the full group, getting too close, so...Nate had done a pretty good job. They hadn’t actually worked out hand signals beforehand, but they seem to be doing a fair enough job anyway, if the slightly pouty expression Chelsea gives him before settling down to watch is any indication, and Lydia joins her after a moment of hesitation—which, thinking about it, might be a problem in of itself, but at least if they’re not talking and giving away their position, they’re not going to be arguing.
So they follow, quickly, quietly, Rukh taking off with the only sound a flap of his wings, quietly flying ahead and circling back every so often. Keeping an eye on things from above. And then almost as soon as they get near the tunnel, a wendigo just jumps the guy from out of the rocks and runs off. Well. He’s never seen one steal a package before. (Look at him talking like this is something normal that he’s used to these days.)
Nate hesitates, but with a nod he’s left alone to start healing the messenger (who’s at least out of it, given that his leg looks half-gone, and it’s not like Desmond can’t take one on his own even though he doesn’t particularly feel like it, so yeah, he’s off).
The wendigo is a pain in the ass, as most wendigo are, running away at the first sign of pain and making Desmond scramble over rocks and get his jeans wet, again, when it runs down to the little river or whatever this is, although at least it’s not like it’s too deep this time or that he has to wade through much.
The package itself is...eugh, picking it up when it’s all covered with wendigo saliva is nasty, but he has to know, so yeah, he picks it up and concentrates. Scrying materials, not the first, not the last, and not the way the sorceror will get through, but he will get through, inevitable as the sweeping tide. He’ll get his beginning, but Desmond can stop the end, if he’s fast, clever, strong enough. If he sees enough.
And then he blinks, feeling a headache just starting to build behind his eyes, just a little bit, and yeah, okay. That pretty much confirms it. That was him tapping into the Calculations, again, the endless rush of knowledge all at once overloading his brain. But, uh, for better or worse it wasn’t as bad as last time, and this definitely felt more controlled, so...go him?
But he’s still slightly dazed, enough he doesn’t notice immediately when the wounded Morninglight messenger limps up behind him until he takes the package away. “Thanks for this, man. Really saved my bacon.” He hands it off to someone, and, well, Desmond hadn’t actually planned on getting it delivered even if it wasn’t that big a deal, but he doesn’t get too much of a say in the matter. “You wanna come back with me? Pretty sure Che’s gonna want to reward you, and, well.” He swallows. “I could try to lie and say I did it on my own, but Che would know, you know? Che always knows.”
He spots Nate looking concerned in the bushes, but he nods, trying not to look too weird about it, suddenly very aware of the charm Shaun had sent in his pocket and the protection talisman he’s wearing. Assuming Beaumont hadn’t warned them about him—and he’s not too sold on the idea the sorceror would, because he’d been pretty insistent on shutting the woman he was sleeping with out of the picture and seemed more like a loner—this isn’t going to be too dangerous. Though he’s going to keep on his toes, and he’s grateful to see Nate adapt quickly and follow, because having someone following and keeping an eye on things will make him feel a whole hell of a lot better.
And, like. He’s pretty sure they don’t know. Cassie immediately starts flirting with him, and at least he manages not to look disgusted or throw up, so that’s a plus.
“Come on, you don’t have to try to have sex with every single fuckin’ hero that comes through. We’ve got more to offer than a simple lay,” Che tells her, and she shrugs.
“Aww, but heroes are just so manly. Seeing all that power used to help, well, it just gets a gal’s mind thinking on the...virtues of being a damsel in distress.” It’s...kind of a really bad play with the absolute worst actors. They’re not selling this at all. And it’s not like—he gets being horny, but he barely feels safe enough to sleep, let alone let his guard down like that. Not when it smells of such death and decay—and yeah, sure, the wards probably help with that, but it still doesn’t feel safe. Though maybe that’s the presence of the Morninglight rather than any fault of the wards. She’s pretty enough, prettier now that he’s actually getting a decent look at her, but she’s not his type and he can’t even look at her without remembering the siren song. On her side he’s not sure if she’s doing this whole seduction-for-the-cause thing by her own choice to begin with. At least it doesn’t seem like Che is taking advantage, because he doesn’t seem interested in her. At all.
And then they make this big show of having a whispered conference that they’ve walked a few steps away for and are pretending that it’s not a stage whisper about her having to pick up another delivery all by her lonesome. Do they...does this usually work on people? Do others fall for this? Chelsea could do a better job and she’s only started learning the basics. They aren’t actually arguing about whether she’s going on her own or not. They’re trying to push him into volunteering to go with her.
Wait—no, they absolutely do. That’s what gets good kids like Danny signing up for things they aren’t ready for. That’s why Mack had to warn them all what to watch out for before they hit the clubs. And sure, maybe there’s a lot of things about William’s particular Assassin upbringing that weren’t great, but just that little hint of caution, that’s definitely helpful.
