"No, Desmond."
Desmond let out a keening whine.
"But Lucy, it's the freaking Fourth of July! I just wanna sit back and have a couple of beers!"
"You can't just 'sit back', Desmond. Vidic is getting nearer, and time is of the essence," Shaun snapped at him from his position at his computer desk. Desmond let out an angry sigh.
"Boy if I had a nickel for every time someone's said that to me..." he grumbled, slouching over the Animus 2.0. Lucy stared at his retreating back with a mixed look of pity and annoyance.
Yes, it was the Fourth of July, but Desmond needed to realize that they couldn't stop so abruptly with their work. Shaun was right. They had to keep on moving with the files and memories. None of them knew when Vidic would find them. They didn't want to take any chances.
Desmond sat down on the Animus with another sigh, closing his eyes as Rebecca hooked him up, placing wires at his temples and wrists, patting him on the knee when he was ready to go. He twitched away from her hand, scowling a bit. Rebecca sighed, going over to her computer, and started up the most recent memory. Desmond winced as the giant white expanse of the Animus loading lobby attacked his eyes, making them sting a bit.
He started jogging around, heading nowhere in particular, when Rebecca's voice cut into whiteness.
"Wait a minute...I thought the most recent memory was in Florence...?"
Shaun's voice joined hers.
"So? Yeah, it was, why?"
"It says Acre instead."
"What! Why?"
"I dunno! I think it may be a corrupted file...!"
"No I thinks, Becca! We need to be positive!"
"Well, shit, Shaun! I'm not a computer mastermind! Lemme work on this!"
Desmond looked around him, his auburn eyes widening. Images flicked all around him, from guards to horses to haystacks and beggars. It all changed so fast. The only sure thing Desmond saw was a figure walking towards him, shoulders back in a superior stance, even as he swaggered toward Desmond. The novice assassin squinted, then started to back away with wide eyes. Oh, shit...
"A-Altair!" he cried out, tripping over his feet as the figure sped up, taking long and harsh strides towards Desmond, his left arm twitching. Desmond knew that was a very, very bad sign. He turned tail and ran fast, going nowhere, but somehow managing to get farther away from the figure. He could hear heavy footfalls behind him, getting louder and louder. Finally, he was tackled to the ground something sharp and cold pressed to his throat, set against his pulse. He wheezed for air. A knee pressed heavily against his spine.
"Who are you? Why am I here! What is this place? And how do you know my name!" a harsh voice grated in his ear, a growl bordering on a feral snarl. Desmond panted for breath, hands flat on the ground beside his head. He swallowed, feeling the blade slide along his skin to rest against his Adam's apple. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"P-please, just calm down..."
"How can one calm down when one has just been ripped out of thin air and ported to an empty white room? Would you be calm!" Altair shouted, fisting Desmond's hair tightly, yanking his head back. Desmond hissed.
"Where am I?" he drawled, his voice low and dangerous, shooting shivers of fear down Desmond's spine. The younger man stuttered.
"I'm n-not sure e-either, just please, p-please calm down..."
Rebecca's voice came at them again, making Altair jump.
"Okay, Des, we're going to try and pull you out, okay?"
Desmond shook his head while Altair shouted questions at him.
"No, Rebecca, don't-!"
"Who is Rebecca? Where is that voice coming from?"
Desmond curled up into a ball, a sharp pain tearing across his torso, down his side to the base of his spine. Altair felt it too, back arching as he let out a pained shout, hands reaching for the small of his back. A burning sensation spread up their spines, drawing out long cries from them both. Neither of them felt it when their bodies collapsed heavily on the hardwood floor of the hideout's main room, nor could they feel the hot wetness of Altair's blood sliding across their skin.
They were deaf to the world.