Just Awful

A/N: For the sake of this awful story, let's just say… In this AU, Desmond has had one too many heavy, dense things fall onto his unsuspecting noggin. We'll just assume that Desmond lives in the contruction district where the workers have a few too many lunchtime beers, and become the teeniest bit butterfingered. Aside from the skin cells that were ripped off his scalp every time something fell onto it, IQ points were unfortunate enough to join them in their descent. Now, although I am poking fun at Desmond in this story, and I think he asks too few questions in the actual game, I really do like him. This was just a piece of random fluff I threw together. Truly, it is an irrelevant story. It's all in good fun, though. Enjoy!

They were all bastards. Those damn assholes at Abstergo were slowly ruining his life, day by day. They would pay. The fat cats were gluttonous pigs, slurping up their whole milk and fresh manure to roll around in, while others were left to dwell in the monotony that was real life.

Desmond Miles had been perfectly happy with his monotonous reality, thank you very much. That was, until he bumped uglies with the fat asses at Abstergo.

And tonight, he was going to do something about it.

Decked out in all black, Desmond crept out of his apartment, although there really was no need- he lived by himself. However, it got him in the mood. With light, quick steps, he raced down the stairs- the elevator was broken, and the landlord was too busy being a pretentious prick to do anything about it. (And when you were a pretentious prick who runs a shithole apartment building, you make more enemies than friends, and the only way you were leaving your crappy apartment was if you were suffering from a severe stroke. So, in the end, Desmond really didn't blame his landlord for not fixing the elevator. Although he did blame him for being a pretentious prick.)

Once outside his building, Desmond began the short walk to the huge building that was Abstergo's main headquarters. He held the package under his arm extra tight, praying no one would walk into him. At the time, he didn't realize that there was enough sidewalk space at 3am to accommodate him and a 300 pound business man carrying an equally heavy suitcase, with room to spare.

The Abstergo building loomed up in front of Desmond, and he smiled diabolically. Had someone been around, they would have noticed the slight twitch his eye gave. Quietly as possible, Desmond swung the bag off his shoulder and laid it on the ground. He pulled out two beige cartons and sat them next to his shoulder bag.

"Motherfuckers," Desmond whispered, as he let fly.

***

Smiling, Desmond stepped away from the building to admire his handiwork as a whole. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice the two hulking figures make their way towards him from alleys on either side of the building.

"That him?" One mumbled to the other.

"You've got to be shitting me. It's never this easy," The other one snorted, cracking his knuckles menacingly. Desmond heard the cracks and glanced up. His face changed from pride to wariness instantaneously.

"Desmond Miles?" The first man asked, his beady eyes staring at into Desmond's.

"Who wants to know?" He was starting to sweat.

"Me." The second goon growled.

"No, I'm not," Desmond lied with a straight face, knowing that these guys were unlikely to be informing him of his winning that trip to the Caribbean, or informing him of any good news.

"What are you doing in front of our building at 3am?" Number one asked with narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing?" Desmond shot back.

"Lookin' for you," Number two snarled.

"Looking for who?"

"Desmond Miles."

"I'm not Desmond Miles," said Desmond Miles.

"We have your picture, idiot. We know you're Desmond Miles."

"Umm… No. I'm not Desmond Miles," said Desmond Miles.

Number one looked at Number two with a smirk on his face.

"You're coming with us then, whoever-you-are." Number one grabbed Desmond's arms and twisted them behind his back, and Number two took an arm from Number one, and they dragged Desmond towards to building.

They stopped, however, when they saw the front of the building. It was covered in-

"Eggs?" Number two said disbelievingly.

"You threw eggs at our building?" Number one asked incredulously.

Number two was shaking.

"You're all bastards!" Desmond yelled, struggling.

Number one shoved a cloth into Desmond's mouth, making him gag.

Number two was laughing. Hard.

"Fucking… eggs! He threw… fucking… eggs!" He spat out between spurts of laughter.