And maybe he should suggest he goes with like they want him to, but he’s really curious as to how far they’re going to push it, so...he pretends like he doesn’t hear them. Because she had pulled Che aside. It’s blatantly Not His Business.
“Hey, hero. You want to extend those heroics a bit?” Che asks, when it becomes clear he’s not falling for it.
“What do you have in mind?” he asks, open but not too eager, and then Cassie walks up to him, close enough to touch.
“You, me, some good deeds, a date in the tunnels? Though it’ll only go as far as you want, handsome.” She leans forward, like she’s going to kiss him, and then moves back last minute. It’s probably supposed to be teasing.
“Sure.” He’s pretty sure that him sounding breathless is being misinterpreted by absolutely everyone, but the part of him that is doing its best not to panic does take a little smug pride in the fact that he’s managing to pull it off where they just aren’t. And he takes comfort in the fact that Nate, at least, knows where he is at the moment and is following. He doesn’t see Chelsea or Lydia, but then, he can’t be too obvious in looking around for them, either. He’s hoping they found a good vantage point.
“So, like...how does one go about becoming a hero, anyway? I’m guessing there wasn’t a job listing in the local paper.” That’s...interesting. Maybe she’s looking for someone to take revenge against the sorceror, or something? Not like he’s going to overplay his hand either way.
He shrugs. “Just kind of fell into it, I guess. I’d just been trying to live a normal life, keep my head down.” And that’s true enough. “What about you?”
Her smile is probably meant to tempt. “Ohhh, are you asking if I’m open to leaving? Sure, if the right man comes along. I got promised all sorts of things, but I’m not a patient kind of gal, and I’m getting so tired of waiting.” She reaches out and strokes a finger down his arm to get his attention; he tries not to jump like he’s been electrocuted. “Speaking of instant gratification, we’re here, hot stuff.”
The door, Desmond tells himself, is not going to burn him. At least this time he’s not half out of his mind when he’s trying to open it, and he can’t afford to hesitate too long and set off her alarms, so...he opens it, gesturing for her to go through, and she giggles.
“Oh, a gentleman. Thank you, sir.” She’s even trying to walk seductively. He concentrates on trying to note the details—like the body, the one that was here last time? It’s gone now. And she’s frowning. At first, he thinks it’s because somebody removed the body, but then she explains. “Someone’s been fiddling with the security in here. Used to be just the spot to get...away.”
Given that the last time he was here there were lasers and he doesn’t see anything new, he’s a little skeptical, but maybe she’s spotting something he isn’t. The back of his leg twinges. It’s healed, of course, but for this moment it absolutely feels like it isn’t. “I should be able to handle that.” Although he’s going to avoid showing off too much in case she picks up something she shouldn’t. He’d rather all of these people underestimate him.
“Oh, I look forward to that,” Cassie purrs and starts guiding him through the tunnels.
If he forgets his particular company and where he is right now, it’s actually kind of fun. The cameras are red, but avoiding them is more instinct than anything, at this point, and there are more lasers. And then they spot more Phoenicians.
His mind whirls even as Cassie critiques the purple uniforms. And then figures, you know, hey, why not check ‘em out with Eagle Vision?
They’re not red. Which probably means they’re not holding a grudge? They’d said they weren’t in the text, pinkie promise, but Kirsten Geary had said the same thing right before threatening to kill him, temporarily, so you’d have to forgive them for not taking their word for it. And...weirdly enough, Cassie isn’t either. She’s not blue. She’s gold, but his brain is insisting it’s the gold of important, not the gold of target, not yet anyway, and he’s not pushing the interpretation of the Calculations to work out what it means by that exactly.
“Maybe the laser grid would help?” Cassie suggests, and it’s a thought, but he really doesn’t want to fry them alive and, well.
It’s one thing for an Assassin to be calmly discussing murder. But it’s a lot more common even from civilians in this world than he’s really comfortable with, and it’s not—from an Assassin, he’d be pretty sure they understood the gravity of the situation, the weight of taking a life.
So, again, he uses Eagle Vision, and interestingly enough, the buttons glow at the precise right moments he needs to press them during one of the Phoenician’s patrolling walks. Enough to herd them into a room, trapped behind a laser grid in front of the door, and then it’s just a matter of sprinting over and slamming it in their faces. He’ll have to let them out later.
She looks a little bemused, startled out of the bloodthirst a bit. “I wasn’t expecting that.” It’s not exactly a complaint, and it’s not long before she goes back to the flirting, but it makes him wonder. Wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s more to her than meets the eye. But then he’s having to choose a room to go through, and he chooses the wrong one and has to fight a Draug solo for the first time in a while and doesn’t have time to think about it too much. The appreciative clapping is a bit distracting, though. And then there’s a room with a path through some electrified floor, and that’s way too easy, though Cassie confirms that ‘B’ was the one who set it up but “wasn’t reckoning with someone so talented”. The room beyond that has a table with a package behind some lasers and that’s glowing bright gold, so bright it’s almost blinding. Instantly, he knows that Beaumont absolutely can’t get his hands on that.
