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As she fiddled with her scrubs, she felt an uneasy feeling coming from the pristine walls of the mother baby unit, the other nurses flashed her a smile that she couldn’t tell if it were genuine or plastered on and fake.
Sure, Dr. Vidic reassured her this would be easy and that the badge was real, but it was hard not to combust with anxiety at the idea of stealing
a baby
!
Breathe, Hannah, breathe. This is for the greater good of humanity.
She stopped her movements, staring at the number on the door and repeating it over and over in her mind as she clenched her hands into fists in a self soothing motion.
Room 203; Ms. Nicole Moore’s room.
This is where she was at, the plan should be somewhat simple from here (unless her own anxiety made her sloppy, which she hoped didn’t happen because she didn’t need to make more of a mess than this already was).
Hannah walked inside, briefly glancing over at Ms. Moore who was thankfully asleep, a luxury for first time mothers from what she read. So, she stepped quietly throughout the room as she made her way towards the cradle that the hospital provided.
She looked down at the baby as the baby kept its eyes closed, thankfully it had been cleaned by the other nurses. So, all Hannah had to do now was keep her plan in motion.
The woman made a motion to softly grab the baby’s ankle, making sure it was kept still as she placed the needle, starting by drawing the infant’s blood like how actual nurses did during standard procedure before injecting whatever medicine that Dr. Vidic gave her. She watched as the baby slowly stopped moving, then the heart monitors went off, warning the other nurses that the baby went into cardiac arrest.
Hannah could hear her heart thrumming in her ears like an old battle drum as she prepared the motions to ‘save’ this baby’s life as other nurses flooded in the room to help while Nicole cried out for someone to save her baby.
Unfortunately, for Nicole at least, the baby seemingly passed away suddenly. Hannah figured that the death would be blamed on a defective heart or SIDs, something of that sort.
She offered to take the body away, a perceived kindness for Nicole since she seemed so grief stricken for her lost child, with Hannah wrapping the little thing in a blanket and exiting the unit and making it look like she was going to the morgue.
However, instead of the morgue, she walked out of an employee entrance that she knew didn’t have working security cameras and went out to a certified Abstergo vehicle where a man named Harry Johnson would be waiting for her.
Soon, all the security cameras would be erased and the body of Nicole Moore’s child would be swapped out with a lookalike dead baby (Hannah remembered seeing the dolls, and they were fucking creepy with how realistic they looked, so it’d definitely fool a grief striken woman with post-pardum depression).
Hannah gently felt the infant’s pulse, it was faint so she kept it in the blanket to make sure it would stay warm as Harry drove to the airport to meet up with other Abstergo employees.
The car ride was silent as the anxiety now faded as the baby seemed to be coming ‘back to life’ within Hannah’s arms, it was an odd feeling that sprouted within her as she watched the baby move.
It was an odd feeling, soon, this baby will belong to Abstergo. This baby would unite humanity within a utopia and end the assassin and templar conflict.
This baby was the beginning of Project Morrigan.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
[Name] woke to the white walls they grew up with and will likely continue to wake up to for the rest of their life, though they already got used to that reality.
Even though there were no windows in the room, they knew it was six in the morning due to the strict routine they were raised with.
6:00 a.m. - Be woken up from a peaceful sleep
6:05 a.m. - Eat, assuming all went well yesterday and they ‘behaved’ in the way the scientist wanted.
6:10 a.m. - Get dressed
6:15 a.m. - Ponder the fact that today might be the day they go insane (though that is not a part of the official schedule, [Name] figured they do it often enough that it should be a part of it).
6:20 a.m. - Scientists put me through hell
the animus.
??:?? - Wake up to rehydrate, and bleed your ancestors
A knock on the door interrupted your thought process, right, food. Apparently [Name] had been pondering their entire day for too long, now they needed to eat until it was time to get dressed.
Food was just the same bland mix of oats, cottage cheese, and fruit with some protein powder that no one took any care to mix in properly, so it grated against your mouth like nails on a chalkboard, though you’ve given up on mixing it properly.
Sometimes, this meal was the best tasting thing they ever had, especially after intense animus sessions.
Speaking of that, they had to mentally prepare for who’s memories they were going to go through this time.
Haytham? No, his memories were already ingrained in you since childhood, and he was your guiding hand into the templar order.
Edward? No, the scientists would always say to ‘wait until they’re older’, and [Name] had no idea why.
Ratonhnhaké:ton, or Connor as the scientists called him (which always left a sort of bitter taste in his mouth). Probably not, they would often say that ‘he didn’t have what they needed’, which was sad since [Name] personally liked going through Connor’s memories. The tragedy of his life was oddly calming, not to mention the freedom of the woods broke up the monotony of the other memories.
Wait, shit, they were sitting there this entire time and the bowl is empty. They had to get dressed and fast.
[Name] slipped out of their pajamas, making sure to adhere to the strict schedule lest they get in trouble for ‘wasting time’ (granted, they never felt like they were ‘on time’ here recently thanks to the fucking animus).
