That inner faction I’ve been talking about it is making a move. There’s been more research into the You-Know-What since you left and they figured out what it does. Basically you get someone’s blood and you can see through their eyes, hear everything, know everything. Something like that doesn’t need to be in anyone’s hands, especially not theirs.
The leader is one of the three that tried to attack you that last day and he’s mad with paranoia. He wants to find It so he can keep an eye on any suspected group members, to make sure they don’t rise up again, to kill any of them that try to reform. There are a lot – more than I thought – who agree with that viewpoint. We’re trying to get a team out to try and intercept them but they’re ahead of us.
I think you’re our best shot to beating them there. I’ll be sending coordinates to your phone.
He read the email from Shaun twice more to make sure that he’d read everything right the first time and cursed under his breath as he checked his phone for the text. Those idiots. He understood that they were probably scared of losing what ‘peace’ they’d found – despite the fact that evidence suggested every time one of their opposing factions lost, it always resurfaced later – but this went against everything the Assassins were. To actually use the Observatory and, worse, to do so to kill any who might rebuild the Templars was going to turn them into the very faction they hated.
Haytham snarled a dissent that that was not how Templars normally were and he sighed before mumbling aloud, “Not the point.” The Templar queried what was the point then, his anger thrumming through their body and setting their blood to burn.
Instead of answering himself, he began to put up the laptop into his backpack and as he rose to leave the little cafe he’d been sitting at, Altaïr answered that the point was that this splinter faction was a creature born of fear and must be stopped before they could do harm to anyone. Their spying, he continued, on the surviving Templars will likely only be the beginning and they will eventually begin to spy upon anyone they deem suspicious, which will be highly dangerous to everyone.
Hence why we must stop them, Father, was Connor’s quiet contribution to the inner conversation.
We must keep them from becoming the monster we believed the Templars to be, added Ezio in something of a peacekeeping attempt.
Haytham sighed and he could feel the man regathering himself. After a moment he simply said Very well and went silent, retreating into the depths of their self that they all knew very well by now was a clear sign to leave him alone as much as they were able.
There was silence for a long time then, as he swung his leg over his motorcycle where it had been left parked and pulled on his helmet, Altaïr spoke up. We cannot beat a group alone, he noted. Even as skilled as we all are together, we are not that good. There was a grumbling agreement in response from the other two and it made him laugh aloud as he pushed the stand on the bike up with the heel of his boot. I am neither kidding nor amused, Desmond.
Neither am I, Altaïr, he replied before pulling out into traffic. Kidding, anyway. I am kind of amused.
The eldest of the Assassins in his head made an exasperated noise then Ezio asked, And what exactly is so amusing, ragazzo? We all agree that this is no laughing matter.
I believe, Connor noted mildly as he focused on the roadway, that he is amused that Master Altaïr admits we will need help.
There was a ‘noise’ like a snicker in his head – likely Ezio, though he wasn’t certain – then the aforementioned Master Assassin growled, You are lucky I cannot physically touch you, child, else I would take you over my knee.
Are we really squabbling like errant children? snapped Haytham angrily, suddenly surging back to the forefront from where he’d retreated to. Or are we going to do something actually useful and figure out our next move?
Sighing, he grumbled aloud, “I already know what our next move is, guys. We’re going there.” The air speeding by him would steal his words but no one needed to actually hear them anyway. Speaking aloud was just his habit when he wasn’t around anyone that would look at him like he was insane since talking back to them like they talked to the shreds of Desmond that were left felt like too many voices in his head. It wasn’t true by any means but it still made him…uneasy.
Silence answered him for a moment before Ezio queried, And then?
“Then,” he replied as a feral sort of smile twisted his lips, “we play with the fools until Shaun’s team arrives to back us up. We take ’em down, crisis gets averted, and then we can go back to surfing the internet in coffee shops and suffering through Ezio’s bad soap operas or whatever.”
You only say they are bad because they are in Italian, the man answered in an insulted sort of tone.
A language we all understand thanks to you, sneered Haytham. They are a preposterous notion of relationships and love with completely useless drama thrown into them in an attempt to make the whole debacle potable to the masses. When they’d first become one, such a comment might have gotten a sneer in return out of Ezio as he commented on the fact that the Templar certainly wasn’t one to lecture someone on relationships when his had turned out to be a spectacular failure. Now it merely was replied to with silence as a similar comment during that time had led to Connor falling into his native tongue with a series of curses that had left all of them stunned and their body seized up as the youngest of them had made every attempt to go after the second eldest because of the insult to his mother. Ezio hadn’t made that particular mistake ever again and the subject of Kaniehtí:io was labeled one of those things in their shared past that they didn’t touch.
Fine, Ezio huffed after a moment, they are terrible. Yet I don’t complain about your penchant for war movies, Haytham.
“That’s because you like war movies,” he pointed out as he steered around a car before taking the highway exit that led towards the city’s airport. “You don’t like the fact that he critiques the costumes, the props, or the accents.”
Because he does it through the entire movie! exclaimed Ezio.
And he’s right every time, noted Connor softly with the mental equivalent of a smile which brought a groan from Ezio and a muttered phrase in Italian that translated to ‘Not you too!’.
Shaking his head, he focused on the roadway ahead, the gentle ‘hum’ of his ancestors voices as they continued to playfully bicker a comfort even as the beginnings of anxiety at what was ahead of them began to churn in his belly. He didn’t know for certain what they would be facing when they reached the coordinates Shaun had sent but whatever it was…they would face it together, just as they had everything since the Grand Temple.