Plots and Plans

[madimpossibledreamer]

(This was my ‘what I am writing later’ memory jog. When I came back to it later, I went ‘...actually that looks like a pretty good chapter summary’, so here we are.)
Desmond absolutely went back after this chapter and re-read Shaun’s ‘intro to the factions’ sheet and took the line “We absolutely do not need to end up as flexible as the Dragon” in a completely different context than originally intended.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Desmond is trying to plan the assault on the Draug. Lydia is trying to plan Desmond’s assault on Shaun’s heart. Oh, and there’s the matter of the wounded woman, too.  
Word Count: 2439
Rating: Teen

 

        Red’s ‘wounded woman’ happens to be a Phoenician, judging by the purple and black body armor. Rukh perches watching carefully and, Desmond’s pretty sure, swoop in and take out her throat if she so much as breathes wrong. Red seems torn. He is concerned about the others, and Desmond gets the feeling that the same is true about the Phoenician, that he thinks she’s bad news. All he says, though, is “I will keep watch,” and disappears off into the rocks. Not as good as an Assassin, but pretty impressive anyway, especially if he hasn’t been taught. Possibly he has; it’s hard to tell whether Red’s father had agreed that the old ways were outdated or not, but it reminds Desmond of one of Shaun’s other lectures in the Temple, one he’d prefaced with ‘This isn’t my area, but.’ “Your ancestor’s experience is sadly common,” he’d mentioned. “Too many of your Indigenous population are caught in the same dilemma between ‘Connor’ and ‘Ratonhnhaké:ton’.” He hadn’t pronounced it correctly, but he’d at least made an attempt.
        Desmond can’t tell if it’s the same woman that teleported off with her buddy after failing to shoot him and Lydia, mostly because her mask is gone. He can’t even be sure with her voice, given that he has the feeling there was some kind of voice changer or something they were using just to obscure their identities just that little bit more. She looks up at him, expression as cool as she can make it. “Are you going to heal me?” she asks accusingly, like he isn’t.
        Having to prove himself again, huh. This kind of sucks. “Are you gonna attack me the instant I finish?”
        She blinks and shifts, grimacing a little as she does so. “I suppose we’re just going to have to trust each other. Believe it or not, the ‘hands off’ rule is still on.” It’s nice having the verbal confirmation, finally, but he still has questions.
        He can ask those while healing, though. Alice watches intently. He’s not sure if it’s helping, but he’s glad she’s interested at least. “So, uh, who gave the order?” he tries to ask casually.
        She might be a little out of it, but not out of it enough to miss that. Worth a try, though. She actually looks a little...disturbed, maybe, at the question. “If you don’t know, I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.”
        “Is there anything you are allowed to share?” That might be the kind of question she can answer.
        She sighs, stretching and testing her newly healed limbs before just tossing something at him.
        ...It’s the third missing piece to the egg-artifact thing, if you count the one Krieg lost as the second. She looks really amused at the fact that he’s just staring at her now, because that’s...not what he’d been expecting.
        “We’re not the Big Three. We like to keep our options open, and we don’t have the ego—if we did, we’d be running around everywhere telling everyone how many pies we’ve got our hands in. We’ve only got our Council contract because we get discretion. Even the Illuminati, who you’d think would understand the value of secrets, just can’t stop themselves from opening their big mouths. It doesn’t matter who gets the job done as long as it gets done, and right now I’m missing half my squad and did not have a particularly good time tangoing with those freaks.” She nods in the direction of the Draug and zombies. “Don’t get us wrong. This isn’t an alliance. But the Council likes our track record, above the Big Three. What they don’t get—and we do—is that while, in a world in crisis gunrunning is a viable income source, or saving people is a legitimate source of glory, or finding the meaning of life is actually vaguely possible, there’s shit all that gets done if the world ends, and right now, you’re my best bet.”
        She’s blue, and that feels like the truth. Not the whole truth—there’s a whole lot she isn’t saying, like what the Phoenicians actually do (say, with the artifacts they find) but what she is choosing to say matters, partly because of the whole emphasis on secrets. The fact that she’s deciding to say anything at all is important.
        “Against Beaumont?” he guesses, and her breath hisses out through her teeth.
