Part 1 - Arrival

Hallway, Hallway, Hallway, sill a hallway, a big empty hallway….

Ethan leaned back in his seat, throwing his arms up in a long shoulder-popping stretch and throwing in a yawn for good measure. He readjusted himself a little, and then settled back down in front of his bank of monitors. The glowing LED screens proudly displaying HD footage of empty hallway, after empty hallway, after empty hallway.

Every once in a while a scientist in a lab coat would walk from one room to the next. Other times it was guards, dressed like him in Abstergo's "one size fits all" gray-navy-blue white striped uniform with matching messy-hair inducing hat. Still other times it would be those management types strutting around in their business casual outfits, making sure everyone else was doing work so they didn't have to.

As you may have gathered, Ethan wasn't too enthralled with his workplace life. On the top of his list of complaints was the restrictive nature of having a job at Abstergo. Due to the intensely secretive policies of the company, most of the guard staff lived on campus. Along with many of the other scientists and anyone else privy to secret information.

Just under that on his imaginary list of complaints were his coworkers. They were... hard to deal with sometimes. In fact, he only had to have a few conversations with them to get the feeling that Abstergo must bulk-buy all their guards from heartless-human-killing-machines R' us. In fact it was probably written right into the job description. "Wanted: large, powerful, morally corrupt tough guys to do the dirty work of an evil corporation. Please call (648) 555-673 to apply, ask for Susan."

But even if he didn't think his coworkers were a bunch of malicious street gang rejects, the fact remained that He was only here because of pure unbridled nepotism, and everyone knew it. They at least got the job because of their nastiness and brutality skills. He was just the boss's spoiled nephew who needed everything handed to him on a silver platter. That was just it actually. He was the boss's spoiled nephew, or more accurately Alan Rikkin's nephew.

He was born at the top of the Templar food chain, but sent back to middle management when it was decided that he was to soft and not intelligent enough to make it as a soon-to-be world leader. So he was shoved somewhere quiet and safe in the depths of the order to be forgotten. Well it sounds bad when you say it like that, but Ethan was hardly torn up about it. He never really bought into the Templar ideals, and something about forcibly controlling the population with some mystic artifact didn't sit well with him. Life at the bottom was boring sure, but it beat spending your days trying to find ways to take over the world like Pinky and the Brain. Let the rest of his family waste their lives battling Assassins and hunting magical Macguffins. He was perfectly fine with his safe, sane, normal life… well almost...

Lost in his thoughts, Ethan didn't notice when his superior (aka the Security Chief) walked in. which was quite embarrassing considering the man was the size of a small elephant. A sly smile came to the Security Chief's lips as he noticed Ethan's ineptitude. He cleared his throat, letting loose a sharp bark of words that his years in the military had perfected. "Rikkin get off your ass, you've been reassigned!"

The Security Chief always used everyone's last names, and he especially liked using Ethan's. Mostly because it was the same as his uncles, and the chief got a kick out of barking the big boss's name the way he would to any subordinate. Even though Ethan had gotten used to his yelling, he nearly fell out of his seat in shock at the suddenness. Turning around sharply and looking up blankly at his superior until the words that had shot his nerves registered. "I've been reassigned?" he murmured, unsure if he had heard right. "That's what I said daddies boy, now get your lazy carcass up. We can walk and talk." the Security Chief ordered turning round and walking out. Leaving Ethan to quickly grab his mp3 player and headphones, (essential for not going mad watching hallways all day) and scramble after his boss.

After a few steps of sprinting Ethan caught up to his commanding officer, speeding his step up to a fast walk to keep up with the larger man. "Excuse me sir but…" he begun, only to be interrupted with a blunt "did I give you permission to speak Rikkin?" Ethan's gaze fell to the floor, but he persisted anyway. "No sir but-"

"You have permission to speak corporal." His superior added, and Ethan could have sworn he was doing this on purpose. "Umm thank you sir… why am I being transferred?" the younger Templar asked trying not to sound annoyed. His boss shrugged one of his big manly shrugs and explained, "Well, the guy who usually monitors Animus testing lab two caught a bad case of dead courtesy of our little Assassin buddies, we need someone with clearance to take over."

Ethan nodded, since he was part of the family he was already aware of everything that went on in the facility, and thus wouldn't need to be briefed as to what exactly he was to be watching. Still, the knowledge of what he was to be monitoring suddenly made his stomach drop down into the floor.

