He hit the ground again, the air in his body leaving in an explosive grunt. Desmond groaned and pushed himself to his feet. Ezio grinned and motioned for him to try again.
“You’re enjoying this,” Desmond told him. He threw a haymaker towards Ezio’s face, and was unsurprised when it was blocked. He brought his other fist into Ezio’s solar plexus. Ezio stumbled backwards, trying to draw a breath. Desmond pressed his advantage, and landed a punch on his jaw. He only caught the hint of a grin on Ezio’s face before his feet were taken out from under him.
“Perhaps,” Ezio agreed as Desmond hit the floor. Desmond groaned at his jovial tone and threw an arm over his eyes. “You have improved,” Ezio said, sensing his despair.
“When six hundred years old you reach, beat the master you will?” Desmond asked. He stood up and slid into a fighting stance. Ezio chuckled.
“If you’re lucky,” he replied.
This time Ezio pressed the attack, forcing Desmond to defend himself. His first two jabs missed as Desmond jumped backwards. Desmond grinned as he blocked a punch at his shoulder. He danced to the left as Ezio tried to block him into a corner. Abandoning that tactic, Ezio rushed him and grappled him to the floor. Desmond managed to throw him off. He rolled to his feet, ready for Ezio’s next attack.
Connor grabbed him from behind and pinned his arms to his sides. Desmond fought against his hold, throwing his head back in an attempt to hit his nose. At the same time he attempted to step on his insole. Connor leaned backwards and widened his stance, avoiding his blows. A light touch on his neck made Desmond look up. Ezio grinned as he tapped Connor’s arm.
“Dead,” he said as Connor released Desmond. “Keep an eye out for new opponents. Tunnel vision won’t help you in a fight.”
“Right,” Desmond said. He walked over to the sidelines, grunting in thanks when Connor threw him a towel. He wiped his face, watching the two Masters. Desmond grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the wall. He could read their body language easily, his mind remembering their mannerisms. Connor took a step backwards from Ezio, something he did when he was nervous or trying to hide something.
“Is he ready?” Connor asked. Ezio shrugged and motioned for Desmond to throw him a bottle of water.
“He can do it,” Ezio said after taking a swig of water. He looked at Desmond and raised an eyebrow. “He’s acceptable.”
“Altair wishes to speak with you. I will tell him,” Connor said. Ezio nodded, his lips tilting up slightly as he walked past Desmond.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Desmond asked as Ezio’s footsteps faded. “Did something happen?”
“No,” Connor said. “Not yet.”
“Then what’s up?”
“You’ve improved since you started training,” Connor replied, deflecting his question.
“Ezio’s still kicking my ass like he was in March,” Desmond said. “But I’m probably in the best shape of my life.”
“You have passed every test we have put before you,” Connor said.
Desmond raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What tests?”
“Patience,” Connor said. “Your willingness to wait for the time to strike. Strength and cunning, shown when you spar. And tonight we will test the most important in this day and age: stealth.”
“You’re letting me hit the town?” Desmond asked. “Without a grocery list?”
That managed to make Connor smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “And you will have a few advantages as well. The streets will be busy-”
“Why?”
“It is the Fourth,” Connor said. Desmond shrugged sheepishly as he continued. “We will not use our Eagle Vision, and you will have an hour’s head start. At six we will begin hunting you.”
“I’d better get changed then,” Desmond said. He turned and bounded up the stairs. Ezio and Altair’s hushed conversation halted until he was on the second floor. He glanced at the clock before jumping into the shower, rinsing off the worst of his sweat and grime.
Securing a towel around his waist, he jogged to his room and threw on a pair of boxers and jeans. He debated for a moment between two shirts before choosing a dark blue one. Looking around the room for anything else he might need, he grabbed a white jacket that was hanging in his closet. It had been a late birthday gift from his ancestors. When he had expressed his gratitude for it, more had appeared in his closet, supplementing his wardrobe.
Walking back down the stairs, he slipped out the front door. It had been a very mild summer for New Hampshire, and Desmond was glad he had thought to wear a jacket. He started off at a jog towards the town. The differences between the two Davenports, sidewalks instead of muddy roads, gasoline rather than the smell of nature, were nice.
The sidewalk led him down by the bay, into the thick crowds headed towards the piers. Desmond let them drag him along, picking a few pockets as he went. It wasn’t hard, people’s minds on other things. Glancing at a clock by one of the stands, Desmond saw that it was almost seven. He glanced around nonchalantly, his vision flickering into his second sight. Satisfied that none of his ancestors were around, he began making his way to the opposite side of the beach. About halfway across, he spotted someone that he needed. The man was a year or two younger than him, but as Desmond watched, he saw him lift two wallets from passersby. Desmond made his way over and tapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re pretty good,” Desmond said casually. The man’s posture tensed at his words, and Desmond held up his hands. “Look, buddy, I need your help.”
“None of my business,” the man said.
“I’ll give you what I’ve managed to take in exchange for your jacket and pack,” Desmond said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the wallets he had stolen. Opening it, he pulled out a stack of cash. The man’s interest was palpable as his eyes followed the money.
“I can’t say no to a little cash,” he agreed, sliding off his jacket. He emptied his pack before handing it to Desmond as well. “You get made?”
“Further up the pier,” Desmond lied. He stuffed his jacket into the bag and pulled on the other man’s. “Think I’ll try someplace else for a while,” he said, pressing the cash into the other man’s hand. The man gave him a jaunty wave as he disappeared into the crowd again.
Citadel 2a/?
