Chapter Text
"You know you can't procrastinate your way out of this? The issue's still gonna be there when you get around to it, just with less time to deal with it. And you don't have that much time left, Desmond, old boy."
Desmond sighs, looking down from the clouds he'd been watching. Clay is standing over him, hands at his hips and a foot tapping the ground, like an impatient school teacher, catching a student skipping class. Desmond makes a face at him. "I'm tired."
"Your body has been asleep for days, Desmond, you can't be tired. It's physically impossible."
"I'm mentally tired. I'm - sick of Istanbul. The architecture is going to drive me insane, it makes no sense," Desmond says and stretches out his arms before tucking them under his head. "I need a break, or I will lose it."
"Take a break and you'll highly likely lose it."
"Yeah? Gonna take a break anyway."
Clay eyes him dubiously for a moment, so Desmond closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see him. Maybe Clay will be gone when he opens them again, and it will be just him and the clouds, and he could pretend a little longer that he was seeing actual clouds and not, like… simulations of them.
When he opens his eyes, Clay is still there - now sitting beside him, looking tense and a little awkward. "The architecture is my fault," Clay admits. "I'm cutting as many corners as I can to save on processing, so there's repetition with the environment assets. That's why the buildings don't always make sense, they're kind of just thrown together."
Desmond gives him a look and then sighs. "The buildings are fine," he says and looks at the grey, grey clouds. "It's - it's not any one thing. It's all of the things. It's Istanbul, and this -" he motions around them. It's not exactly the island, or even Istanbul, it was the whole of it, really. Being stuck in the Animus with no way out. "This existence. I keep wanting to… I don't know. Log out. Eat, sleep, shower, take a walk, something. How long has it been?"
"Do you really want to know?" Clay asks.
"Yeah, kinda. But also kinda not," Desmond admits. "It feels like it's been weeks."
"Time moves faster here - but you should be used to that. Decades in the Animus can be just weeks outside," Clay shrugs. "But it's been five days, for your information."
"Jesus Christ," Desmond says incredulously and lifts his head. "Five days? I've been in a coma for just five days? You're kidding me."
"Time dilation for you," Clay says with an unapologetic shrug. "It's not really measurable, since it's just a matter of perspective, and obviously it's not real, but, hey, at least you'll get the experience of living out something of a full life before you -"
Clay stops there, strangled, and Desmond looks at him. "What?"
Clay seems to struggle with his words for a moment before blowing out a frustrated breath. "Never mind," he says, sullen. "I guess a break is warranted. And since time moves faster here, taking even a day off won't be the end of the world. Not yet, anyway."
That said, Clay throws himself down beside Desmond and glares up at the perpetually cloudy sky.
Desmond stares at him, and a terrible thought occurs. "How long have you been stuck here?"
Clay makes a face, lips pursed, almost pouting. "Since you put my code together, back in Rome."
Desmond thinks about it. "Clay, that was almost a month ago."
"I know," Clay says through gritted teeth and then sighs. "And yes, been here the whole time, thanks for noticing."
"Jesus, Clay." If Desmond is this tired after five days, what would it feel like after a month? "I'm so sorry."
"Yeah. Well, not exactly your fault, you're not the idiot who turned himself into code and all," Clay mutters and closes his eyes. "Guessing you're seeing now why I want out of here?"
"Yeah," Desmond says, lifting his knees and resting his elbows on them. For a moment he stares at the horizon, where it goes misty and grey and the sky blends into the water. It's not even a particularly beautiful horizon, and it never changes. There's never a sunrise, a sunset - hell, there's no sun at all. This, for… for however much time a month in the real world translates to? Holy shit.
He looks down at his fellow Animus Subject. "So, have you -"
There's a shockwave. There's no warning for it, no sound, no distant rumbling, nothing preceding it. The island is still one moment, and Desmond is blown over the next, trees shuddering, leaves rustling, grass flattening in a powerful gust of air that washes over the island in an instant - and just as soon as it happens, it's over.
Desmond sits up sputtering while Clay bounces back to his feet like a spring. "What the hell was that?"
"Something happening in the real world?" Desmond asks, scrambling to his feet.
"There could be a bomb going off in the real world, and it wouldn't affect this place, not unless someone went out of their way to code it in," Clay says and looks at him. "The only thing that could affect us here is you dying in the reality. And you're not dead." Clay pokes him in the shoulder, just in case.