The animus testing labs and two in particular, were usually filled with unwilling test subjects. Mostly captured Assassins who usually only lasted a few weeks before the side effects of the animus spelled a gruesome end, or they out lived thare usefulness… but he wasn't supposed to feel sympathy for the Assassins, so he would never voice his concerns.

He would never tell anyone, least of all his parents, that he had never completely found it in himself to hate the Assassins. In fact quite the opposite, he found them almost memorizing. The way they moved, the way they fought, it was like watching a ninja movie. They were the pinnacle of raw human power, and if you took from old stories and photos shown to him by his mother, they seemed almost magical. Of course they were also the enemy, and Ethan was on no uncertain terms with the fact that if he ever ended up near an Assassin who knew of his heritage, he was as good as dead.

So he kept quiet when the subject came up. Nodding when others threw verbal abuse at them, and shaking his head when someone told of another death by their hands. Keeping his thoughts of "they wouldn't have hurt you if you weren't trying to destroy their home" or "any governor who takes cuts from school board funding to buy a luxury mansion, probably deserves a blade up the Jacksy anyway" to himself.

It wasn't long before they arrived, and Ethan found himself in a chair that was far more comfortable than the one back in his old worthless-grunt housing office. A thick file was sitting on the desk, the Abstergo logo printed on the top, next to the words "subject 17". Ethan looked up to the screens, they were larger than his old ones, and they were much fewer than the head crushing number he was used to dealing with.

The Security Chief took a seat on the desk next to Ethan, the wood cracking under his weight. He picked up the file and began to flip through the pages, reading some of it out loud. "Their bringing in a new subject today, names Desmond miles, apparently this one is special, and His bloodline dates back to the Assassins of Masyaf." The military man's eyes met Ethan's as he added "kinda like you eh, Pureblood..."

Ethan didn't acknowledge the nickname. He had learned to ignore it after many months of living with his co-workers. He just considered it another part of his label as "the spoiled brat." The name had been created partly from the mainstream successes of the Harry Potter franchise, but more from the animus test that good ol' Uncle Alan had run on himself to find the base of his Templar heritage. Turns out that his, (and by extension Ethan's) bloodline dated back to the formation of the Templar knights. Thus the nickname "Pureblood" had been born. Just another reminder of his utter failure at being a Templar.

The Security Chief read out some more of the file, reciting some mundane details. Desmond Miles was 25 years old, (three older than himself) 170 pounds, (he hadn't weighed himself in ages but it sounded comparable) about 6 feet tall, (a few inches taller than him) and up until Abstergo found him, living in America. (He really did miss Denver, stupid satellite accident...) and he was booked for intensive study for the next week, in order to find some important information that was only hinted at in the file. It was likely more to do with those magical apples his family and ancestors have spent their lives hunting.

The file was suddenly dropped back onto the desk, making Ethan jump again. He looked up to see that the blank screens had switched back into life, and were now showing off a panoramic view of three rooms. Not a single corner was left unseen, if a spider walked up a wall on the other side of the room, he would be able to see it.

There was one large room, with the elegant form of a prototype white animus taking up space in the middle, its chilled server banks placed in the corners. A few pieces of furniture scattered the room, a large desk taking up the space on the opposite side, an open laptop and some files sitting on top. The other two rooms were a bedroom and a bathroom, not unlike his room back at the employee dormitories. Vary gray and minimalist, a few books and a desk but nothing else unnecessary, or if you thought about it the other way, nothing a prisoner could use to hurt himself or as a weapon.

Just then, on the other end of the room, the pneumatic doors opened. A hand patted Ethan on the shoulder just a little too forcefully, and his superior turned to leave. "Looks like the subject has arrived. Good luck Rikkin, try not to get too attached, odds are he won't last long." And with that he was gone.

Ethan turned back to the screens where two guards were pushing a stretcher into the room. On top, his body lying slack in what Ethan could tell must have been a drug induced slumber, was what must be Desmond Miles.

He was dressed plainly in a white hoodie and jeans, if Ethan had run into him on the street he wouldn't even have bothered to give him another glance. His hair was very dark brown, almost black, cut short as possible without counting as bald. Ethan raised a hand to his own medium length, half-curled, light brown hair. He had been wondering if he should get it cut, the style looked good on Desmond. The HD screens caught every detail of the subject's face. The shape of his head, the angle of his closed eyes, the half faded scar that crossed his mouth. Ethan found himself biting his lip, but he wasn't sure why.

