Chapter Text
Shaun rubs his hands together, trying to stop himself from fiddling. He's not nervous, per se, more… anxious. And there's a difference there, despite what Rebecca thinks – nervous implies that something is wrong. Anxious is just anxious.
"Shaun," Rebecca says. "It's almost time."
"I can read a clock, thank you, Rebecca," Shaun says, and grimaces. "Should've made some tea."
"We can have victory tea afterwards," Rebecca says and pats his shoulder. "Or, you know, the other thing. I got a whole new bottle of bourbon and everything, just in case. Should go well with tea."
"You are a barbarian, Rebecca – bourbon, honestly, as if that is in any way suitable…" Shaun starts, but he's not really feeling it. He sighs, running a hand over his neck. "Christ. You think we got it, that we really got it right this time?"
"Pretty sure, yeah," Rebecca agrees and checks her watch. "And that's time."
They look towards the screen and – like clockwork – the screen is overtaken by a call window, flashing incoming call at them. Shaun glances at Rebecca, who arches her brows and nods. Shaun hits accept. There's a moment of tense quiet before the call connects and the black space on the screen is replaced by an image of Bill Miles, from across the continent.
"Shaun, Rebecca," he says, and he sounds… weary. "It's good to see you well."
"You too, Bill," Rebecca agrees, though Bill doesn't look good at all. The man looks drained, his cheeks are hollow and there are shadows under his eyes – and his hair, it looks like, is going white.
"It's good to see you," Shaun agrees. "We, uh. We have something. It's about Desmond."
Bill stills for a moment, and it almost looks like there's a lag and the video stopped streaming. Then the man speaks. "You've finished the investigation," he says, inflectionless.
"I believe we have all the data now, everything we're going to be able to get here, anyway," Shaun says awkwardly. "Our – recruit at the Abstergo Entertainment proved to be pretty handy – we got a lot of useful files through her, and… there were some concerning Desmond."
"It's not pretty, Bill," Rebecca warns beside him.
"No, I didn't think it would be," Bill says through the speakers, not moving. "Start from the beginning, tell me everything."
Shaun nods and opens the first file. "Abstergo got to him pretty soon after we left – the Solar Maximum wasn't even over when they got to the Grand Temple. As far as we know, the Temple itself was completely fried in the process – Abstergo didn't stick around for long and, as you know, they blew up the entrance… but anyway. Abstergo's Sample Recovery Unit 3 recovered the body."
It's been months now, since the superflare and since Desmond died, but hearing the recording from the Sample Recovery Unit's team lead doesn't make for an easy listening. The way they talk about Desmond, like he's just a thing… a pile of DNA to be preserved.
"They're using his DNA samples for their entertainment now, literally – the damn video game they're making, it's based on Haytham's father, Edward Kenway. Turns out, he was a famous pirate during the Golden Age of Piracy," Shaun mutters. "Take that as you will. Abstergo also dissected Desmond's personal belongings, what few he had on him, and hacked his phone – got access to the recordings we've already heard. Not much new there."
"But there is something new," Bill guesses, folding his arms. "Otherwise you wouldn't have made this a priority call."
Shaun glances at Rebecca, who rests her arm on the backrest of her chair, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, there's something," Rebecca says, turning the chair slightly. "We've been keeping up with their Animus development, of course – and this new tech they're using, which can just… read people's DNA samples, never mind if the person they belong to is there or not… it doesn't need that much DNA. Couple of vials of blood is more than enough for them to mine as much data – and a lot more – than they're doing here for the Sample 17 project."
"What Rebecca is trying to say is that they don't need Desmond's whole body for what they're doing here, not by a long shot," Shaun says.
"Hmm," Bill answers. "I assume it's not there, then."
"Not that we could find it. The best we could get was records of the blood samples they used to get the ball rolling," Shaun says. "It seems the technology they use now completely disintegrates the sample used – but again… just blood will do. Saliva is probably good enough, too."
"Which then begged the question, what did they do with the body?" Rebecca says.
"Which is what we set out to find out next – after we were sure we got everything we needed at Abstergo Entertainment, and that… Juno wasn't about to… do anything," Shaun makes a face. "It wasn't easy, but eventually we found this – in the bin, as it was, email draft someone wrote, saved and then failed to delete."
