In the morning, he searches for Desmond's strange pulse and finds him nowhere at all. Huh, Sedici thinks. He must've found a way out of the world. Though where he could've gone, Sedici doesn't know. He spends the time practicing piano, wondering who was so important Desmond wanted to abandon paradise.
Two days later, Desmond's pulse is still gone.
--
He takes a car and drives until the world ends, until there's a glaringly white grid beneath his feet and an ivory horizon. Bits of data flicker around him, distracting, but he ignores them. Where did Desmond go? he thinks. He thinks it loud and hard, an iron command to the Animus he inhabits. There is no response. “Where is Desmond?” he calls aloud.
Black walls form around him. Sedici stumbles back in surprise, then smiles when he sees the handholds and gaps of the strange obstacle course that forms before him. Ah, he thinks. Some sort of challenge?
It's easy enough. He scales the walls and jumps the gaps, letting himself fall back into the soothingly familiar mindset of Ezio. By the time he reaches the end of the puzzle, he's fully immersed; he finds himself thinking ildly of Venezia and Leonardo, his family – but no. Sedici, he thinks firmly, panting as he recovers from the exertion. My name is Sedici.
He's been insane before. With agonizing clarity, he recalls his capture by Abstergo – their methods, their torture, their awful machines, back when Sedici was not Sedici at all, but instead someone else; someone he can't remember. They took the person he was and drowned him, left him gasping and dying as Ezio and all the other memories took over, until he couldn't remember who or when or where he was. Before he ended it, he left the last remnants of his sanity in the Animus; this is Sedici now, the amalgamation of everyone Subject Sixteen has ever been. I know who I am, Sedici tells himself. Not Ezio. Do not fall to madness again.
When he can breathe once more, he straightens and stands.
Before him is a door. He studies it curiously, then peers through; then, shockingly enough, he finds himself in a strange land.
Ah, he thinks, staring out. It's mountainous and cold and awful, but Sedici doesn't care; he numbs those sensations and ignores them. It's just a memory, anyway. Ezio's memory. Yet, when he looks down at himself, he is not Ezio; he is Sedici, still. He's been here before. It's when Ezio left Italia to chase the memories of a man named Altair, the great assassin. Desmond is going through these memories, trying to piece together his own consciousness so he may awaken and leave the Animus, Sedici thinks. Clever boy.
Before, he's watched, silently, from within the Animus, as Desmond relieved the memories of his ancestors. He even helped a bit. A nudge here, a hint there, twisting events just a bit to ease Desmond's journey.
It doesn't take him long to locate Desmond with his mind. The man stands tall on a jagged rock on a mountain, wearing Ezio's face, watching behind Ezio's eyes. Before him rises a building. Desmond tenses to jump, and Sedici smiles and thinks, 'no'.
The burst of wind that knocks Desmond to the ground is fatal. The memory flashes and fades, and Desmond groans is disappointment as synchronization is lost. Far away, Sedici chuckles.
--
He spends nearly a week thwarting Desmond's attempts to progress. It's the most fun thing he's done in ages.
--
The thing about Desmond is he really doesn't understand.
Desmond can't leave the Animus. He can't. It's foolish he even tried. If he leaves, he'll be at the mercy of Templars; here, trapped in a coma, his consciousness safely tucked away in Sedici's loving hands... it's better this way. For both of them. This way, Desmond is safe, and Sedici is not alone. And all Sedici has to do is prevent him from leaving.
--
They play for what feels like ages before Desmond gets tired of fighting. Sedici is quick and clever, and knows when to strike; Desmond never catches on, never realizes there is an unseen force toying with him – the sword that catches perfectly under his armor, the wind knocking him off buildings, the phantom noises that alert the guards. Desmond finally vanishes, and the memory disappears, abruptly throwing Sedici back into the world.
Ghost in the Machine 4/6
Two days later, Desmond's pulse is still gone.
--
He takes a car and drives until the world ends, until there's a glaringly white grid beneath his feet and an ivory horizon. Bits of data flicker around him, distracting, but he ignores them. Where did Desmond go? he thinks. He thinks it loud and hard, an iron command to the Animus he inhabits. There is no response. “Where is Desmond?” he calls aloud.
Black walls form around him. Sedici stumbles back in surprise, then smiles when he sees the handholds and gaps of the strange obstacle course that forms before him. Ah, he thinks. Some sort of challenge?
It's easy enough. He scales the walls and jumps the gaps, letting himself fall back into the soothingly familiar mindset of Ezio. By the time he reaches the end of the puzzle, he's fully immersed; he finds himself thinking ildly of Venezia and Leonardo, his family – but no. Sedici, he thinks firmly, panting as he recovers from the exertion. My name is Sedici.
He's been insane before. With agonizing clarity, he recalls his capture by Abstergo – their methods, their torture, their awful machines, back when Sedici was not Sedici at all, but instead someone else; someone he can't remember. They took the person he was and drowned him, left him gasping and dying as Ezio and all the other memories took over, until he couldn't remember who or when or where he was. Before he ended it, he left the last remnants of his sanity in the Animus; this is Sedici now, the amalgamation of everyone Subject Sixteen has ever been. I know who I am, Sedici tells himself. Not Ezio. Do not fall to madness again.
When he can breathe once more, he straightens and stands.
Before him is a door. He studies it curiously, then peers through; then, shockingly enough, he finds himself in a strange land.
Ah, he thinks, staring out. It's mountainous and cold and awful, but Sedici doesn't care; he numbs those sensations and ignores them. It's just a memory, anyway. Ezio's memory. Yet, when he looks down at himself, he is not Ezio; he is Sedici, still. He's been here before. It's when Ezio left Italia to chase the memories of a man named Altair, the great assassin. Desmond is going through these memories, trying to piece together his own consciousness so he may awaken and leave the Animus, Sedici thinks. Clever boy.
Before, he's watched, silently, from within the Animus, as Desmond relieved the memories of his ancestors. He even helped a bit. A nudge here, a hint there, twisting events just a bit to ease Desmond's journey.
It doesn't take him long to locate Desmond with his mind. The man stands tall on a jagged rock on a mountain, wearing Ezio's face, watching behind Ezio's eyes. Before him rises a building. Desmond tenses to jump, and Sedici smiles and thinks, 'no'.
The burst of wind that knocks Desmond to the ground is fatal. The memory flashes and fades, and Desmond groans is disappointment as synchronization is lost. Far away, Sedici chuckles.
--
He spends nearly a week thwarting Desmond's attempts to progress. It's the most fun thing he's done in ages.
--
The thing about Desmond is he really doesn't understand.
Desmond can't leave the Animus. He can't. It's foolish he even tried. If he leaves, he'll be at the mercy of Templars; here, trapped in a coma, his consciousness safely tucked away in Sedici's loving hands... it's better this way. For both of them. This way, Desmond is safe, and Sedici is not alone. And all Sedici has to do is prevent him from leaving.
--
They play for what feels like ages before Desmond gets tired of fighting. Sedici is quick and clever, and knows when to strike; Desmond never catches on, never realizes there is an unseen force toying with him – the sword that catches perfectly under his armor, the wind knocking him off buildings, the phantom noises that alert the guards. Desmond finally vanishes, and the memory disappears, abruptly throwing Sedici back into the world.