"Ow," Desmond complains, knocking his hand off. "Felt like it came from the other side of the island."
Without further ado, Clay turns and jogs the short length of the island, to see.
In the far, far distance, beyond the blurry, foggy horizon, there's a spark of light.
"What is that?" Desmond asks, peering at the horizon. In and out of Eagle Vision, it looks the same - a spark of floating light, like a star suspended over the waves.
Clay looks vaguely offended. "I don't know. Whatever it is, it shouldn't be here."
"Uh, okay. And what does that mean?"
"It means I don't know, Desmond," Clay says impatiently and waves a disgusted hand at the spark. "I know this place inside and out, I put most of the code together myself, patching it from Abstergo and Crane's leftovers. That thing isn't part of the code. Why would there be a floating star coded into the Animus? When, in history, was there a floating star like that just hanging there?"
Desmond looks at him. "There's some weird stuff that happens with First Civ and their tech. The Apple of Eden makes things float and glow."
"... Okay, point," Clay says grumpily and crouches down, resting his elbows on his knees and scowling at the floating speck of a distant light. "It still shouldn't be here."
He looks unhappy and wary. It's not just that it shouldn't be here - Clay has a suspicion of why it is, and he doesn't like it.
"Can we go check it out?" Desmond asks, resting his hands at his hips and gauging the distance. He's pretty sure he could swim that far, and it's not like you can drown in a simulation. Not to death, anyway. "Is there a way to get closer?"
Clay hums, narrowing his eyes and thinking about it. "Maybe, yeah," he then says and stands up again. "I think I might be able to generate one of those row boats from Istanbul harbor here… I think I'll check."
"You're gonna…?" Desmond makes a wiggling motion in the air.
"Yeah, Desmond," Clay says, rolling his eyes. "Disappear into the aether like a magical fairy, precisely."
"You're my favourite fairy godfather," Desmond offers.
"Dork," Clay answers with a snort. "Be right back."
And then he's gone, leaving Desmond alone watching the glimmering star. It's oscillating, he thinks, or maybe turning in place - the light flickers steadily, like there's a beam of sunlight catching on the faces of a slowly spinning crystal. Maybe that's exactly it.
He really wants to go take a closer look, but figures it's better to wait for Clay. The programming of the Animus Island is a bit weird, and he's not so sure it's safe going poking around, testing its limits without his more experienced predecessor around. Well, at least he's not bored anymore.
Desmond sits down on a blocky piece of rock to wait it out. It's a much shorter wait than he expects, as before Clay can return from code-diving, something happens.
Some one crawls out of the water and onto the shore.
There's someone else on the Animus Island. Someone new.
"Whoa," Desmond says and quickly jumps to his feet, automatically going to help them. "Hey, are you alrigh -?"
A glowing spinning something that looks and feels like certain pain comes swinging at him, distorting the air it passes through. Desmond throws himself backwards, rolling out of range more by instinct than decision, and then has to keep rolling, because there is another thing of something now flying at him, tearing through the air like a spinning disk of glowing white laser.
Down on his fingers and toes in the sand, Desmond glances behind himself to see what the hell it was, and - yeah, spinning laser disk is about right. It's coming back, too, like a boomerang.
The person on the shore flips to their feet, a glowing disk in their left hand, the right catching the one in the air. The pose they strike, facing him with one disk aimed at him and another at the ready, is definitely a fighting stance.
"Okay, whoa, man, I wasn't trying to attack you," Desmond says, jumping to his feet but staying ready and on guard in case the guy threw another laser disk at him. "I was just going to help you up."
The guy says nothing, but he doesn't move to attack immediately either, giving Desmond time to actually take in what he's seeing. The guy is completely covered, from head to toe, in what looks like biker gear from cyberpunk sci-fi, faceless black plastic helmet and all. At least he's pretty sure it's a guy, the skintight leather-esque stuff they're wearing doesn't leave much for imagination. It also makes it very clear that whoever this guy is, they're not from Desmond's memories.
Pretty sure LED-lit clothing wasn't a thing back in the 16th century. Or flying laser disks of doom, for that matter. The guy even has lines of light on the backs of his hands, like bones. Definitely not common Renaissance fashion.
Very cool, though.
The biker guy from the Animus Ocean falters a bit, one knee giving out from under him. The lights on his clothing flicker from white to orange, sputtering like the power is going out, and the guy shakes his head.