So, all that was left was either Altaïr or Ezio (again).
Ezio was apparently a favorite of the scientist, mainly because the scientist figured his memories would be a good training exercise. However, a part of them wondered if that was the only reason why they liked Ezio.
It was fair for him to be favored, Ezio had a certain charm and an fascinating life.
Another knock at the door, right, time to leave and enter whatever ancient and crumbling life their ancestors lead.
Security guards walked them to the room with the memory scientists, and likely Dr. Vidic, to explore the animus. The extra security was deemed necessary after the time [Name] had a bad bleeding episode and tried to run.
That memory was burned into their brain because it broke the usual routine and they had to be somewhat medicated by ‘authorized personnel’ until they were declared ‘safe’ to return to the normal routine.
The routine that determined it was animus time.
The guards stepped back as the scientist guided them into the cold and painfully sterile white machine. [Name] remembered seeing strange, somewhat faded, glyphs within the room a couple times they were in here, but they never quite got a proper look at them before.
Scientists were heard talking with Dr. Vidic as the machine booted up, locking them inside whoever’s memories.
The blue digital landscape appeared, letting [Name] run around before the animus finally loaded in: Jerulesem, 1191.
While not quite as favored as Colonial America, Jerulesem brought an odd sense of nostalgia to [Name].
It was a bit hazy adjusting to the memory sequences, Altaïr was…well, [Name] couldn’t identify the place yet. Though, thankfully, Altaïr, or at least the bleed of Altaïr, seemed to know as he walked inside a cramped building.
Right, the maktab, Altaïr was getting some mission from…what’s his name?
Who was helping Altaïr? A buzz of different names swarmed their mind from different assassins at different times.
Leonardo? No, wrong time period. Mr. Faulkner? That wasn’t right either. Lee? Shay? Abbas? Claudia?
Malik, it was Malik. [Name] was pretty sure they felt their face get hot, but the animus made everything that wasn’t Altaïr feel so distant from them.
That was one of the things [Name] completely and utterly despised about the animus, it made them feel less than the functional being they were supposed to be.
They knew they were a tool, an instrument for a better future, and the animus made them feel less than that.
“Safety and peace, leader.” Altaïr’s voice cut smoothly through [Name]’s thoughts like a hot knife through butter.
Right, [Name] wasn’t the important one here, it was the assassin.
Malik’s harsh glare could even be felt by them, one odd…well, not necessarily a perk or a downside, just something, was that the animus was good at making the eyes feel realistic. It actually felt like Malik was glaring at them rather than Altaïr, like the maktab leader was aware and ashamed of their presence as well.
Either that, or maybe it was Abstergo, [Name] could never be truly sure.
Anyways, back to the maktab—wait no, it’s supposed to be ‘bureau’.
A part of [Name] wondered if they should even bother fighting against their brain switching to Arabic, the language was in the forefront of their mind and on the tip of their tongue.
Besides, it was probably better to be Altaïr than [Name].
So, that meant they actually had to focus on what Malik was saying, which he was going on about retrieving some sort of item, or was it killing a person.
Fuck, focus.
It was sneaking into some fort, killing some Templar, and stealing their plans and some ruby.
Maybe that last objective was for Altaïr? It seemed personal, but it felt wrong for [Name] to pry.
Speaking of Altaïr, he was turning around to leave, barely hearing Malik mutter something about him changing with the maktab leader hoping it was for the better. A slightly mournful smile reflexively formed on [Name]’s face,
making it clear that was the assassin’s reaction to those words.
Malik was somewhat beginning to forgive Altaïr, it was sweet. Okay, this was actually one of the few times being in the animus was nic—
A headache throbbed front and center in their mind as they were suddenly disconnected from Altaïr, though his mental presence still felt like it was lingering.
What was the point of that? They weren’t ready.
No, no, no.
They needed to do this, they needed to complete this mission
They…were standing in front of…Dr. Vidic? Al Mualim? No, they were still disgraced.
A warm hand broke their thought process, though something felt so wrong about that as the hand helped them steady themselves. The headache was still there, thankfully it was starting to fade, but their mind still ached for the animus.
“Hello, [Name].” The voice that was connected to the hand spoke in a warm voice, it sounded like Malik, something that seemed the part of their mind that belonged to Altaïr at the moment.
But a different part of their mind screamed that something was wrong with this voice.
“I have a special assignment, just for you.” [Name] wracked their mind for the person’s name, but nothing was coming up, only Malik’s name. Altaïr wanted this person to be Malik rather than some Abstergo employee.
The man began speaking in Arabic, [Name] barely processed the sloppy words that showed the man was likely just reading off of a pre-translated script, but it was something about finding someone to bring them back to Abstergo; a bartender who died sometime in the winter of 2012. However, from some reports, it seems like whoever he was wasn’t so dead after all.
It made [Name] oddly excited since it was their first time they’d be without Abstergo’s surveillance, with Altaïr seeming to accept this new mission.
And all they have to do is find some guy named Desmond.
Should be easy…right?