Cassie mutters about trust issues as he sets about figuring out the correct combination of levers to pull to deactivate the lasers—easy, with Eagle Vision—and then his vision whites out and he falls. The pain doesn’t hit immediately, but once it does he can feel every muscle screaming, but there’s nothing he can do. It’s like when he was stuck in the Animus, unable to get out, unable to get back in his body or get it to move, except it fucking hurts.
“Guess B’s not the only one with trust issues, Desmond, sorry,” Cassie whispers, too close, and when she brushes up against him to whisper in his ear it feels like it’s burning his skin off and all he can do is whimper. “Can’t run the risk of this falling in the hands of those fucking Morninglight hippies. Don’t worry, the spell will wear off soon after I’m gone. It’s like a taser. You can walk it off, hero.” It’s not mocking or condescending but it sure as hell feels like it. “I’ll be seeing you again, later. Do your best to stay alive until then. By the way, that bird of yours? Cute little fella. Why don’t you keep that bracelet as a souvenir? I don’t need it anymore, and it’s nice to think of you getting to keep a piece of me.”
By the sound of her footsteps, she does actually run out the door. As she promised, the second he can’t hear her boots anymore his muscles start spasming and he starts coughing, desperately trying to get breath into lungs but it’s not enough, it never seems to be enough. And there’s another couple sets of running footsteps and he tries to get up desperately only his legs and arms won’t cooperate. It’s not until he hears the swoop of wings that he relaxes a little as an insistent feathery body pushes itself into the side of his neck. That doesn’t hurt. It’s more grounding than anything.
“Desmond, God, are you okay? We saw Cassie come out without you and we got really worried—” Chelsea. Helping him up, careful, careful, and all he’s thinking is that this is nice. Still stinks of death, and burning, and the smell of the sea from the Draug and blood all around, but this time he’s not alone.
“Nate tried to follow blondie, but I’m pretty sure she got away,” Lydia adds, voice more quiet and subdued than the uncaring act she’s trying to portray.
“Phoenicians,” he gasps, trying to help with Chelsea hauling him out and accidentally realizing after the headache intensifies that he’s trying to do that with the Calculations. He immediately stops. Though he is doing better than he had been, now. “Trapped them.”
Chelsea and Lydia exchange glances. “The ones that were trying to shoot us?” Lydia clarifies. And yeah, maybe it’s a good idea to at least be a little careful about it, even though he doesn’t plan on just leaving them either.
“Yeah, maybe from a distance? Spells?” His breath is coming back. And it’s not as bad, but he decides that yeah he absolutely hates this too.
They’ve made it to the exit when Lydia rejoins them again. “They’re gone. Opened the door, and whoosh, gone.” She sighs. “I need a drink.”
Maybe them working together, even reluctantly, was good for something, because Chelsea just frowns in Lydia’s direction and doesn’t launch into the lecture. Or maybe that’s just because she’s worried about him. Rukh still hasn’t moved from where he’s plastered himself against Desmond’s neck.
“I can walk,” he protests.
Without looking at him, or at each other, they both instantly respond with “No” and “Nope”, Lydia actually taking his other arm even though they all know she’s not going to be able to handle most of his weight.
“So, is she working for Beaumont, or…?” Lydia asks, trying to distract him, showing him what has to be a Phoenician crest, a sailboat on purple, probably left behind as some sort of message, and he just snorts and shakes his head, because yeah, fine, whatever. At least when he’d had to move after experiencing Ezio for the first time he’d been able to make jokes about being born yesterday. Other than maybe getting an idea that this is more complicated than he’d known (like that was in any way new, really) and that they maybe had an even better chance against ridiculous odds because their enemy didn’t seem as united as they’d previously thought, he couldn’t see much of an upside to this one.
“No idea. She didn’t even bother gloating about the Illuminati getting their hands on another artifact or whatever, and I doubt she’s Phoenician or she wouldn’t have wanted them dead.”
“Let’s get him to the motel—it seemed pretty safe,” Chelsea suggests, and hey, there’s some of that initiative he’d been hoping to see more of from her. And Lydia, for once, doesn’t argue, either, just shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything to her. It’s still probably better than underneath the car—not like he’s going to mention that.
Nate comes back, apologetic about losing Cassie, not that any of them really expected anything different, and teleports them all back down south near the Agartha entrance—apparently, it’s the tunnel down there that leads to the “Savage Coast”.
And they do have to fight through some zombies trying to come through the tunnel, but at this point Desmond’s feeling good enough he can at least join in even if he’s aching all over and wants nothing more than some food, sleep, and a shower, even if he hasn’t quite decided the order yet. Given that there’s actual beds in the motel, though, never mind the ominous glowing cracks in the earth and what are apparently literal hellspikes cracking out of the ground, though, the choice is pretty much made for him. He doesn’t even bother talking to the war journalist who seems oddly jazzed about being so close to Hell, and he’s out pretty quickly.