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Concerning: S17We have been running a number of preliminary trials on S17, and I believe Doctor Vidic must have underestimated – or perhaps, underplayed – the serious significance of this genome. S17 DNA isn't just high in the percentile of Precursor DNA – near perfect triple helix, as you know – but it is… something else.
In our initial trials we thought that we might have gotten a faulty sample, that there might have been a breach of containment during delivery – the test results were abnormal to say at least, indicating the presence of… I don't even know how to put it. I thought some sort of bacteria must have gotten into the samples, at first, despite no evidence of it… but subsequent tests with further samples all corroborated to our initial results.
Firstly, DNA splicing proved out to be a failure at every turn. Whatever it is about the triple helix structure that makes S17 DNA so robust, it shatters like a diamond struck at fault line if you try and cut it – even CRISPR tools cannot cut into it safely. Every chromosome we have attempted to unravel and take apart has suffered immediate catastrophic collapse. This might be an installed security feature – as you know, S17 DNA seems to be the result of a long winded eugenics program, and it is likely the Precursors didn't want to risk having their genetic engineering tampered with.
All is not lost, however – for while testing the chromosome integrity against various external influences, we discovered a remarkable ability it has. We ran it through the usual tests, radiation, temperature, pressure, until we came to the bacterial and viral tests. And the results were incredible.
Not only did none of our usual targeted viral and bacterial samples do little to no damage to the samples we subjected them to – but for the lack of a better word… the cells ate the attackers. And when we ran the samples through our scanners, we found the cells subsequently altered. The sample cells had taken the DNA of the viruses and the bacteria, assimilated it into themselves, and the cells became thus completely immune.
We are still running more tests, but I think I can say, with good confidence, that we have found our keystone. S17 chromosomes are still alive and capable of… evolving. If anything, they are capable of cannibalising foreign DNA for their benefit.
I am moving now onto testing the S17 DNA with the Sekhmet samples – because if S17 can assimilate viral and bacterial DNA… perhaps it can assimilate its DNA. Should the test prove positive, I respectfully request larger sample of S17 DNA to use in further experiments.
I look forward to your positive reply.
Dr. Keffler
Shaun waits until Bill finishes reading, and when the Mentor looks up to the camera with a frown, he nods. "Yeah, we weren't sure what it meant first either, there's never been any mention of Sekhmet in any files we've seen. Aside the obvious connection to Egyptian mythology, of course..."
"I ran some tests with the Animus on the samples of Desmond's blood we still have in storage," Rebecca says quietly. "They're still alive, all the cells – and what Keffler found here is about right. Desmond's chromosomes are DNA cannibals – if you poke at them with foreign DNA, they go all Borg at it."
"…Borg… at it?" Bill repeats, dubiously.
"Pop culture sci-fi reference, never mind, Bill," Shaun says. "Desmond's DNA is capable of assimilating foreign DNA. Don't ask us how, we haven't a clue. It has something to do with the ribozymes, the weird ones triple helix people have – and it turns out Desmond's chromosomes are covered with the stuff."
"We just never noticed it before because… we never had any reason to poke at his cells with foreign DNA," Rebecca says, looking away. "I bet if you'd given him a blood transfusion, it wouldn't have even mattered if the blood type matched.
"Right," Bill says, grim. "And then? Did you learn anything more?"
"Not as such – but Keffler was transferred pretty much immediately after," Shaun says and folds his arms. "From Paris to New York – to their stem cell research laboratory. And since then, the said laboratory's budget has been quadrupled, and they've gotten 230% increase in staffing. And also electricity costs. Haven't been able to get in yet – but we did manage to find a shipping manifest for equipment they received not much after Keffler took over."
He sends the manifest over and Bill looks over it quickly. "Nothing seems unusual," he comments. "That looks like fairly standard equipment for an Abstergo laboratory."
"Look at the thirty fourth item on the list," Shaun says.
"… Unit AWS12.2?" Bill asks and frowns. "I'm not familiar with it."
"Neither was I, so I did some digging into it and eventually found it from some of the much older Abstergo projects – this one is from the fifties," Shaun explains. "It's from the time Abstergo got their hand on what they thought at the time was a sample of pure Isu DNA – back around the PRsuperior project. I'm not sure if you remember that one –"
"Vaguely, it was deemed a failure – the DNA sample came from a Sage, didn't it?" Bill says, frowning a little.
