Chapter Text
Altair stared at the infamous Apple Of Eden. To be honest, it wasn't much to look at. In fact it reminded him of a small child's toy, something to be kicked around and, well, played with. The door swung open noisily Malik, undoubtedly glaring at the back of his head, stomped in and made his presence known with much harrumphing and the loud clanging of books as he slammed them down and shuffled them throughout the library. He never said anything though, pouting and making faces at him in a way that even though it seemed childish never came off as anything less than the refined manner in which a cat were to plot its master's death. Although Altair was certainly not Malik's master and he doubted he ever would be. Actually he was resolutely certain that that would never happen.
An unwanted feeling of regret and shame rose as he let his eyes follow Malik in the room. Watching him do everything slightly modified without his arm, he squashed the feelings down, because that was a long time ago. Kadar was a long time ago. They had been children... He glanced down, the creeping thoughts sneaking up like snakes into the forefront of his mind. They had been children, Kadar died as a child, an entire life to live. A life that Altair might as well have taken personally. He clenched his jaw and shove the unnecessary thoughts back into the shadows of his mind. He would not think about the past, there was no reason to. He couldn't go back and change it. And any sort of reconciliation or redemption that he could've recieved was wasted with his own arrogance and immature actions. He would have shaken his head to get rid of the rampaging thoughts that were suddenly plaguing his mind, but that wouldn't have been very Altair-like so he refrained, he had an image to keep after all.
The Apple glinted just then, causing Altair's attention to be instantly captured, he had let himself get lost in meaningless thoughts and now the sun was setting. A deep shade of burnt orange illuminating the room through the windows of which he could have sworn he'd drawn the curtains on. How could he have not noticed Malik draw them open again? Or the breeze for that matter. He dropped his gaze back down to the apple, an arm lifting of it's own accord, lazily reaching out to it, his fingers just barely grazing over its surface.
~
Ezio, rather lecherously, admired Leonardo's backside as he bent over to retrieve the numerous pastels that had been knocked over by Malik, Leonardo's curious new cat-friend. Apparently he had become struck with wanderlust late one evening and decided to quench his newfound thirst for the unexplored outdoors by taking an impromptu stroll through the dirty back alleys of Venice (because Venice is an incredibly unpopulated and "unexplored" wilderness). Not a particularly bright idea for one acclaimed as a genius. He ended up lost in the many winding roads in between the shops and behind the houses until he found himself in a very unsavory part of town, and who wouldn't prey upon the disheveled confused blond man, barely old enough to grow whiskers with bright blue eyes. Who wouldn't take such a ripe opportunity? Apparently not a single member of Venice's countless thuggery. Instead he found himself stooping above puddle. In which contained a whimpering mass of devilry. You see, nestled in the grime and filth of Venice's underbelly was a kitten. Small, malnourished, wide eyes, and a hurt left front paw. It took one mewl before Leo had him in his arms. It took hours before Leonardo had found his way home.
Ezio personally didn't like the thing, and it didn't like him either. Somehow, by whatever satanic means it also managed to steal most of Leo's attention, blasted thing. It was omnipresent, always there, always lingering. Creepy ass cat. And it was just so odd, he'd never met a cat to act so keenly like a man. A possessive one at that, sure as hell doesn't like it when people get to close to Leo. His face still stung from those devil claws. He glared harder at the animal, and if Ezio didn't know better he'd say the thing glared back.
Ezio turned his attention to the "Apple Of Eden" the reason he was there in the first place. He'd wanted Leo to watch over it for him while he took a trip to Constantinople, a quick journey to secure and ensure his most recent attempt to branch an assassin's guild there. But things were moving slowly, and he'd begun to have his suspicions when the reports began slowly and becoming shorter.
Clearing his thoughts he reached out, fingers splayed across the cool surface.
