Chapter Text
Shaun was 300% sure this was going to end terribly.
Call it intuition, call it common sense, call it a predictable outcome based on events so far. But yeah, they were clearly so fucked. It was just something about this temple, about Juno and her flittering, cryptic holographic warnings. About the obvious condescending attitudes of all the Isu and their blatant but as-yet undivulged ulterior motives.
The world was about to end and they – or Desmond at least – were about to save it. But there was just something… niggling at the back of his brain. That still, with all they’d learned, that still nothing would turn out how they were expecting it to.
“Anyone else incredibly uneasy about this entire plan?” he voiced out loud with a grimace as they strode across to the shimmering blue force-field gateway. “Not just me expecting there to be some giant horrific catch?”
“I am steadfastly not thinking about it,” Rebecca huffed with a grimace of her own.
“I shall have to keep my existential dread to myself then,” he snarked back reflexively. “Oh goody.”
Desmond, predictably, was as silent as ever as he pulled the cord holding the circular turquoise “key” from around his neck. Shaun didn’t know if he’d always been a quiet one, or if it was just them and the whole Abstergo kidnapping, animus using, and world ending situation that had made him that way, but he had noticed that his already sparse words had become even fewer and far between since William Miles had joined them.
Lots of uncomfortable history there, between Desmond and his father, that Shaun really didn’t want to poke at too hard. Or like, at all.
Before he could make another sarcastic comment about his laconic attitude though, Desmond raised his hand and gingerly pressed the disc against the shimmering blue force-field gateway. Shaun’s snarky remark died in his throat since he was entirely too busy being blinded by the near-explosion of light as the barrier expanded outwards with a static roar and then broke apart with a wave of ear-popping pressure.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath as he futilely attempted to blink away the after image that felt like it had burned into his retinas.
The bridge-like corridor stretched on beyond the now-open gateway, great slabs of horizontal concrete occasionally framed by grey cubic and rectangular blocks. Linear white-blue lights cut across them at irregular intervals, but they did little more than light up the path itself; the darkness beyond remained as impenetrable as ever.
Desmond glanced quickly at them all, before his expression once more hardened into resolve and he stepped forward again.
Rebecca was the first to follow, with William close behind her. Despite how sure he was becoming that this was all some sort of huge elaborate trap, Shaun didn’t want to be left behind and hurried to catch up, jogging a couple of steps until he was back in position at the tail of the little group.
“No really, this feels like a horrible idea,” he repeated as they quickly strode onwards. “I sense impending doom.”
“If you’ve got another way of preventing the entire planet from being cooked extra crispy, I’m all ears,” Desmond finally spoke up. His tone was one of wry amusement, and though his back was to him, Shaun could sense the slight smirk twisting his lips upwards.
“Stab the sun with a hidden blade,” Shaun offered inanely. “Build a giant forcefield ‘round the planet in the next couple of minutes.”
“Launch this temple into space as a shield,” Rebecca snorted, joining in. “Use the temple to uh, magically enlarge a hidden blade and use that as a shield.”
“As entertaining as this is,” William interrupted (sounding anything but entertained), “I believe we are approaching our goal.”
Squinting into the darkness ahead of them, Shaun realised the older assassin was right. Ahead of them on the bridge stood another abstract cubic structure, this one reaching about waist height. Suspended near the top of it, was a large glowing sphere, its surface partially covered in rectangular patterning.
Shaun thought it looked ominously like someone had stuck a pale blue night light into the Death Star.
“Yes… come…” a voice suddenly echoed from in front of them. “Here at last.”
Desmond marched right up to the glowing “eye” as the ghostly hologram of Juno flickered into view, but Shaun and the others allowed their steps to slow until they were stood in a loose arc at Desmond’s shoulders.
“You know our story now,” Juno continued on. “Of how we tried, of how we failed. All our hopes extinguished. Except one.”
The creepy precursor put one hand on the pseudo-Death Star as she uttered the last two words, which only served to intensify Shaun’s feeling of distrust. He’d said it several times already now, but there really was something off about this whole situation.
And oh – there it was! The catch.
Minerva materialised from behind them and immediately launched into an argument with the other Isu. Apparently Juno had insinuated herself into the very structure of the temple, such that using the Eye would unleash her on the world and humanity. And apparently enslaving the human race was her end goal. Yay.
Juno on the other hand, fervently insisted that she merely wanted to bring about world peace. Largely by force, it sounded like. She even went so far as to show Desmond some sort of vision of the future, one that left him blinking and disorientated.
And then the two wannabe-gods went right back to arguing with each other.
“Enough!” Desmond suddenly yelled, his face a picture of determination. “Minerva, I understand your concerns but I have to stop the world from burning. Your path, what you want, there’s no hope there. So either you find me another way to save the planet right now or my decision is made. We don’t have the time to do anything other than use the Eye.”
Minerva flickered silently in place.
