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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-11-16 12:25 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
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Discussion
Re: Clear Skies 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-05-08 12:29 pm (UTC)(link)"Where-" Desmond began.
She cut him off with a gesture, eyes scanning the street. "Not here."
It was a few steps later than he identified the note in her voice as fear.
She lead him to steps that went down below the street, and spoke foreign words to the speaker's challenge. There was a buzz, and a click as the door opened.
There were others like him.
"What do you think you're doing bringing a stranger here?" a redheaded man with a British accent hissed.
"He's one of us," Lucy said. She locked the door.
"How do you know that?"
"If he wasn't, he couldn't be here."
The bare rafters of the abandoned warehouse cross-hatched above them. The few Coleman lanterns made the shadows sharp. They gathered. The walls were high and cavernous around the few of them. Most of the space was taken by the mountains of crates, boxes, and iron bars that loomed above them.
"One of who?" asked Desmond. The air had a tension of a hidden place.
"The last human beings," said a man who dropped down from the top of a crate with practiced grace. He must have been near Desmond's age, though the hunted cast to his eyes made him look older. Clay, who would show him how to climb and pull himself up where people never looked, how to accept the shock of gravity and fall unharmed. Who would show him the truths that fit together beneath the bedrock of the world.
"Don't be so dramatic," said a girl with dark hair and a clever face, but she didn't disagree. Becca, who showed him how to dive into the glow of a computer screen and coax out its secrets.
"What if you were followed?" Shaun, who told him that the world wasn't supposed to be this way, and made him realize that he'd always known.
"I made sure we weren't." Lucy, who taught him how to fight.
Desmond said, looking from one face to another, "What do you mean, human?"
That night that sat in a circle, pale by the light of the blue-white lantern, and told him that the locked-away part of him that screamed was right.
"This isn't how things are supposed to be," Lucy said, voice held low to keep from echoing off the metal walls.
"The Templars own everything," said Shaun.
"Their memos call it 'when the world turned sane,'" Becca put in. She perched on the edge of a crate, swinging her heels.
"They're in control," said Lucy.
"You mean the government?" Desmond said, baffled. "Sure they are. Ever since things changed."
"Things do not just change, Desmond," said Shaun. "Not like this."
"We still don't know exactly what they did that day," said Lucy. "Only that it...changed people, somehow. They set limits."
"Except whatever it is," said Becca, "it's the exact same thing fed into every person on earth. Same dose for everybody, no exceptions."
"Now here's the funny part." Clay gestured in quick, feral motions, "For most people, it's down to the bone. For you, it's only skin deep."
"It's the same way some people don't get poison ivy," said Becca.
"Ever wonder why you felt like you were different, Desmond?" said Clay. "It's because you are."
They told him they could resist. They told him they fought.
In that summer, Desmond's life divided. The life of before became a backdrop for the small hours that were free.
There was a night world underneath the surface of the day. It was tiny and desperate. It was what was missing.
"How many of us are there?" Desmond asked Clay when they were at the highest point of the warehouse's obstacle course, lying on their backs to catch their breath. Through the small high windows the sky was orange with dawn.
"More than you think."
Clay won each race to the top by a smaller margin each day.
"Our strength is in mobility," said Lucy as she showed him how to break a grappling hold. "We have to be able to move fast and stay out of sight."
"Power backfires," Shaun told him. "King Louis XVI was recognized and caught fleeing France because his picture was on the money."
"So you think we have a chance?"
"I didn't say that."
Desmond grew stronger. The summer turned. Sometimes everyone was there at the safehouse, sometimes fewer. Clay was always there. Sometimes training, sometimes reading and making complex notes, something talking quietly to Lucy for a long time. Desmond had never seen him sleep.
They showed him the threads that ran through history until they pulled together and wrapped the world in a net. There was an encyclopedia riddled with diagrams and perfectly measured holes.
"In the machine we are all replaceable parts," said Clay. His fingers moved at his sides like spiders. He ignored Shaun when he suggested slowing down.
Desmond learned, and he believed.
When they gathered on top of the building, the leaves that rustled beneath the streetlights were yellow and bronze, and the wind had the hint of teeth.
"They called the greatest grandmaster The Eagle," said Lucy. "He said that before you could be one of us, you had to fly."
"I'm jumping off a building because a guy a thousand years ago liked birds?" said Desmond.
"It's symbolism," Clay said, staring up at the moon. "Freedom."
"C'mon," said Becca, "You've done it plenty of times before."
"Inside, onto pads, not into bushes in a park I can barely see."
"You can see," said Clay.
"What's the worst that could happen?" said Shaun. "I mean, besides the cracked skull and broken bones, that sort of thing."
"Thanks. That helps a lot."
When Desmond stepped up to the edge they fell silent. The wind invited him.
He flew.
The hidden city was his, the balconies and the rooftops. They did things that should have been impossible. They stole secrets, and hid while footsteps passed, and were alive.
The news never mentioned them.
"We're almost there," Becca said, bathed in the glow of the screen. "It's all leading to something. If we can find out what it is they did..."
"It's always them," Clay broke in. He was staring at a sheet of code. His voice was out of key. "How do you hide from the light you see yourself by?"
Lucy put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off, whirled, and grabbed Desmond.
"Tell me I can trust you." His eyes were rimmed with white. "Can they lie for this?"