Desmond said something, but it was blocked by the cloth. It sounded vaguely like "vacuum".

"What the hell would Vidic want with this idiot?" Number one wondered out loud. "He can't have had smart ancestors. He's a complete ignoramus."

"Maybe it skips a generation." Number two said, having gained control of himself.

Both men snickered. Desmond eyed them angrily.

"The sad thing is," Number two continued, "Is that, if he is the right guy, and he did have smart ancestors, it was probably some cruel, cosmic joke. They made all of the even generations really smart, and then they overcompensated, making this dumb fuck in the odd generation."

Desmond flailed, managing to catch Number one in the cheek, leaving a deep scratch.

"Motherfucker!" Number one yelled, blood escaping from the wound. He punched Desmond in the nose, causing blood to come pouring out.

"Stop being such a girl," Number two chided, tightening his grip on Desmond.

They were in the right room now, waiting for Vidic to meet them- they didn't wait for long.

Warren Vidic strode in with a frown on his face, shouting at someone on the other side of the door.

"Well, tell those dumb shits that they better have it ready soon, or I'll have to use their combined brain power to power the fucking thing, although I doubt that would give it even half of what it needs!" Vidic hardly glanced at his goons, moving straight towards Desmond.

"Greetings, Mr. Miles. From what our security tells us, you had quite an adventure on your way up here."

Having been given the use of his hands and mouth back, but flanked very closely on either side by the goons, Desmond merely flipped Vidic off.

"Go fuck yourself," He spat on Vidic's ugly nurse shoes.

"Ah- ah -ah, Mr. Miles. That's not how things go around here. Chad, show Mr. Miles what happens when a subject gives us mouth."

Number one- Chad- punched Desmond in the stomach, causing him to double over.

"Anyways, Mr. Miles, I hear you're unhappy with our company for some reason? Would you care to share your concerns with us?"

"You bastards are ruining my life!" Desmond shouted, taking a step forward. He was pulled back by Chad and the other goon.

"How so?" Vidic asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm a bartender. I work the swing shift. Before you assholes built your huge ass building here, I got to watch the sunset every night. But when you fuckers built this monstrosity, all I ever get is a face full of you shitheads every day at seven o'clock."

At that moment, Warren Vidic was the closest to laughing he had ever come in his extremely serious life.

"Let me get this straight, Mr. Miles. You like to watch the sunset from behind your bar. We built our building, and it blocked your sunset. And the cleverest revenge you could come up with was egging the front of the building?"

Desmond merely stared at him with narrow eyes.

"Very well. This has all been quite amusing, but we must get to work. Put him in the animus, boys."

"Yes, sir" The goons chanted in unison, dragging Desmond over to a contraption that was slightly glowing.

"Put him in."

"Yes sir."

Desmond found himself being thrown onto a flat surface, and unable to move.

"What the fuck? I can't move!"

Vidic stared Desmond up and down.

"Ah… Well, Mr. Miles, it would seem that the rivets on your jeans are attracted to the magnet inside the Animus. At least you won't be able to escape, unless you plan to do so without pants."

"Motherfuck." Desmond mumbled.

Chad snickered.

***

"Okay, Mr. Miles. Just relax." Vidic instructed.

"Fuck you," Desmond responded, aching to flip Vidic the bird, but afraid that his finger would be broken off in the process.

"Now, now, Mr. Miles. I don't want to have to call Chad back in."

"Chad. God, what a douchey name."

"I'm going to give you a sedative to help you relax." Vidic explained, locating a vein on Desmond's neck, syringe in hand.

Desmond's eyes went wide. "Fuck off!" He screamed, sitting bolt upright, but still unable to move his lower body.

"Mr. Miles." Vidic spoke through gritted teeth. "Stay still."

"No!" As Vidic moved to poke Desmond with the needle, Desmond moved downwards quickly, lying back down.

"Stay still!" Vidic snarled, starting to move the syringe more quickly. As he brought it towards Desmond's neck, Desmond sat up again.