Juno looked smug.
Then Minerva started to smirk.
“No,” she said. “You don’t have the time. Desmond, use the eye.”
“Uh, what?” Shaun blurted, thrown by her sudden U-turn. Minerva’s eyes were glimmering intently, the glee visible despite her being nothing more than a projection.
“Desmond! Use the Eye!” Minerva repeated more urgently. “Quickly now!”
“What have you done?” Juno demanded as she swivelled to face the other precursor again. “What have you planned!”
“Desmond now! Before she realises –!”
Desmond slapped his hand onto the orb and the world exploded in a blaze of all encompassing white.
There was white.
And only white.
Faintly, Shaun became aware that he existed. That he was a person with limbs and thoughts and a sense of self. That he was real and that he could move and think. That he could do things!
Then he became aware that he was underwater. And that it was quite dark actually.
He flailed in panic for a few seconds before his basic assassin training kicked in and he spun in a coil in order to work out which way was most likely upwards. Spotting a lighter patch of murky gloom, he kicked his legs and pushed his arms downwards, forcing himself through the water.
His head breached the surface and he greedily gulped in air.
“Shit,” he swore raggedly as he sluiced water off of his face. “Buggering fuck!”
His vision was blurry and his lungs still burning as he grabbed for what he presumed was the leg of a wooden pier. Hands shaking, arms protesting, Shaun hauled himself upwards onto dry land, silently resolving to do more physical training than the bare minimum demanded from him from now on. He’d probably never be able to free run and fight as well as Desmond or any of his ancestors, but Christ Almighty, at least he’d be fitter. Less likely to drown.
Flopping on his back on the rough wood, Shaun closed his eyes and groaned.
“Fucking hell!”
Sitting up again rapidly at the shout, Shaun twisted to stare at where Rebecca’s head had just appeared above the surface of what looked to be a river. His fellow assassin coughed roughly as she floundered in the brown water, chunks of debris and god knows what floating past her.
And then two more familiar people popped up next to her.
“Hey!” Shaun called towards them. “Guys! Over here!”
Rebecca spotted him first but Desmond was the fastest to shake off his surprise and confusion and scull his way to the wooden jetty. Bill trailed behind them with a grimace, his movements efficient but stiff; clearly Desmond’s father was not fond of swimming.
“Budge over,” Desmond rasped when he reached Shaun, accepting the helping hand and allowing himself to be dragged out of the disgusting water. As soon as he was steady, he turned to offer his own arm and together, the two of them hauled Rebecca and then William out too.
And then, half leaning back against a stack of rough wooden crates, Shaun groaned piteously again.
“Desmond!” he shouted in outrage as he futilely tried to squeeze the disgustingly filthy river water out of his expensive silver cashmere jumper. “What the bloody hell did you do!?”
But Desmond, of course, wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to him. No, Desmond was staring in wide-eyed horror at their surroundings. Their decidedly non twenty-first century surroundings.
“Oh lord,” William Miles swore lowly as he too turned to gape at the structures surrounding them.
There was a high stone wall that stretched upwards to their left, ending at a support strut for a large five arch bridge that spanned the river. It was formed of huge blocks of pale limestone, the same rock that seemed to make up most of the buildings beyond it. These all seemed to be at least three stories high and were topped by vibrant terracotta tiles that shone warmly in what appeared to be late afternoon sun. The front and sides of the buildings were criss-crossed by wooden beams, and balconies protruded from many of them. And the windows - it was difficult to tell for certain from this distance - but a lot of them seemed to lack glass and all of them were framed by brightly painted shutters.
In the other direction, the wall was much lower and curved downwards to meet the gentle swell of a natural river bank. It was primarily covered in low river plants and shrubs, but sandy paths cut through it, and wooden jetties like the one the four of them had collapsed on abutted haphazardly out over the water from it.
And then on the water were boats. Wooden, every one of them. Some with low masts and small white sails, but most little more than skiffs with oars. A handful being propelled along but the majority docked tightly along the river’s edge. Or hauled entirely out of the water and left to dry amongst the sandy grass.
But most noticeable were the people.
Warm olive skin typical of mediterranean areas, mostly covered by all manner of clothing. Historic clothing. Brightly coloured hose and doublets, long flowing silk and lace dresses, poofed out hats adorned with feathers and beads and piping. Boots, from low shoes to ankle high to knee high, but all of dark leather with varying amounts of gilding and buckles. Stockings and capes and elaborate belts.
A group of these strangely dressed people were standing on the low stone walkway that abutted their jetty, staring and pointing at them in amused interest.
“Oh shit,” Rebecca repeated eloquently as they stared back.
“Is this… is this Rome!?” Desmond stuttered out, turning to stare at the opposite bank of the river.
“In the late 1400s at a guess,” Shaun replied faintly as he morosely mourned the loss of his glasses. “Or early 1500s.”
“Oh shit,” Rebecca said yet again.