        “The sorceror? Funny thing, he’s screwed us in the past before, and we’ve got a thing against contract breakers. When there’s red in the ledger, it’s time for some red in the streets.” That’s definitely news.
        “Am I allowed to know what deal he broke?” He’d think it’s the kind of info worth sharing if they’re basically handing off a contract to kill to him, but he can’t be sure.
        “Nope.” She smiles cheerfully at him. “Not that it’s forbidden or anything. I’m just one of the field agents. Pretty sure that’s desk material.”
        Rukh shifts on his rock, impatient or maybe disapproving. Which, interestingly enough, makes the Phoenician a little more alert.
        ...That sounds like an Al Mualim sort of thing. It probably isn’t, but still. It sets him on edge, like when he’d been in his room in Abstergo knowing they were watching and being unable to see it because he hadn’t figured out Eagle Vision yet. Sure, there’s good reasons for that kind of compartmentalization, even of info, especially if they’re trying to stay unnoticed and out of sight, but that’s also the way he’d used to control the Assassins at his command, by making sure they didn’t have enough knowledge to question or make choices for themselves.
        So he’s maybe a little curious. “Do you want the plans for the Park instead, or what?”
        “What,” she decides after a pause. At least that one threw her off her game a little. “At least, that’s my call. You might have demonstrated there were some serious design flaws, and knowing how to disarm a bomb is always worth more than having the bomb, on the days you can’t figure out how to get rid of it.” She stands up, dusting off the rifle. “Q&A time is over, but here’s a few more freebies just to get you hooked: the Illuminati Secret Archives beneath the Academy might be worth a look, these Draug are a lot more organized and vicious than the others I’ve seen, which has to mean something good inside, and here in Solomon Island the nasty trio seems to be the sword, the Park, and the mine. Get a good look and don’t get absorbed into the Filth hivemind corruption. Laters.” And then she’s off, too. Rukh circles off after her, but returns pretty quickly to Desmond’s shoulder without a fuss, so she probably hadn’t headed anywhere suspicious.
        Unfortunately, still no call from Nate yet, so Desmond decides—very, very quietly—to call, and he’s now on his way (got sidetracked by a big walking pile of meat in the gym, apparently; Desmond doesn’t ask) to their new location.
        The Phoenician isn’t wrong, either. The only time Desmond has seen the Draug this organized is when he’d been fighting them in the sewers, and it’s really not time for a repeat of that one. It won’t be a repeat, he tries to tell himself, holding Shaun’s charm tightly. Among other things, this is more wide-open. The downside is that means that unless they’re really, really good, the Draug will see them coming, but the upside also means that it’s more unlikely the Draug will be able to corner them. Still, they need a plan. “The zombies have been a little more oblivious lately, but that doesn’t mean that we should let down our guard.”
        “So, uh. That historian friend of yours. That’s the guy you were talking to on the phone, right?” Lydia asks. It’s as if she isn’t even taking any of this seriously.
        He has to be honest about this. Eventually. Now isn’t a great time, and he liked her attitude better at the church. “Yeah, but we can talk about this later, because we’ve got a job to do. The big issue here is probably going to be the Draug. They’re smarter and a little more aware than the zombies. If any of them spot us, they’re going to yell out for help.”
        But maybe even worse, Lydia isn’t just amused. She’s taking something seriously, just not the thing that could kill her. “Much as I hate to agree with the author about anything...he’s right. It’s dangerous and putting it off isn’t going to help. You could call him and ask him if he knows anything about Draug that could help us here.”
        She really isn’t going to let up, is she? “Right now, contact with any of the Templars isn’t a great idea. If Horal’s report of what happened with the Park doesn’t do it, then that’s either internal politics that I can’t fix or I’m going to need something bigger to convince them.” Javier’s not the type to lie. He might downplay some stuff, but he’s the honorable kind of jackass. Kind of like Maria, actually.
        “A historian would fit around here just fine,” Lydia counters.
        The words are out of his mouth before he realizes. “I can’t do that!” Damn, he realizes numbly, Alice’s hand slipping into his own. He sounds like Bill. His breath is a little shaky. “I don’t...I can’t ask him to do that.”