"Yes, it did – but one of the technologies they invented at the time were the AWSes. Artificial Womb Systems," Shaun says with a grimace. "Because they thought that they could, eventually… clone a real life Precursor."
Bill squints at him through the camera for a moment. "Artificial –" he stops and leans back on his chair. "How advanced is the technology?"
"As far as we know, it's… semi-functional," Rebecca says. "They didn't really have any reason to develop it – but they did figure out how to replicate the conditions of a human womb in a… basically a big test tube. Everything but the placenta, the AWS can supply."
Bill is darkly quiet for a moment. "You suspect they might be trying their hand at cloning, again?" he asks then.
"Hard to say – but I'd bet on anything that's where they've taken Desmond's body," Shaun says. "All mentions of Subject 17 were scrubbed from their servers shortly afterwards – the only reason they haven't purged Sample 17 from Abstergo Entertainment files is because the shareholders were already informed about it, so they can't do it cleanly."
"And this Sekhmet, any idea what that is?"
"Judging by the usage of the term, and the context it came up in… some sort of a DNA sample," Shaun says.
"One they maybe haven't managed to crack yet," Rebecca says. "But if they can marry Desmond's DNA with this Sekhmet… whatever it is, it might become legible in the Animus. Or… worse."
Worse being the realm of true crazy science of human cloning and genetically engineered babies. Considering their capabilities, it's something of a surprise they hadn't yet. Abstergo is certainly hadn't been shy about following in the footsteps of their Precursor predecessors, where it comes to human resources.
Bill is quiet for a while, digesting the news, staring at nothing. Shaun waits as patiently as he can, even though it feels like his insides are buzzing with urgent energy. It has been months, and Bill has been… withdrawn lately, more so than usual. Before now they didn't have much to give him, but now, maybe…
"Very well," Bill says finally and looks up. "Pack up and head to New York. I'm going to begin coordinating our efforts here and then meet you there."
Shaun and Rebecca exchange glances. "So…" Rebecca says slowly. "We're gonna do something about this?"
"Yes," Bill says grimly and moves to stand up. "We are doing something about this. Call me when you get to New York."
The call cuts off there, leaving Shaun and Rebecca alone in their dingy Vancouver apartment. They're quiet for a moment, just staring at the empty call window, and then they share looks, releasing slow breaths.
"I guess we should get packing," Shaun says then. "Again. Delightful."
"Join the Assassins, see the world, move every couple of months…" Rebecca says and smiles. "Part of the deal. You want some tea now?"
"No bourbon," Shaun says quickly.
"Philistine," Rebecca answers.
"No, that is not – first of all, no, second of all, no. The word you're trying to go for is teetotaller, which I am also not, except when it comes to adding completely unsuitable things to tea – and also the swill you drink isn't even tea, it's… sugar water with flavour added in," Shaun complains. "No bourbon."
"First of all," Rebecca answers from the kitchen, mimicking him, "Iced tea is delicious, you puritan –"
"Stop using words wrong, Rebecca, you're causing me actual pain here -"
"And second of all, bourbon can be celebratory too," Rebecca says and comes back with the offending bottle of iced tea along with the bottle of bourbon and a pair of glasses. "And this calls for a celebration, Shaun. We're getting him back."
"Maybe," Shaun says, grimacing. "If he is there."
"No other place he could be," Rebecca says, and sets the glasses down. "We're getting him back."
"You're counting our chickens a bit early here," Shaun complains. "Things haven't been going very well lately, as far as getting back anything Abstergo took goes -"
"Shaun," Rebecca says and pours for them, handing him a glass of the no doubt terrible too sweet swill. Desmond would be ashamed of them. "We know where he is, and Bill is with us on this. We're getting him back and we're laying him to rest. Now drink – you're shaking."
Shaun breathes out slowly. "We're probably going to die –"
"Just drink, Shaun."
Shaun drinks.
They aren't the only ones who have noticed the decline of the Mentor of the Brotherhood.
While not as beloved as some of their earlier Mentors, Bill has served the Brotherhood well post-purge. Better, really, than most of the Assassins actually realise. Bill had taken the faltering Brotherhood and held it together, recruiting hundreds of new Assassins – Shaun and Rebecca included – to recover their losses and bring them, with a firm hand and relentless pace, to the modern age. Not many like the methods he'd used to get them there, and very few liked him personally, but they all know, they're only there at all because Bill kept them together and then set them apart, sent them out and kept them going.