This setup continued for a few more crunches on Desmond's part before Vidic called Chad back in to hold Desmond in place.

As Vidic stuck the needle in Desmond's neck, Chad screamed.

"That bastard bit me!" Chad yelled, releasing Desmond from the headlock he had had him in.

"Would you like a Hello Kitty Band-Aid?" Vidic asked sarcastically.

Chad slouched off, massaging his arm.

Desmond muttered something that sounded like "Good riddance" and he drifted off to sleep.

***

Desmond woke to an extremely angry Vidic, and an extremely confused and sullen Chad.

"You stupid shit!" Vidic was screaming, spit flying everywhere.

"I'm sorry sir! He looked exactly like Desmond Miles!" One of Vidic's spit wads landed on Chad's forehead.

"Motherfucker!" Vidic screamed, turning over a chair. "We are so fucked right now! I'm going to get my ass whooped! And it's all your fault!"

"I'm sorry!" Was all Chad could say. He had a plain Band-Aid on his arm where Desmond had bitten him.

"Throw him out!" Vidic yelled, sweeping everything off a desk, including a very expensive looking computer. Desmond felt sorry for the poor guy who now had twenty broken pencils, and one broken laptop.

Chad grabbed Desmond, and dragged him out of the room. As the door closed, they heard another crash. They didn't know it, but Vidic had just tripped over the chair he had knocked over, and had gone face first into the corner of the desk he had swept everything off of.

"What the fuck is going on?" Desmond asked, as Chad dragged him down a long, white hallway.

"You're the wrong Desmond Miles."

"What?"

"The wrong fucking Desmond Miles. You just happen to look exactly like him, and work as a bartender like him, and fucking live on the same block as him."

"So… I'm not being punished for throwing those eggs?"

Chad glared at him.

"Nevermind."

They had come to the front door of the building, and Chad was royally pissed.

"Get the fuck out of here before I mess you up." He threatened.

Desmond edged closer to the glass-plated doors, and took a deep breath.

"Chad," He said kindly, "You are a pig headed fuckface, who will never get a girl, because no one wants to sleep with someone who looks like their face got run over by a semi, and I will be sure to tell this other Desmond Miles to avoid any ugly fuckers like you. And trust me, when I tell him to avoid a fat, balding, ugly ass, he'll know it was meant for you, and you'll never get him. Fuck you, Chad."

And before Chad could react, Desmond was out the door, and sprinting into the darkness.

Chad blinked.

***

Vidic was fucking pissed. He was reviewing the Desmond Miles' session that he did not want to, but he had to file a fucking report for the suits upstairs. He started the movie, and sat back, embarrassed to be seen in the company of this awful shit.

It was the late twelfth century, and he was watching Desmond Miles' ancestor. She was an old woman, maybe sixty, and poor. She was a panhandler, begging people for money, and informing them of sick family members that she did not have, and would not help if she had actually had them in the first place.

Suddenly, a man wearing white robes that were belted in a red sash came sprinting by.

Vidic sat up like he was struck by lightening, and was a centimetre away from the screen. He hadn't watched this far into the footage before.

It was Altaïr! Vidic was so close, he could almost taste it.

The old woman got right into Altaïr's face, but he was moving too quickly, and ran right into her. She moved about him like a persistent bee, begging him for change. The shouts of guards could be heard, getting louder and louder. Altaïr looked extremely agitated, and eyed the woman with distaste. He reached into the robe of someone walking by, grabbed a coin, and handed it to the woman. In the middle of her thank you, Altaïr took off, shoulder ramming her into a rickety stand, causing it to collapse. He climbed up a wall, and was gone.

By this time, Vidic was caressing the TV and whimpering. He was so godamn close.

Vidic touched the Hello Kitty Band-Aid on his forehead, feeling the sting of the edge of the table. It had been an awful night.

A/N: The fluffiest of fluff in an AU, I am sure. Hopefully, that didn't diminish the slight entertainment it might have brought you. :)