Fail to Mention

[madimpossibledreamer]

I nearly wrote ‘faculty’ and then was like, wait, using that word would not be second nature for Desmond.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond and his agents go to get Carter at the Innsmouth Academy.
Word Count: 1703
Rating: Teen

 

         “So, why would the Templars be mad at one of their researchers for keeping in contact with me when they’re letting Chelsea wander around with me just fine?”
         Shockingly, he’d managed to catch Nate by surprise (...whoops he hadn’t meant to actually sneak back into the room), but then he answers easily enough. “Long-standing tradition. Field agents can mingle all they want—actually, it’s kind of encouraged. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer kinda deal. Easier to spy on each other, and if they switch sides, well, no big deal, boss. It’s not like they know anything too important. The support staff, though, they’ve got the keys to the kingdom. Though they’re not usually that strict. Guess they invoked some kind of armageddon protocol.” He pauses and adds, “...Though the Templars have always been a little more anal about it than anyone else.”
         Desmond hums and stretches, and after a moment Nate adds, “Not that it’s my place to question you, boss, but I wouldn’t recommend kidnapping one of the Templar support staff if you’re not actually looking to start a war.”
         “Oh, I’m not.” Though there’s a funny kind of symmetry there, where Shaun had it feels like forever ago offered to kidnap Desmond. “We’ve got our hands full anyway.”
         Nate’s skepticism is probably justified, but seriously, he’s not planning anything of the kind. Not yet, anyway. If he gets through this and they’re still keeping them under lockdown, he’ll reevaluate then.
         If anything, he feels...mostly better about it? Hopefully his promise will be good enough to keep Shaun from worrying too much and he can turn to tea and a whole lot of complaining and Rebecca to keep him in a decent mood. It’s not the work he’s doing with the Templars that’s bothering Shaun, anyway; from everything he’d said it’s the same as with the Assassins. Being hunted, having to go underground, having to watch other teams die, that sucked, but he liked researching things and actually having that research help and make a difference. And he can stop worrying as much about why he’s not hearing from Shaun or Rebecca. Mostly, he’s not going to pay attention at that point if they want to tell him who he can and can’t hang around with, but he’s not planning on recruiting either of them unless they ask nicely.
         “You are very strange,” Alice proclaims, stirring and yawning like her unblinking gaze, head on her hand, had actually been her napping.
         “Thanks,” he tells her, and she just blinks at him a little more. “Ready to go make another friend?”
         He’s pretty sure that blank look she gives him is probably meant to be unimpressed. It’s kind of undercut by her patting Bob, who trills again, shaking his body happily.