There's something comforting in having a complete asshole in charge. You might not like it much, but… they get shit done.
Only, Bill hadn't been getting much anything done, in the last few months. After the Flare he had just sort of… deflated. He'd withdrawn, he'd let the Assassin teams use their own judgement, he didn't bark as many orders, didn't demand as many explanations, or reports, or even… status updates. Eventually, Shaun and the other tacticians across the Brotherhood had banded together to sort of shadow manage everything, while Bill just... didn't.
The metal in his spine had rusted over and bent. And they all noticed it – and felt its effects. And those effects, despite how much they'd all moaned about what a hardass he was before… they weren't good.
It probably explains why now that Bill put in an iron-clad order and called in all available assassins, all available assassins actually showed up. There are Assassins from all over the world there – Maenstranzi is there, Jazz, Milton, even Gavin had came off the ship for this one. The hideout they all meet – a repurposed old mall – is packed to the brim with Assassins – most of them are even wearing hoods for the occasion.
"Now would be a terrible time to find a spy in our ranks," Shaun mutters, looking at the crowd milling about in the lower floor of the mezzanine of the mall's central area. "One bomb and we're all out."
"Knock on wood," Rebecca says, looking more amazed by the gathering than worried. "Though we have, what, five, four people with Eagle Sense here? You think we could have a security breach with that?"
"It's happened before," Shaun says and then looks up – along with everyone else – as Bill steps up to a baluster on the second floor of the mezzanine, where everyone can see him.
The murmur – not very loud to begin with, they are Assassins, after all – quiets down before he can even call for attention, and everyone looks up to Bill. He still looks under the weather and his temples have gone completely white – but there's a little bit of that iron there, little bit of steel in his eyes.
"Thank you all of for coming on such short notice," Bill says. "There isn't much time, chances are Abstergo is already aware of our movement, so I will make this brief. Abstergo is back on cloning – they have restarted the old projects here, at their stem cell research laboratory in New York, and now they have access to what might allow them to perfect their research…"
The brief Bill gives is, well… brief and it brooks no arguments. How truthful it is, Shaun isn't sure – they don't precisely know if Abstergo are working on cloning, it could be any number of experiments involving artificial wombs, they could be recreating prehistoric dinosaurs for all they know. It is sort of the most likely scenario though.
It's not why everyone is there, though.
"They are using the DNA… of my son in this project," Bill says to the crowd, who are listening in absolute silence. "I would rather they did not. Now, this mission is not vital, I am only looking for volunteers –"
That's about as far as he gets before every assassin in the room, in one body, takes a step forward – a proper military agreement. It's actually kind of moving, in a truly messed up Assassin way – there's some two hundred complete loners here, most of these people haven't worked with another Assassin probably ever, but…
They all feel it. This is going to be the last mission Bill will send any one of them on.
On the second floor, Bill bows his head slightly and nods. "We have limited time," he says. "Let's get to work. Tacticians, up on the second floor, please."
Shaun nods and moves to follow the order, but Rebecca stops him with a hand at his wrist.
"I'm joining the techies," she says. "Start setting up monitors and such. If you'll go out, you come and get me."
Her voice is final.
"Of course," Shaun says, and grips at her wrist. "You have your headset, I have mine – I'll keep you up to date."
She nods, squeezing his wrist and then releasing. With a last look at her, Shaun turns for the broken down escalator – really, this is the Ritz of hideouts – and then heads up, following the trail of familiar tacticians and historians already heading up.
"This is the stuff you've been working on?" Mark asks, as Shaun brushes by him. "Up in Vancouver? They got Sample 17 thing going up there too, right?"
"Yeah – they're turning one of his ancestors into a video game. It's absolutely delightful," Shaun says bitterly. "How's things in Los Angeles?"
"Same old, same old," Mark says. "Been working on getting a lead on Rikkin's daughter – there are rumblings about her."
"Rumblings?" Shaun asks sarcastically.
"Apparently she's completely nuts and probably about to take over the Animus project," Mark says apologetically.
"Christ."
Then they fall silent, as they come to Bill by the glass baluster, overlooking the crowd of Assassins. Bill turns to them and picks him from the crowd, motioning him to come closer. Great – if he'd known, he would've prepared a PowerPoint.
