The Deserter

Desmond awoke to a dimly lit room. He was seated in a metal chair and his cheek felt cold from contact with the steel table. He sat up straight and began to scan the room he was in.

A one-way mirror stood half a meter off the ground to his left, a metal door was secured tightly a few meters away, and windows were completely absent from the room. Only a single fluorescent light bulb hung from the ceiling, its light casting a rectangular beam of light downwards. Crap, he thought, another interrogation room. Desmond did notice that he wasn't tied up—meaning whoever held him captive did not have violence in mind.

He quickly summarized last night’s events in his head. Lucy freeing him from his cell, a sprint for their lives through the Abstergo building, and a leap of faith off the building and into a helicopter brought him here. He needed to find out who was keeping him captive.

Desmond checked the door once more and noticed a delta shape with a curve for the base. The design was engraved carefully into the door with a greater focus on art rather than security. Definitely Assassin, he concluded.

Without warning, the door slid open and a man dressed in a suit entered the room. Successful synchronization with Altäir allowed Desmond to instinctively utilize Eagle-Vision—a technique that combined careful observation, spatial awareness, and behavioral profiling into a single tool. The man was hidden by the shadows, but his movements were stiff and he was circling around Desmond like a vulture. Desmond mentally marked the man as red—a threat—and readied himself for an attack.

“Mister Miles,” said a voice from the door. “I can assure you that Ben here is just following protocol and doesn't mean you any harm.”

This time, the ‘suit’ who owned the mysterious voice entered the room and sat down across from him. This man was around 50 and medium in stature. Stubble was visible on his lower jaw and although he shaved his head, less than half a centimeter of hair was still visible and starting to gray. His black eyes were emotionless and unreadable. Desmond relaxed a little and marked the man in front of him as white with a tinge of red—an informant with a hidden agenda.

“Let me introduce myself. My name is Lowes and I am the Bureau Chief of the New England Enclave.”

Desmond sat in silence and nodded his head.

“You may be wondering why we’re keeping you in this room.”

Desmond replied, “Simple. I’m a deserter. I have to be separated from the rest of the brotherhood until you’re sure I won’t stab you in the back.”

It was hard to forget the infamous mile-long list of Assassin rules and procedures.

“I hope you don’t take any offense, Mr. Miles. Being driven into hiding by the Templars raised the Brotherhood’s paranoia to new heights.”

Desmond just sat in silence, carefully observing both people in the room.

“Now, I’m going to skip the chit-chat and tell you why you’re here. And I can’t stress enough that we need your… experience to tell us the locations of the different Pieces of Eden.”

“That should be simple. You've got Lucy. Just ask her to retrieve the data. She probably has a copy.”

“That’s the problem… We have an Animus that doesn’t work yet, and the data uses symbols that just don’t exist.”

Desmond furrowed his eyebrows in skepticism. “No way, those ‘symbols’ can probably be translated and decoded. Try Latin or Greek.”

“True, but think about this. What if the data isn’t translatable to any recognized language?” Lowes paused for a short moment before he began again. “What if they developed a method of encryption that substitutes our alphabet for something else?”

“You’re saying…They wrote their own language?”

“Or they combined various languages and translated them into unusual symbols—no one can be certain. We can’t hack it until we have the actual software or hardware that they used to encrypt it.

“The Templars are just weeks away from finding a Piece, and a month from launching their Eden satellite into orbit. When that happens, the whole world is fucked.”

Desmond shrugged and leaned back against his chair. “Hell, I’m just a bartender pulled into all of this, what am I supposed to do? They'll find a way. They always do.”

“That’s why I need you to do something for me. We know we can’t access your DNA results, but we can slow their progress,” Lowes added.

He started to walk around the table in a circle. “The Templars operate under a leadership comprised of nine individuals, as you probably know.

“Before, they were confined to operate only within Europe and the Middle-East. Now, under the guise of the Abstergo Corporation, their influence can be felt in every continent—particularly within North America and Europe. That’s why we were driven underground last month.”

“But there are only six habitable continents—that’s six individuals. What about the other three?”

“They were placed in Research and Development. One recently died due to old age and the other was successfully taken out by one of ours, leaving Warren Vidic in charge of their R-and-D. Until their next selection process, Vidic’s stuck in charge of their operations. We need to stop those bastards and we need the locations of the other Pieces. Vidic is the key.” Lowes stared into Desmond’s eyes. “And you have to retrieve him.”

Desmond frowned, “Hell no. You can’t make me.”

The older man continued without allowing Desmond to respond. “As a deserter of the Creed, you do not exist in our brotherhood. You will be a shadow in the midst of the Templars—and shadows cannot be traced. You evacuate Vidic, you delay the enemy’s advancement. Then we find the next step.”

Desmond ground his fists and yelled, “Fuck! I’m a bartender! I serve drinks to customers. I try to survive with two meager jobs. I am an honest, working man. I DO NOT kill people!”

“You have no choice!” Lowes responded. “If you don’t, everybody loses their FREEDOM. Protecting freedom for the human race IS worth losing our lives for, Desmond.”

“Where is all of this trust coming from?” Desmond buried his face in his hands. “How do you even know I can get the job done?”

“Lucy told us you were combat-ready in her debriefing. You just need practice, rest, and food. Your dad was one of our best. Your bloodline was one of our best.”

Desmond knew that he had no way out—if he disagreed, he would be thrown out on the streets and Vidic would get his greedy hands on him. Desmond would rather die in combat than be tortured to death. He had no need to vocalize his decision—Lowes had already anticipated his reaction, he was sure.

Lowes placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and placed a piece of paper and a PDA on the table. “Here are the directions to your housing and a map of the compound. Your training will be an accelerated format of the one we provide now. Lucy was one of our best; she will be your mentor. Get some rest—you’ve got a long week ahead of you.”