Just behind the stretcher the head animus researcher Dr. Warren Vidic walked in, his blond female assistant close on his heels. The party soon trouped over to the Animus, where his fellow guards hefted the slack body onto the machine. Aligning his back and head into the proper position on the glowing blue indicators. A glass visor extended over his closed eyes, his body jerked suddenly. Then he lay still once more.

Vidic's assistant, who Ethan now saw was wearing a employee identification card that indicated her name was Lucy, walked over to the monitor attached to the Animus and started typing. Vidic hovering close like a vulture waiting for its shot at a carcass.

Ten moments passed, quiet and still. The clacking of keys, Vidic pacing, a few worried sounding murmurs from Lucy that were ignored by the Doctor. After a time, Ethan leaned back in his seat and relaxed a little, pondering if this experience would be that bad after all… That was until Desmond started writhing around on the flat surface of the Animus, his movements wild and unfocused like he was trying to push something, or someone off of him.

Lucy's tone turned from worried to borderline panicked, but Vidic was adamant to keep Desmond attached to the machine. The animus began to beep wildly and warning indicators flashed. Lucy made another appeal but was shut down. Desmond's features changed to that of someone experiencing a fair bit of pain, and his lips parted in a moan of desperation that made Ethan's heart tinge with sympathy.

The pressure mounted quickly as Desmond's pain increased, and Lucy's requests to stop became more frequent. Ethan found himself leaning forward, his mind racing. Desmond was valuable wasn't he? Surely they weren't going to slaughter him just like that. Vidic kept up his denial, until Lucy insisted that going on would kill the subject. Vidic relented and they begun to bring Desmond's mind out of the machine.

Ethan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and slumped back in relief as Desmond bolted upright, gasping like he had just survived drowning. Vidic brushed it off, still insisting that he had not just put the subject's life in danger. When Desmond's breath returned to him, he spent his next mouthful of air growling swear words at Vidic. The doctor didn't even flinch. He had seen it all before.

Desmond for his part had begun to find words. He was confused, that part was obvious. Apparently no one had told him anything before they tried to force him into the Animus. He reacted negatively to Vidic's attempts to quiet him, even throwing in a bit of dark sarcasm, which under any other conditions would have brought a smile to Ethan's lips. He changed the screen he was looking at, trying to get a better look at Desmond while Vidic paced. Throwing the word 'Assassin' at Desmond like an insult. He denied it at first, had they gotten the wrong person? No he said "not anymore..." then it dawned, Desmond was a runaway.

Looks like Ethan wasn't the only one who never bought into this war, only he had never had the courage to try to run from it. Vidic's voice bled through the speakers as he tried to calm Desmond, but sadly his preferred method of calming included death threats. Desmond didn't know he had it, but they needed it, and they would get it.

When Desmond looked up again thare was this look on his face, the one of a man who had no choice. He didn't even answer Vidic, but the doctor didn't need words. He instructed Desmond to lie back down, and slowly, the defeated Assassin complied. The glass slid back into place, Lucy and Vidic stepped closer. They talked to him, giving the rundown of the animus. Vidic going out of his way to make Desmond seem stupid for not understanding. Lucy was a little more hospitable, explaining what had gone wrong the first time and what they would be working towards. Then she lunched the tutorial program and Desmond went slack again.

Two hours later and Ethan was board, he had already read through the file he was given on Desmond but there wasn't too much new information besides the details of his escape from the Assassin hideaway, at the age of sixteen no less. When Ethan was sixteen he was playing GameCube games and whining about his math homework.

He watched the screens half-heartedly behind a game of Tetris he was playing on his phone. Putting it down quickly as the trance that had been affecting the room he was watching slowly lifted. Lucy pulled Desmond out of the animus, much to Vidic's annoyance. A few heated words were said as Desmond sat up stiffly. Vidic pulled Lucy aside to talk in private. Ethan didn't have a view of the room they walked into, so instead he watched Desmond as he extricated himself from the Animus.

So this was what an Assassin looked like. After all that speculation and footage of men in long white robes killing hundreds of armed guards, this man looked… frighteningly normal. He could have walked right passed this guy, not knowing he was an Assassin till his guts splattered the pavement. No wonder they were so dangerous. Still, Desmond had said it himself, he wasn't an Assassin anymore. He didn't do anything to be here besides have an extensive blood line.