"Right," Shaun says, as Bill steps back to let him take over the briefing he has done zero preparation for. "Quick and dirty of it is that that our target is one of Abstergos' highest security facilities," he starts. "Rumour has it, it's where they are, among other things, compiling all things Precursor DNA related – it's also where they unearthed the triple helix DNA in the first place. It's quite possibly the very beating heart of their Lineage Acquisition and also the Abstergo department – so… security is going to be heavy. Devices, everyone."
The other tacticians quickly take out their pads, their phones, Shaun taking out his and then sharing his files on the laboratory with everyone. "No public blueprints we can use, and we haven't so far managed to get into internal networks – however, visual examination on the area has found cameras in the locations marked on the map number 8. Security is obviously high, thirty to fifty security guards at least – plus other personnel. All armed and none will be happy to see us."
"I have some drones with me – latest models, almost completely silent," one of the tacticians pipes up. "Erudito's latest. I can do a sweep of the area, maybe even sneak one or two in. They're pretty versatile."
"It's going to have to be during the assault, we can't give them any warning," Shaun says. "We'll set up an interactive map we can fill up as we go in."
"Do we even know where the laboratory we need is?" Mark asks, lifting his hand like a school boy.
"No, we do not," Shaun admits. "We are woefully underprepared and short on intelligence. So we will have to coordinate our teams to get intelligence, as quickly as they can, on the fly. We're likely going to need technicians in the field – volunteering myself here first, of course –"
"If you're coordinating this, then you should stay –"
"Alright, volunteering is a wrong word, I'm going," Shaun amends, firm. "Rebecca Crane from my team is coming with me – but we alone likely won't be enough. We need at least a couple more to maximise efficiency. Technicians with established teams, preferably."
Gratifyingly, there are several hands that go up in air.
"Good," Shaun says, blowing out a breath, and glances back at Bill, who is nodding along grimly. "Let's start coordinating efforts then."
The assault begins that night, and it's, in a word… striking. It has been a long time since this many Assassins were in one place at one time, working on the one thing. Not since the times of yore and war, really, back when they were still more involvement in outcomes of international conflicts. Time before Abstergo, really – having one centralised enemy has made things simpler. It has also eradicated the need of Assassin armies.
This might very well be the first and last of its kind, in the 21st century – a special event. And they're raiding a laboratory. It's almost a shame, to waste such a wealth of numbers on something like that. It feels like they should be raiding a castle, not a basement.
But nothing less would do.
"For Desmond," Rebecca murmurs at his side, and hands him his blade.
"And for Lucy," Shaun agrees, strapping the thing in.
"And Clay, too, the poor bastard," Rebecca sighs, sadly.
"Yeah, our generation of Assassins is quite thoroughly buggered, isn't it?"
Rebecca snorts, and that's about as much pre-game banter they get. Their window of optimal entry is small – work shift change at the building, when the evening shift workers head out while the night shift heads in. Ten minutes of people moving about – ten minutes of potential crowds to hide in… ten minutes of laboratories being hopefully empty.
"Eagle 2," a voice says into Shaun's headset. "Twenty seconds to first mark."
"Copy that, Nest," Shaun answers and then motions to the team he's leading. "Seventeen seconds. Sixteen…"
Elsewhere, the technicians and tacticians back at the hideout short out power. Elsewhere, traffic lights would get mixed up and cause a jam. Elsewhere, communications would be cut. Elsewhere, Assassins are moving into place to dismantle or otherwise disrupt cameras. Pieces on a chess board, moving into positions.
"Three," Shaun counts, "Two. And move."
There are sirens wailing somewhere in the city as they move – not as a group, but as clusters of individuals. With hastily made ID cards on lanyards and suitably normal clothes, they're nothing but normal workers hurrying in. They aren't the first team in, either – Eagle 1 is already in, and hopefully messing about enough to disrupt the security at the front.
And they are – Shaun sees them in the corner of his eye, a team of Assassins pretending to be drunken tourists lost, are arguing loudly with the security about this being totally their hotel, can't they see, didn't they read the sign. There's photos being taken, which is flustering the guards further, and one of the supposed tourists has a video camera which he's shoving into everyone's faces. It's all very confusing.
"And it's down," Rebecca says, putting away a little gadget as they come to metal detectors – which, just then, malfunction.
"Damn power outs, it's been happening all evening," Shaun says to the man by the metal detectors. "Couldn't even charge my phone – you wouldn't happen to have a line up to level four? My supervisor is going to kill me if I'm late and my phone just died."