Desmond narrows his eyes, making a mental note of that, and then asks, "Are you okay, man? Did you hit your head or - whoa -!"
The attack comes without a warning, and Desmond almost falls over, trying to avoid getting hit. Split of a second later the guy is there, coming at him with a laser disk swinging. Desmond blocks him instinctively with his left arm and follows it with a hit with the heel of his right palm against the guy's solar plexus. It… doesn't seem to have much of an impact.
There's no time to think - the fight is on, and it seems like there are laser disks coming at him from every damn direction. Ezio and Altaïr's memories didn't teach him how to fight against laser disks, but they did teach him to fight unarmed against opponents with short blades, and while the disks aren't exactly knives, their range is about the same. And either way, the best policy with anything weapon-shaped is to not get hit.
So Desmond ducks and weaves and parries and blocks when he can't, grabbing the guy by the arm and wrist to keep the laser blades away from his squishy bits.
Christ, the guy is fast. At first Desmond thinks he at least has the range on him, as the guy seems smaller - but that, it turns out, is all in his head. The guy isn't smaller - he's bending his knees, almost crouching, like he's constantly about to lunge.
He's also making a noise, a constant mechanical growl that sounds… a bit… like purring?
Desmond is so confused.
"Come on, can't we just talk about this?" Desmond asks, shifting his feet and trying to kick the guy down, trip him into the sand. The guy does a backflip and comes right back at him, disk spinning, almost fucking beheading him. "Okay, okay, fine, you son of a -!"
Desmond had been avoiding trying to disarm the guy, because, unlike his weirdo attacker, he doesn't have gloves to protect him from the glowing blade of doom, but, fuck it, it's not like he can lose his fingers in a simulation anyway -
"Desmond, what the fuck?"
And in the split of a second Desmond's concentration falters, the biker guy from the ocean trips him, slams him down onto the sand, and puts a laser disk to his neck.
And just as Desmond braces himself to desynchronization, the guy skitters away like a scared spider, the disk falling from his hand, the lights on his suit flickering, flickering, from orange to white.
"User," the biker guy breathes, and it sounds like a distortion.
Desmond blinks up at the sky and then touches his neck. He's got a nick, it's bleeding, but it doesn't feel too bad. His head is still attached.
Clay is standing over him, looking between him and the biker guy. "What the hell? "
Desmond jumps to his feet, watching the biker guy warily. He's on his knees now, clutching at his helmeted head, both disks now abandoned on the sand. He looks like he's losing it.
"Yeah, I have no idea. He came from the water," Desmond says and crouches by the closest laser disk. It isn't glowing anymore, except for the band going around in the middle. Without the laser glow, the outer edge looks dull and harmless. "I think he might've come from the spark."
Clay looks at him, at the biker guy. "The moment I turn my back," he says incredulously. "Unbelievable. Is he anyone you know? Since when is the Animus multiplayer?"
"I don't think I know him, and since you made it multiplayer," Desmond says and risks touching the disk. It doesn't immediately blow up or bounce at him, so he dares to pick it up. It's hefty and techy, and unlike anything he's ever seen before.
The biker guy looks up and then shifts from his knees to crouching down on the balls of his feet, the rumbling purr sounding from him again. Slowly, the guy picks up the other disk, every motion wary.
Desmond lets go of the disk and shows his empty hands. "I'm leaving it, see, not touching it."
"I think you should maybe touch it, since he attacked you," Clay says warily. "Should I generate some weapons? I think I can probably do that now."
"Just hold on for a moment," Desmond says carefully, keeping his eyes on the biker guy. The guy's lights are white - and he only attacked when they turned orange. Hmm.
Testing a theory, Desmond activates his Eagle Vision. The colours do match - the guy glows the same white under the view in Eagle Vision as his… light panel things do. Right.
Desmond picks up the inert disk from the sand. There's a flash of orange in the white. "Wait, wait," he says quickly. "It's okay. Here." He tosses the disk closer to the guy, who picks it up immediately, holding the unlit disks in his hands.
"User," the biker guy says again, and there's that distortion, like he's speaking through a broken speaker.
"No," Desmond says slowly. "Though, I guess, I'm an Animus user, but that's not exactly by choice. I'm Desmond - this is Clay," he introduces himself and then, thoughtfully, adds, "I'm Subject 17, Clay's 16. What's your name?"