         It’s kind of interesting walking up the path to the Innsmouth Academy. Rukh actually responds to a few calls from ravens lurking in the trees, but otherwise it’s really quiet. Desmond’s seen (well, partially through his ancestors’ eyes, but still) a lot of buildings built for the purpose of showing off, and the academy is just one such building. The road turn-off leads into one of the fancy not-paved-but-built-for-driving-anyway roads in between rows of trees leading to multiple buildings encased in crumbling walls. It’d all be so much more impressive if it was new, he understands instinctively.
         “Lumies,” Nate snorts, but even he’s a little more respectful than the last time. Still, now that he’s pointing that out, yeah, it does match architecture-wise. At least they’d been consistent there, designing really nice looking places and plastering the pyramid everywhere.
         The trees and shrubs are overgrown, the path hasn’t been maintained in a while, and the red walls are crumbling in places. Not that he can picture it as easily as the passage of time in Monteriggioni, but—actually, it’s kind of built similarly, with that wall. Like they wanted to make sure they could seal themselves off from the outside world in the case of a siege. It didn’t work, by the looks of things. The wrought iron gates to enter are torn off their hinges. The occasional zombie runs past, crying out and bringing friends to what they probably think in what little is left in their rotting brain is a feast but mostly just turns into a flambé organized by Alice (he’s also getting the feeling she really likes setting zombies on fire). Inside, between the fancy if rusting benches, the rest of the overgrown vegetation, and the parking circle, it’s more of the same, though there are a lot more of the Familiars he’d spotted in the League’s monster book (their dying screams are soul-piercing, seem to go on forever, and are more than a little unnerving) and more of the ghosts, as well as the occasional zombie. When he enters, he has a weird moment where he realizes this is the first time he’s actually been inside a school in his life—and, honestly, it might be Alice’s first, too—and it’s interesting, seeing the lockers and doors and staircases. It’s fascinating trying to imagine what it would’ve been like actually going to classes and doing homework and all of the rest. Though he could have done without all the blood, too. Hopefully that’s not all from students and teachers. And there’s a blood-spattered banner, announcing...huh. Is prom usually on Halloween, or around it, or had they just gotten ready early like Danny had mentioned? Desmond’s...actually got no clue. It’d be helpful to have a better idea of how long they’ve been stuck in this, but Desmond doesn’t know any of that.
         It’s as they’re staring that a voice calls out from a room to the left. Definitely sounds human, thankfully. “Please, no running in the halls. We’re already at capacity when it comes to ghosts.”
         They weren’t exactly running, but…apparently, who’s left (hopefully including Carter, though that doesn’t sound like a teenage girl’s voice) did hear them enter, so they might as well go introduce themselves.
         He recognizes Montag, too, from the League’s book—and that’s Miss Usher. Which, uh...kind of indicates...worrying things, about the safety of the lone kid still working on a computer in her bloodstained white hoodie. She hasn’t even bothered to clear a smear of blood off her cheek.
         Montag with his blue rubber gloves steps forward to greet him. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you. Are you some of the parents? I regret to inform you that while as Headmaster I understand your concerns, but as a private institution, we are not subject to requests for public disclosure, even in the case of threats of an apocalyptic nature.” He notices Alice, and then adds, “...also, I don’t believe we have enough faculty still living to accept any more students at the moment.”
         “Does he look like a parent, H.J.?” Miss Usher asks, Scottish accent thick, walking over to shake his hand. “You must be Desmond Miles. Shaun mentioned you.” Just in case, Desmond uses Eagle Vision even as he responds. She’s blue, as is Carter. Montag’s gold.
         “He didn’t mention much about any of you, but I don’t think he was supposed to.” That’s probably the safest way to put it.
         Montag doesn’t even blink. “Ah, yes, playing the games of intrigue, as one does. It’s similar in many respects to instances of seeking funding to maintain the school. I would often remind alumni that their donations enable the youth to attain the same noble education and status and prevent future tragedies, such as the deaths of an entire classroom of students in 1967 to forces unseen. You come from a cultist background, I hear.”
         Desmond just blinks at him. He’d said all of that so calmly.
         “Ignore him,” Miss Usher advises.
         And the headmaster genuinely looks confused. “Ah, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Some of our finest maguses and occultists came from similar situations.”
         It does seem like he’s trying to be friendly and just genuinely has no idea what he’s doing. “Thanks?”
         “You’re very welcome,” Montag replies deliberately, and yeah, Desmond can absolutely see how talking to him would drive Shaun nuts. “Now, how can we help? I regret to inform you that our capability to do so has been massively curtailed, but we will do what we can. If you need magical knowledge, you have come to the right place.”
         “Danny suggested Carter here could be useful in trying to destroy and cleanse Atlantic Island Park,” he responds, and Carter actually glances up with a smile, wiping at sleep-deprived eyes and just smearing more of the blood on her face.
         “Oh, please? This is just the sort of thing my powers could actually be good at!” Apparently that’s enough to catch Alice’s attention, because she leans forward.
         “We didn’t have anyone quite so strong the last time we tried, if I remember. She could learn more about control, and it would look good in view of…” Miss Usher waves a hand wearily at the window. “...all this.”
         “Yes, it would—though I would urge you all to take great care. None of the last expedition returned alive. Most did not even return dead. I suppose I could consider it a kind of...field trip,” Montag muses, tapping his gloved hands together. And then he brightens, turning back to Desmond. “Perhaps you’d be willing to help decide her amount of extra credit for this endeavor, provided you do not end up splattered all over the ground?”
         Desmond has absolutely no idea how any of that works, but he does want to put a good word in for Carter. Assuming that’s what she wants, too.
         “Oh brother,” she grumbles when he glances at her, but...eh, thinking about it, she’s probably had a really bad...few weeks or whatever this is. The least he can do is make sure she feels properly appreciated for helping out with this. He’ll work out with her on the way whether getting her extra noticed by the Illuminati is worth it.
         “Sure.” He shrugs and doesn’t look very enthusiastic, but it appears Montag has enough enthusiasm for everyone.
         “Excellent. I’ll work on the rubric while you’re gone.” Well. That had...kind of gone well?