"Yeah, yeah – ID please," the man says distractedly, and then lifts a hand to his neck, as something – a tiny little dart, barely visible – hits his carotid artery with perfect accuracy.
The man slumps over, and Shaun and his team move ahead – Eagle 3 would be right behind them, to secure their entry and cover their tracks.
"I got into the system, filling in the map now," Mark says over the coms. "Sublevel 4, laboratory 7 – that's the one assigned to Keffler, and judging by the layout – wait, I just got cameras, Eagle 4 must've gotten – holy fuck."
"What is it?" Shaun asks, quietly, not moving his lips, while he and the others shuffle along towards the elevators.
"Quick, loop it, feed it back in," Mark says to someone back at the hideout. "Whatever that thing is, I glad I'm not the one who has to deal with it. But, uh, just out of curiosity, in your brush-ins with the Precursor stuff… did aliens come up? Because – the actual movie Alien comes to mind. Christ."
Shaun shares looks with Rebecca and then they move in faster. "Sublevel 4," he says as his team shuffles into the elevator, and down they go. Shaun holds a hand to his com, and the moment the elevator stops, he says, "Fourth mark."
Somewhere above ground, a car would soon be driving through the building front doors. Never let it be said that when Assassins do diversions, they half ass it.
"The cameras are looped," Mark informs him. "One guard stationed on a booth to the left of the elevators, another is doing rounds up ahead – there's one man in the laboratory, it's not Keffler."
Shaun motions the Assassins at his back to take care of the security booth, while Rebecca whips out her phone, checking the feed they're getting from other Assassins. Shaun does the same, checking the action at the front and then moving ahead.
"Stop," Mark says, waits and then, "Go now – the security guard is behind the corner. You have fifteen seconds, tops. And someone needs to take down the lab assistant."
"I got it," Shaun says, checking his bracer. It's been a while since he'd used it in action, but… he's kept in practice.
They slip to the door number four, Rebecca hacks the lock, and opens the door just enough to Shaun to hold his hand in and aim. The dart flies without sound, and meets his mark at the lab assistant's neck – the man falls, and as he does, Shaun sees what was behind him.
Holy shit is about right.
"You have limited time, Eagle 2," Mark reminds him at his ear, before they can even begin gawking. "Computers, files, folders, samples. Go."
"Go, go," Shaun says too, and together he and Rebecca move towards the computers while the others spread around to check loose files and the… many sample jars around. And – holy shit. There'd been a time during the whole hunt for the Apple of Eden that Shaun had felt a bit like he'd stumbled onto a science fiction set, but this – yeah, Alien is about right.
But there is no time to think about it – they got a mission, and on a limited timeframe too.
Between him and Rebecca, they crack open the computers pretty quick. Shaun glances at the programs, glimpses few folder names – Sample 17, PET scans, Conversion Reports, EEGs, Biometrics, and with a sinking feeling he moves to download all of it, while beside him Rebecca plants transmitters and receivers.
Then, together, they turn to look at… it. And bloody hell, it's a sight to behold.
God, Shaun hopes Bill is not seeing this.
"The fuck is that?" one of the other Assassins murmurs.
"It looks like they've… like they're… growing something in –" Rebecca says but can't quite continue, just staring up at… at it. Him. No, it is about right. And it might have been a person, once, but… there's not much of a person left in it.
Shaun swallows, feeling a little sick and glances around them. There are the AWS, and judging by the looks of it, they'd been discarded – whatever Keffler had tried to do with them, they'd failed. There's a whole row of obviously failed experiments to the side, little tubes like something out of the fucking matrix – only there's no babies, thank god. The shredded remains of whatever was in them cannot be by any definition of meaning be called… anything living.
If Shaun had to guess, he'd say that Keffler had tried to grow something from scratch by using Desmond's DNA and whatever Sekhmet was, and when it had failed… the mad bastard had turned to Desmond. To using Desmond's body… as an incubator.
Shaun is going to be sick.
Later. There's no time now.
"Whatever it is," he says and looks at Rebecca. "We're taking it with us." Right?
She draws a shaky breath and then nods, and with that decided, they get back to work. They have a whole lab to empty, some sort of support system to rig up for… it, and then they have to get out of the lab before Abstergo realised they were under attack. And then…
Then they'd take Desmond back – in pieces, if they had to.