"It's okay," Desmond said. "Come on. It's okay."
When he said it, he believed it. He didn't think anyone was even looking for them. What could rouse the complacent world?
It was not long after that.
"Shouldn't you be getting home?" Lucy said. Outside the light was changing from the pink pink of dawn to full day.
"Soon as I get this done," Desmond said, giving a crate from the obstacle course a shove into a new position. "I'm trying to make things a little more interesting."
"Keep it possible," Clay said. He was doing better that day. Desmond would always remember that.
"Possible's boring." He heard steps coming down the stairs outside, that would be Becca and Shaun coming back. Clay went to the intercom to let them in.
The buzz didn't come.
One thump, then the door shattered.
Men in uniform poured in. Their faces were black visors.
They swarmed over Clay. He kicked and elbowed in their gasp, then they did something to him, and he cried out and fell limp.
Terror blanked Desmond's mind. He heard himself shouting Lucy's name, sprinting for her and grabbing her by the arm, and they ran the back way out that he'd never thought they would have to use. The uniformed men were fast. He could hear him close behind, boots tramping on the cement.
The handle was in his grasp. He yanked the door open.
Desmond nearly ran right into the huge bald man in the black suit. The one he'd seen a hundred times, standing in the back at the government announcements.
Something sharp stung him.
OP
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 08:16 am (UTC)(link)Ah, is that Robert in the suit? :D Because this is awesome if so.
(Is it bad that I'm seeing Rude from FF7 in there, too? XD All bald and sexy with sunglasses and studs in the ears.)Re: OP
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 10:21 am (UTC)(link)Clear Skies 3/?
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 10:19 am (UTC)(link)"Shit!" His body leaped and twisted, banging his head against the window as he pressed back to get as far as he could from the huge bald man with the red and white pin.
"Calm down," the bald man said. "No one is going to hurt you."
Desmond had never heard his voice before. It was deep and calm, with a faint French accent, and sounded used to giving commands.
"Lucy. Clay." His own voice was thin and frightened. "What did you do to them?"
He remembered Lucy's face gone white, and Clay vanishing behind a wall of uniforms and masks. Shaun and Becca could still be free. The Templars might not even know they existed.
"Your friends are safe."
Liar.
Desmond's head was full of the surreal thought of being murdered, like in a movie. Corpses buried quietly in the night. They were the ones who made the rules. Who knew what they were capable of that the rest of the world wasn't?
Desmond's pulse beat against his throat. "Where are they?"
The windows were dark. There was a partition separating them from the driver. The world outside was vague, shifting casts of gray.
"With other Templars who have taken on your case. They each have someone who will watch over them." Desmond could not read anything recognizable in his eyes. "You're mine."
Behind his back, Desmond's hands scrabbled desperately at the car door, seeking the handle. There was nothing but smooth upholstery. The bald man looked at him with something like interest.
"Always so unreasonable. You'd smash your head open on the road, trying to run."
He looked perfectly composed, hands resting on his knees. Maybe people who weren't supposed to exist died every day. One look at his hands made the idea of strangulation no longer seem like cartoon absurdity.
"Where are you taking me?" Though the window was cool against the back of his head, sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
He thought of the ruins on Rikers Island, the pictures of rusted bars and people who said you could still hear prisoners clawing at the walls.
"To show you the truth."
"Brainwashing," Desmond threw back.
"No." Implacable. "It wouldn't work on you."
"That's what this is about." For an instant, a wave of anger rolled over the sick fear. "You'll kill us or lock us up because we're different and you can't control us. You can't stand that there's anybody alive who's still free. We're not you so we're evil and it's okay to destroy us."
The bald man's expression never changed. He only shook his head, as though he weren't surprised at all.
He only said, "Wrong is not the same as evil."
Desmond's back dragged down the car door. There was no escape that way. There was no telling where he was, and no way to follow. These people, as Shaun and Clay had told him, tracing between the lines of history, were experts at making things disappear.
The bald man never looked away from him. "You're right. You are different. Where the rest of humanity were put on a better path unwillingly, you have a choice. We're going to help you make the right one, Desmond."
What turned his blood cold was that everything they did to him would be for his own good.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Robert de Sable."
Pronounced the French way. Ro-bear. Desmond's thoughts ran in inane circles, and that was better than thinking about what might be happening to Lucy and Clay, and what was going to happen to him. He'd seen that name somewhere, in the paper or the news maybe, with other people high in the government who had nothing to do with Desmond.
The car was going slower, turning more often. It came to a stop. Robert put a black bag over Desmond's head.
"A formality," he said. "Don't try to run."
As soon as Desmond heard the door open and felt outside air, he ran.
Blind and off-balance, he threw himself forward as fast as his body would move, unable to know if he was sprinting toward a dead end, caring only that it was away from the fast hard footsteps behind him.
He hit something hard with his right shoulder, stumbled, kept going. It was too slow, too slow. No one alive could catch him when he had his hands and eyes. His panting sucked in the black fabric.
Something heavy hit his back, and the ground vanished from under his feet. His legs kicked at empty air until he hit grass with a body on top of him that knocked the breath from his lungs.
If there was anyone there, they said nothing, if they were even able to see something that was not supposed to happen.
"I nearly forgot that you can disobey," Robert said as he got up and pulled Desmond to his feet like a ragdoll. Because he was out of breath from the chase, it sounded like he was laughing.