AN: PLEASE READ! To all my fellow Fragile Ground Fans and beginners. Thank you so much for your support. And as a thank I have decide to remake Fragile Ground because there are some things that I wish to improve. The concept is the same and even my favorite scenes will return. Much has change though and will keep you interested (I hope). The main OC has a new name (in honor of my favorite show and movie) and she has a new background. But the mythology will return. And the realities of video game universe and hers will be blended together. Please RATED AND REVIEW! With love! Also just something for readers, I write as a hobby and not as a career. Also, I have dyslexia and writing helps me train my brain. So please understand when my grammar is off or not up to standards. I'm here to express my creativity and have fun. Thanks

Chapter One: Jet-lagged

My life was by far an insignificant one, despite my job. My mother and father had passed down quite a bizarre family business as an action stunt double. Both of my parents were extremely active in their career and it was only natural that those traits would past to me. From kung fu to aikido, my father was the fighter and learned about every style of defense. However, my mother wasn't much of a fighter and more of a runner. Of course, she knew basic defense but that wasn't her expertise. She was the gymnast and dancer. So my field of expertise was quite board and I did more choreography than actual working in the middle of the action. With my parents' reputation, I was able to acquire a relatively good job right after high school.

However, not everything happen as smoothly. Once I was moved out and had a stable job with Hollywood Stunt Coordinators, my job had landed me in the middle of the Italian countryside. Honestly, I wasn't much of a traveler and had hope to stay put in L.A. and working at the homestead. And what's worse my plane was currently delayed in Düsseldorf, Germany. A two hour stop became a four hour stop. Never a good idea to travel in Germany during winter.

A woman began to speak over the loudspeaker as I waited in one of those uncomfortable airport chairs. "Flight 123, From Dusseldorf to Florence, is still delayed for one more hour. Flight 14…"

A chorus of groans came from the surrounding group of people. I huffed as well and decided that I should go the nearest coffee shop. There was one a few feet away beside a gift and souvenir shop. Luckily there was no line and the menu offered more than coffee. I skimmed through the many choices before I saw what I was hoping for, chai tea. I ordered quickly and the clerk smiled kindly.

Nothing smells better the cinnamon goodness of a warm chai tea. Distract by the warmth sweeping through my gloves (could not handle any bit of cold inside or out), my shoulder suddenly slammed into someone. Fortunately, my reflexes saved my tea.

Quickly, I turned to face the person and apologize, "I'm sorry."

"No, it was me. I'm sor-," He stopped mid-sentence and just stared at me wide-eyed. Honestly, the gaping wasn't in a creepy way more like stars-trucked. Look I may have been a stunt double for Hollywood but I was anything but famous. He literally froze in front of me until he mumbled something that he shouldn't have known, "Dido?"

Now it was my turn to be wide-eyed. Only my family and good friends call me by that name. Shocked, I stuttered, "Ex-Excuse me?"

"Desmond! We have to go!"

A blond woman ran over and grabbed his arm to pull him back with his group. Another female and male was waiting impatiently behind them. Instinctively, I stepped forward to follow them before I realized something else rather familiar about the four. My eyes squinted after them as I thought hard as to where I had seen them before but to no avail. With a shrug, I headed back to my uncomfortable chair. I sat there deep in thought, ignoring the chatting around me and my now cold chai tea. I was confused and somewhat annoyed that I could not remember who that person was and how he could possibly know that name. Giving up, I decided to waste the next thirty minutes trying to call my mom. She finally answer after the third try.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom, sorry did I wake you?"

"No I was in the shower. It's only 11:15 here. Are you in Italy?"

"No, the weather caused a delay. They say another hour but I don't believe them."

My mom laughed, "You never should."

"Mom, did you know of a man name Desmond?"

She paused for quite a while before saying, "Desmond? No, why?"

For some reason I didn't believe her and I didn't want to press the issue. However, I heard my dad walk into the room and ask who my mom was talking to. She answered while adding in the question I had asked her. My dad answered, "No I don't know of a Desmond. But wasn't that the name of the main character in that video game…oh what was the name?"

"I'm not sure. I don't remember, Dad."

"OH! Assassin's Creed II?"

I nearly dropped the phone. Suddenly, I grew quiet as I stared at the direction that the group of strangers rushed in.

"Dido? Are you there?"

"It can't be…" I whispered as I felt my memories flood back of familiar faces of my favorite video game.

Clearly, I was jet-lagged. There was no way I saw real characters from a video game. Sad part about the entire hallucination was still bothering me even after landing in Florence. Even days later, I was still rethinking and re-dismissing the idea that I even saw Desmond.

Luckily, yet unfortunate for the movie, a sudden and unwarranted storm hit the area we were filming today. Heavy rain blinded window shield of the taxi and he was driving slower than I thought possible. We were a few hours outside of the city. I didn't know any Italian and he spoke little English so the car ride was long, tense, and quiet.

I stared out into the gray abyss as my mind continued to reason with what I had witnessed. The details of Desmond's face were somehow coming back to memory. Honestly, I hadn't played Assassin's Creed in a few years as life was too busy for any sort of leisure activity. But Desmond was pivotal character and the one person the player invests in. The more I thought about it the more I wished I was back in L.A.

Relived, yet stunned, the car hit a pothole and jogged me out of my thoughts. My attention returned to the schedule laying in my lap. The producers stated that the schedule was due to change because of the weather. So memorizing the schedule was pointless. I considered calling the producers and arranging for a practice choreography later in the day. As I reached for my phone the taxi driver cough and caused me to glance up. Once again, I felt myself stared dumbfounded into the rear-view mirror. At that moment I could not remember for the life of me what color of eyes that taxi driver had. However, the black pools staring back at me in the mirror were definitely not his previous color. He never looked away. Even when he pulled the steering wheel hard to the left. And those black sinister eyes was the last thing I remember.