        “Are you scared that he will not agree? Or that he will, and will resent you?” Despite the blunt question, he’s pretty sure Alice is actually trying to be kind and gentle.
        It still hurts a little. “More the second one,” he admits. Because, like a lot of other things, he’s noticed things, but he’s been trying hard not to think about a lot of this. Maybe because he knew it’d distract him and he needs to be his best, here. Probably more because he’s scared. “He...he really likes his work.” 
        It’s not something he can actually say, because he hasn’t explained the other world thing to them yet, either, but Shaun’s a lot less on edge here, when he’s not having to be on the run or hide from Templars. Sure, he grumbles and he’s still sharp, but that’s just Shaun. The guy complains like breathing. For Shaun, this is relaxed, especially when Desmond was still hanging around London. Sure, some of it was probably the crush, but not all of it. Honestly, knowing how much Shaun likes his tea, it might just be having access to a reliable tea supply, living in London, but...Desmond gets the feeling he likes actually having something like a base. Going out to restaurants, haunting the local pub, visiting the local bookstore. He still gets to be in on the new and exciting and have a practical impact on things that Desmond vaguely guesses isn’t possible for a lot of historians, but without having to actually put himself on the front lines. Not that he can’t; Desmond was there for the sword demonstration, and he’s pretty sure Shaun even probably takes pride in it, but actually having to use those skills is completely different in practice and that’s something Desmond totally gets. The other Shaun had talked about it, how he’d killed before and expected he’d probably have to kill again, more as a necessity than something he’d actually liked. Because Desmond had the same thing, sorta, with the added instincts of several Master Assassins making sure he didn’t panic about how easy it was until after.
        “He and Rebecca were pretty vague. They couldn’t talk about the details, but I got the general idea, and they’re part of this movement to modernize the Templars—attitudes toward minorities, and this idea that you have to destroy everything to get rid of evil, and computers and stuff. The new guard I think he called them? And it’s good stuff, worthwhile, and he likes what he’s doing. So no. I don’t think I can just ask him to come join us.” Which, honestly, now that he’s probably thinking about it probably explains what’s going on. Javier definitely strikes him as an old guard type, and while Shaun and Rebecca didn’t explicitly say that they were resisting the change or that it was going badly, it could equally be a new thing or just something they hadn’t mentioned, trying not to pull him into Templar internal politics. 
        Alice just nods along like that’s perfectly normal. Huh. Maybe there’s something similar going on with the Dragon. He’ll ask her about it later. Maybe when she’s shown some signs of opening up herself about her past, and not just ‘I am a baby dragon’.
        “Someone else could do it?” Lydia suggests faintly, and he shakes his head at that, too.
        “I mean, I’m pretty sure Sonnac is on board—he’s one of the higher-ups—and Shaun mentioned another name, uh.” It’s been a while since he’s read this, but it was Shaun’s very recognizable style, which always helped Desmond remember information, even before he’d actually realized his crush. “...Dame Julia. That was it. Like she was old guard but surprisingly okay with everything, or at least more things than anyone expected. But they can’t do that without people on the ground, and right now Shaun and Rebecca are those people.” He kind of actually wants to see Shaun succeed, he realizes with shock. Like how he would have cheered on Lucy to actually fix that rotten core of the Templars, because there was actually a chance she could have done it. Not that she got the chance to change anything, or him the chance to encourage her. He liked being on good terms with the Templars, and he liked the chance of cooperation between the factions, because Boone what feels like forever ago had been right. There’s more important stuff going on than inter-faction squabbles, and if Shaun can pull it off…
        Rukh shifts on his shoulder slightly, ‘accidentally’ batting his head with a wing. Right. Probably not good for his thoughts to go there around—he’d second-guess his assumption, but while Lydia looks and acts younger on purpose, Alice is one hundred percent a kid. Even if she’s not a human kid.
        “You,” Lydia announces, smiling and a little bemused, “...are a sap.”
        “Do not mock his heart,” Alice warns, and Lydia quickly shakes her head.
        “No mocking here. That was admiration.” But Alice still looks skeptical, and Lydia finally, finally lets herself concentrate on how they’re going to avoid all getting murdered by blue lobster-people.