He hit the ground again, the air in his body leaving in an explosive grunt. Desmond groaned and pushed himself to his feet. Ezio grinned and motioned for him to try again.
“You’re enjoying this,” Desmond told him. He threw a haymaker towards Ezio’s face, and was unsurprised when it was blocked. He brought his other fist into Ezio’s solar plexus. Ezio stumbled backwards, trying to draw a breath. Desmond pressed his advantage, and landed a punch on his jaw. He only caught the hint of a grin on Ezio’s face before his feet were taken out from under him.
“Perhaps,” Ezio agreed as Desmond hit the floor. Desmond groaned at his jovial tone and threw an arm over his eyes. “You have improved,” Ezio said, sensing his despair.
“When six hundred years old you reach, beat the master you will?” Desmond asked. He stood up and slid into a fighting stance. Ezio chuckled.
“If you’re lucky,” he replied.
This time Ezio pressed the attack, forcing Desmond to defend himself. His first two jabs missed as Desmond jumped backwards. Desmond grinned as he blocked a punch at his shoulder. He danced to the left as Ezio tried to block him into a corner. Abandoning that tactic, Ezio rushed him and grappled him to the floor. Desmond managed to throw him off. He rolled to his feet, ready for Ezio’s next attack.
Connor grabbed him from behind and pinned his arms to his sides. Desmond fought against his hold, throwing his head back in an attempt to hit his nose. At the same time he attempted to step on his insole. Connor leaned backwards and widened his stance, avoiding his blows. A light touch on his neck made Desmond look up. Ezio grinned as he tapped Connor’s arm.
“Dead,” he said as Connor released Desmond. “Keep an eye out for new opponents. Tunnel vision won’t help you in a fight.”
“Right,” Desmond said. He walked over to the sidelines, grunting in thanks when Connor threw him a towel. He wiped his face, watching the two Masters.
Desmond grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the wall. He could read their body language easily, his mind remembering their mannerisms. Connor took a step backwards from Ezio, something he did when he was nervous or trying to hide something.
“Is he ready?” Connor asked. Ezio shrugged and motioned for Desmond to throw him a bottle of water.
“He can do it,” Ezio said after taking a swig of water. He looked at Desmond and raised an eyebrow. “He’s acceptable.”
“Altair wishes to speak with you. I will tell him,” Connor said. Ezio nodded, his lips tilting up slightly as he walked past Desmond.
“What’s with all the cloak and dagger?” Desmond asked as Ezio’s footsteps faded. “Did something happen?”
“No,” Connor said. “Not yet.”
“Then what’s up?”
“You’ve improved since you started training,” Connor replied, deflecting his question.
“Ezio’s still kicking my ass like he was in March,” Desmond said. “But I’m probably in the best shape of my life.”
“You have passed every test we have put before you,” Connor said.
Desmond raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What tests?”
“Patience,” Connor said. “Your willingness to wait for the time to strike. Strength and cunning, shown when you spar. And tonight we will test the most important in this day and age: stealth.”
“You’re letting me hit the town?” Desmond asked. “Without a grocery list?”
That managed to make Connor smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “And you will have a few advantages as well. The streets will be busy-”
“Why?”
“It is the Fourth,” Connor said. Desmond shrugged sheepishly as he continued. “We will not use our Eagle Vision, and you will have an hour’s head start. At six we will begin hunting you.”
“I’d better get changed then,” Desmond said. He turned and bounded up the stairs. Ezio and Altair’s hushed conversation halted until he was on the second floor. He glanced at the clock before jumping into the shower, rinsing off the worst of his sweat and grime.
Securing a towel around his waist, he jogged to his room and threw on a pair of boxers and jeans. He debated for a moment between two shirts before choosing a dark blue one. Looking around the room for anything else he might need, he grabbed a white jacket that was hanging in his closet. It had been a late birthday gift from his ancestors. When he had expressed his gratitude for it, more had appeared in his closet, supplementing his wardrobe.
Walking back down the stairs, he slipped out the front door. It had been a very mild summer for New Hampshire, and Desmond was glad he had thought to wear a jacket. He started off at a jog towards the town. The differences between the two Davenports, sidewalks instead of muddy roads, gasoline rather than the smell of nature, were nice.
The sidewalk led him down by the bay, into the thick crowds headed towards the piers. Desmond let them drag him along, picking a few pockets as he went. It wasn’t hard, people’s minds on other things. Glancing at a clock by one of the stands, Desmond saw that it was almost seven. He glanced around nonchalantly, his vision flickering into his second sight. Satisfied that none of his ancestors were around, he began making his way to the opposite side of the beach. About halfway across, he spotted someone that he needed. The man was a year or two younger than him, but as Desmond watched, he saw him lift two wallets from passersby. Desmond made his way over and tapped him on the shoulder.
“You’re pretty good,” Desmond said casually. The man’s posture tensed at his words, and Desmond held up his hands. “Look, buddy, I need your help.”
“None of my business,” the man said.
“I’ll give you what I’ve managed to take in exchange for your jacket and pack,” Desmond said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the wallets he had stolen. Opening it, he pulled out a stack of cash. The man’s interest was palpable as his eyes followed the money.
“I can’t say no to a little cash,” he agreed, sliding off his jacket. He emptied his pack before handing it to Desmond as well. “You get made?”
“Further up the pier,” Desmond lied. He stuffed his jacket into the bag and pulled on the other man’s. “Think I’ll try someplace else for a while,” he said, pressing the cash into the other man’s hand. The man gave him a jaunty wave as he disappeared into the crowd again.