Ethan was always told he was too sympathetic, it was one of the reasons he was written out of the main family line. There was no room for a compassionate Templar, especially towards Assassins. Looking at Desmond, it was hard to see how anyone couldn't feel bad about this situation. In fact Lucy seemed to be thinking around the same lines, repeatedly throwing herself between Vidic and Desmond. Ethan couldn't blame her, he had seen all of ten minutes of this guy (minus the time he spent flat on his back, in the animus or otherwise) and he already knew he liked Desmond. It was hard to put his finger on why exactly.

Desmond was up now, going for a short walk around the room. Looking at things, checking out his surroundings, maybe even checking for a way to escape… Ethan leaned closer, realizing he should be watching. Like the guy or not, if he somehow escaped it would mean a world of trouble for him.

Desmond looked at the furniture for a moment, walked by the desk, and tried to look out the window but the blinding sun shining off nearby buildings made it difficult. He even walked over to the animus servers, marveling a little at the cool fog that touched his ankles as he walked passed.

Ethan found himself staring, maybe it was the last few hours of inaction but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the other man. His gaze following Desmond from screen to screen without even thinking about it. The way he walked, slowly and purposefully, his footsteps light and almost soundless despite the echoing nature of the empty room… it was vary distracting.

After a quick poke around what would soon be his room, Desmond wandered into his bathroom. As his eyes switched screens, Ethan suddenly realized that as part of his job as a security guard he would be monitoring all Desmond's "activities" in the bathroom. Ethan's heart did a little flip in his chest as he pondered sitting here watching while Desmond took a shower.

But then Desmond did something that took Ethan's mind off of his second-hand embarrassment. He stepped up on top of the counter, pressing an ear to the vent. After a moment, Ethan figured out that he must be listening to the conversation in the next room. "Cunning little Assassin, I wonder if they're saying anything interesting" Ethan mused resting his head in his hand.

After a moment Desmond stepped down quickly, walking back into the main room just in time for Vidic to send him to bed like a parent with a difficult child. Desmond ignored him, and the doctor left for the night, leaving him and Lucy. Ethan listened quietly to the two talk, curious as she seemed to be about the new test subject.

Part of what Desmond told her resonated with him. Unappeasable parents who informed you of your place in this war at an early age, and pushed you to be the perfect weapon against the enemy. The only difference was he was taught in the skills for business, leadership, and control, while Desmond was trained to kill. No, that was wrong, there was one other difference. Desmond was strong. He found a way out, while Ethan just let himself fall through the cracks. Desmond earned his freedom, he had lost it.

But they were both in the same place now, under the heal of Abstergo. Forced to perform in a way that benefits the leader Templars or be squashed like a bug. Except they would never kill Ethan, but Desmond… he was disposable.

Lucy was talking about it now, trying to explain to Desmond just how fucked he really was. He had been careful, but nothing escaped Abstergo's eyes for long. Somewhere in his mind he noted that Desmond drove a motorcycle, damn this guy was cool…

Lucy snubbed him after that, no doubt scared to talk too much about Abstergo. Heck he didn't blame her. He would have been scared to, even being the spoiled brat didn't save you from his uncle's anger. Especially if you leaked secrets.

Desmond walked off to his room, and Ethan followed with his eyes. The door beeped behind him as it locked, much to Desmond's dismay. After a moment the Assassin slumped down on the bed, but he didn't sleep just yet. It took another hour before Desmond settled down, at first he just sat there, most likely thinking. Ethan could only guess what about, but it was unlikely to be happy things. Part of him wished he could do something for Desmond. Anything to keep his mind off of his captivity, and even worse the looming threat of being used and disposed of hanging over his head.

But Ethan could only watch, and at least Desmond didn't look to miserable. After a time he got up to look at the books, toss pencils at the ceiling, make paper airplanes. He even took a shower after he ran out of things to do. Ethan carefully averting his eyes, except for that one comparative male glance at his package. Turns out Assassins are well endowed.

Desmond crashed soon after, pulling on his clothes and falling asleep on top of the covers. Ethan watched him sleep for a time, counting the rising and falling of his chest. He got to about one hundred and fifty before his head dropped into the comfortable pillow of his folded arms, and he nodded away at his desk.

A/N

Expect the next bit tomorrow, like I mentioned before it's already written. I just broke it up into parts to prevent mid-editing suicide. Also the pacing of the story works is better with a little suspense. (Yes I'm mean, get over it.)