~
Desmond did his best to drone out the incessant ramblings of one Lucy Stillman. He grumbled something about women to which Lucy started a whole new rant about how much of a sexist ass he was being. The door opened and Shuan and Becks(as she had been nicknamed) waltzed in looking quite content. He had no doubt why as he took in Shuan's slightly disheveled hair and rumpled shirt, then Rebecca's bruised neck and swollen lips. He returned his attention to the computer screen in front of him and started a new game of Solitaire; thankful that Lucy's angry rambling was now directed at them for being late. Desmond had to repress his grin when she demanded why. As strong of an assassin as she was, she could sure as fuck be oblivious sometimes or maybe she was just that innocent and naïve. Desmond didn't care either way because the stuttered out lies were enough to get him grinning like a mad hatter. He ignored his strange comrades and zoned in on the "Apple Of Eden", he tentatively let his hand drift towards it, a bad feeling creeping up his spine then going back down and residing in his stomach. He let his fingers touch it gently in what could've been called a tender caress.
~
A white light flashed, blinding all three of the assassins upon contact of the apple. The sensation of falling overwhelmed them and they found movement impossible, a paralysis overcoming their limbs. Their vision still inept and all action unavailable, panic spread like wildfire through all of their minds.
THUD!
Altair groaned, he had hit the cold stone-ground-pavement thingy hard, it knocked the air out of him and left him breathless. He barely had time to open his eyes before something fell on top of him. Needless to say Altair was pissed, which is why he had his hidden blade out and at the throat of the offending…person? He grunted as another fucking 230 pounds got dumped on him.
~
Desmond hadn't felt this shitty since…when the fuck had he ever felt this shitty? He was abruptly blinded, immobilized, than slammed down on something hard yet mushy… It weird to say the least; especially when he opened his eyes and realized that "hard yet mushy" thing had a blade at his throat. But he didn't have much time to absorb that before 230 mother fucking pounds came down on him sending his face straight into said hidden blade. SHIT. Thankfully, when the fucking elephant landed on him, the blade was jerked way from his face and instead of looking like shredded tuna, he was currently suffocating. His face ended up jammed into the crook of whomever's neck, whatever this guy was wearing was, conveniently, making the process of breathing very difficult. AND he couldn't pull his face away to breathe because the elephant had him pinned. Just great.
~
Huh well that was different… Ezio looked down at what he had landed on, which was surprisingly comfy. He realized rather quickly that he had landed on people. Huh.
"Gurumph!" A very displeased sounding voice had said, "Get off." No one however had understood him because, not only did it come out muffled and warped, at the very same time he had decided to speak Altair shoved them both off of him and stood. He swiftly strode over to them and kicked the fat one off of the other. The quick gasping of Desmond was the only thing heard, apart from the groan the elephant had emitted when he had landed.
"You fat fuck!" Was the first thing Desmond said as he stumbled onto his feet and loomed over an innocent Ezio.
"Are—Are you talking to me?" Ezio asked; disbelief laced into his voice as he stared in shock at the strangely dressed man who was both younger and shorter than him.
"Who the fuck else do you think I'm talking to?" He was out of breath and pissed. Something fucking broke when Ezio had landed on top of him and it hurt.
"I am NOT fat." His astounded voice said "fat" as if it was a horrible disgusting thing. Desmond paused, he felt his fucking air supply cut off as he looked down at the all too familiar Ezio Auditore.
~
Nononononono, NO. That was NOT Ezio Auditore he was looking at, nope. Just some freak look alike. NOT him, he was looong dead. Impossible, he was dead, so obviously he couldn't be in front of him. It was a freaky look alike. Yes just a man who was dressed in the exact same thing Ezio was fond of wearing, the exact same haircut Ezio had had since he was 13, and happened to look exactly like him down to the scar on his lips. But definitely NOT him.
Desmond's feet sent him stumbling backwards in shock. Stumbling backwards right into Altair. He swiveled his head around the second his back had bumped harshly into something. What he saw sent him stumbling backwards yet again, until his feet tripped over Ezio's laying body. He landed sharply on his ass, but continued to crawl backward until his back connected with the wall. A wall? Desmond took in his surroundings, and realized that he was NOT in Kansas anymore.
The walls were covered by a thick tapestry, depicting scenes of armored nights and pale horses. There were no windows to be seen, and the door was made of thick oaken wood. And he was sitting on his ass in a room completely devoid of anything, no furniture, no sense of any sort of usefulness. Just a room. A room with Altair Ibn-La Ahad and Ezio Auditore de Firenze. He felt a headache coming on.