The biker guy stares at them - or that's what Desmond assumes he's doing, it's hard to tell with the completely black face shield. He doesn't relax.
"I fight for the Users," the guy says and brings the two disks together, combining them before putting it on his back, where it snaps in place, magnetised.
There's a long, tense moment of silence.
"That's very… informative and all, but how about a name? How did you get here?" Clay asks. "Anything?"
Nothing. The guy says nothing, just watches them and waits.
"Okay," Clay says slowly, resting his hands on his hips with a very what the fuck sort of look in his face. "Fight For The Users it is, then. Did you come from there, Fight For The Users?" He points at the star.
The biker guy turns minutely to look at the star. He doesn't answer, but the purr coming from him becomes just a little louder.
"Okay," Clay says again. "That's… interesting."
Slowly Desmond stands up, making no sudden moves just in case that's what sets their guest off. "What does it mean? Is it a portal?"
"I think so," Clay says, folding his arms. "From one stimulation to the next, maybe. Crane and Hastings might be experimenting with the Animus hardware. Not exactly safe, with you hooked into it."
"Great, that's great," Desmond says, frowning. "Should we go in?"
Clay looks more than a little tempted. "You still need to go through the Nexus, lest you want to risk total mental breakdown in near future," he says reluctantly. "But we should probably take your new friend back," he adds, while the biker guy stands up, looking thoroughly out of place on the Animus Island. "Given that he doesn't attack you again."
He doesn't seem so inclined currently - but he doesn't seem to be all there, either. The lights in his suit are sorta pulsing, like any time they might switch back to orange.
Desmond knows a thing or two about being not quite all there, and he has to wonder. This guy, whoever be is… he fights a bit like an assassin, even with weird weapons and a weirder outfit. And if the way his head got screwed was anything like what happened to Desmond…
"Hey, uh, you," Desmond says, because calling the guy Fight For The Users seems kinda silly. "Do you want to go back there?" He motions at the portal.
Their guest looks at the portal, gloved hands squeezing into fists. He says nothing and turns away, almost flinching away from the portal.
"Oh-kay, I think that's a no," Desmond says and looks at Clay. "I don't know about you, but I've been around this block too many times to force someone back when they don't want to go."
"... Yeah, same," Clay says slowly and narrows his eyes, a look of suspicion coming to his face. "Hey, do you know a guy named Daniel Cross?"
Their guest tilts his head, the thrumming around him steady. "... User?"
"Hmm," Clay answers, frowning thoughtfully
"Who's Daniel Cross?" Desmond asks, glancing at Clay.
"Subject 4. Compared to you and me, Cross is definitely a user of Animus. An Animus substance abuser," Clay scoffs. "Though my information is a bit outdated when it comes to that. Could be that there are Animus dens and clinics these days, and Abstergo has a clientele of thousands of addicts getting high on ancestral memories."
Desmond makes a face. "There were a lot of Animuses at the Abstergo tower. I lost count at nine."
"Christ," Clay snorts, shaking his head and then jumps a little as the biker leather guy decides to move. He doesn't come at them, he's going for the middle of the island, but the move is very sudden.
"I guess we have a roommate," Desmond muses.
"Yeah, or a spy Abstergo somehow managed to get in," Clay says, eyes narrowed. "Could be that Lucy somehow installed a backdoor before… you know. I'll check it out - you babysit Mr Fight For The Users. Do not let him mess about the portals."
"Um," Desmond says in objection, wincing at the reminder of Lucy, but Clay has already disappeared. The biker guy is moving up on the island, stalking ahead with predatory purpose, and with a shake of his head Desmond moves to follow. Maybe, now that the guy is calmer, he can get some information out of him.
… Yeah, no such luck. Ahead of him, the guy stumbles a little, knees giving out as his lights start flickering again, white to orange. "I," he groans. "I fight f-f- for -"
Desmond winces at the broken noise of it, like a buggy audio recording of a caged tiger. It sounds painful. Poor glitchy guy.
… And then the poor glitchy guy is turning to him, lights ominously steady orange once more, glowing laser disks in hand. And would you look at that, he glows the same orange in Eagle Vision.
Oh well. At least this time Desmond knows what to expect, he thinks and flexes his shoulders, getting ready to fight again. If nothing else, it's an opportunity to test out Ezio's newer moves.
This time he's definitely disarming the guy, though, burns be damned.