Attention: I've employed (kidnapped) Shaun to write the summaries for me so enjoy...

Summary: Didn't you read it when you clicked on this? No? Then you deserve to be confused.

Pairing: Why would I know? It's not like she tells me anything *grumbles*

Warnings: Oh, I don't know, death maybe?

Disclaimer: My name is Shaun Hastings and I DO NOT own Assassin's Creed or any of the character's, voices, etc...and neither does she.

Shaun: Well now that's out of the way, can you let me go now?

Me: Nope :3

Shaun: What, why not?

Me: Shhhh...

Shaun: But-

Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhh!

Shaun: *Sits his snarky English ass back down*

Hey guys!

So it would appear that I've done it again, I've started a FanFiction that probably isn't going to get finished for over a year, sorry about that. But maybe you'll get lucky this time because I really like this fandom...like a lot...

So I've decided to be that person and use an incredibly over-used, cliched plot and try to make it my own somehow. Wish me luck :3

Desmond woke up to the smell of coffee. Panicking, he opened his eyes and shot out of bed, hidden blade at the ready.

He cursed when he realised that he wasn't Altair and didn't actually possess a weapon of any kind. But instead of seeing Vidic as he'd expected, he was surprised to look around and find no-one there.

He realised with shock evident on his face that he was back in his apartment in Queens. Looking around, everything was the same as it was when he left last week.

He almost laughed then. Left? Memories came flooding back of how he'd just got home from a long shift at work, when he dragged himself to the bathroom to take a shower, only to realise he was being ambushed as several men in black ninja-like suits had jumped him and smashed his head into the sink, effectively knocking him out.

Frowning, he went to check the bathroom and was surprised yet again when he found no blood on the sink at all. Had it all been a dream? No, it couldn't be, it felt too real and he could still feel the aches in his back where he'd been made to lie on the animus all day, every day, for a week.

He realised there was a very simple way of proving this to himself, something that even Abstergo couldn't cover up because he hadn't told anyone about it. He concentrated as he shifted into his second vision, Eagle vision. It worked.

It had to be true, all of it, there was no way he could have figured out how to use Eagle vision without living through Altair's memories first. But that still didn't explain what he was doing back at his apartment as if nothing had happened. He didn't get it, he'd unwittingly shown Vidic where the apples were and had fulfilled his use, why hadn't he been killed?

It just didn't make sense and thinking about it gave him a headache. He sighed and checked himself in the mirror, he was wearing baggy, blue pants , a green t-shirt and a black hoodie on top with a picture of a snarling white dog on and the word "DOWNLOAD" printed in big letters under it's head.

Desmond fought back the urge to growl, those Abstergo bastards were trying to play off his week absence by saying he'd been to a festival in England?! Damn, they were clever, that meant he couldn't tell anyone what had really happened or they'd just think he got high at the festival and imagined it. He felt like crying, the world was about to end and no one was going to believe him. Worst of all, it was his fault that the world was going to end, he knew he should've fought back against his captors. He was an assassin for fuck's sake. Surely he could take on an old man and a girl.

He stopped thinking for a second as he remembered Lucy and how she showed him she was on his side, he missed her. He hoped she'd be alright.

But back to the problem a hand, he was still facing the Templars and things were going to get a hell of a lot worse when they got their hands on a piece of Eden. He cursed, he couldn't just sit there and do nothing?

He turned from the mirror and ran to his room. Something was wrong, it looked too neat. Panic rose in his chest as he stalked over to his wardrobe, opened it wide, and worked at removing the wooden panel at the bottom. Relief was not the word when he found his duffel bag tucked away safely. Thank God they hadn't found it.

He took it over to his bed and went through it, everything was still there and he smiled, this was too good to be true.

He stripped and changed into something more bland, he chose a pair of blue jeans, a light green t-shirt and a white hoodie much like the one he wore at Abstergo. He knew he probably shouldn't wear it lest it remind him of what he went through but truth be told, he kind of liked it, it reminded him of the white assassin robes he'd seen all around Masyaf and only wished he had a red belt for his jeans.

He shrugged and left his outfit as it was, no need to draw any extra attention to himself.

He then took the hidden blade out of his duffel bag, one he'd stolen from the farm he'd grown up on, strapped it on and tested it, slashing at his bed sheets. Satisfied, he zipped up the bag, threw it over his shoulder and left the apartment, not bothering to lock it behind him, he'd left nothing important behind and he didn't plan on ever coming back.

Yeah! A medium length chapter, not bad for a prologue-ish sort of thing, huh?

Anyway, let me know what you think and I will update this in exactly...whenever the fuck I feel like it...sorry.

Vale,

Vitacazzo