Work Text:
Accessing Memory File (I).
The Farm is something else, of that Clay is sure. It’s the only Assassin hideout that had toys lying around for one, as well as a well-stocked library and a classroom of all things. All the other bases he had visited so far, few as they had been, hadn’t been made to house children. This one, though, seemed to have been created for nothing else. It was strange to be able to discern the purpose of a place so easily when he knew the Assassins to work in the shadows.
Clay sighed and pulled the strap of his backpack up, following his so far mostly silent guide. The girl had introduced herself as Lucy Stillman, his future partner on their mad infiltration mission. Clay had raised a brow, honestly expecting her to be joking but the teenager’s serious expression and the determination in her strut spoke of something different. He knew it would be a few years until he’d actually get to extract information from Abstergo, but he had expected an adult as a partner, not a sixteen-year-old. Then again, with a war as old as theirs, perhaps age was just another irrelevancy as long as you were competent enough.
Fortunately for him, Lucy didn’t seem to notice Clay’s suspicion as she explained the Farm’s different facilities.
“We don’t really get a typical school education. We specialize early in particular skills like survival, hacking but we still get regular math, biology, and English classes. Sometimes also Italian, Arabic, French, and Turkish, to name a few more languages,” Lucy told him as they passed the building containing the hospital and school. “But that depends on the day and Desmond’s mood.”
“Who is Desmond?”
“He’s— he’s one of the teachers here, I suppose,” Lucy answered and came to a stop in front of the biggest building on the property. “This is headquarters. The library, the big meeting room, and the communication center are in here – basically just a few computers. We’re not very close to the outside world here.”
“No joke,” Clay muttered, staring up at the big wooden building. For a moment, he thought someone was sitting on the roof. Incredulous, Clay tried to make out a form, but the figure was already gone. He definitely should have slept on the car ride to the Farm; his imagination was getting away from him.
Irritated, Clay studied the so-called headquarters again. It only had two stories like the hospital/school, but it was broad compared to the rest of the houses. A cute little garden bloomed yellow, white, and violet on the right side, with a couple of other plants thrown into the mix. A man with only one leg and two children walked through it, picking some herbs and flowers. The other side of the building housed a garage with a couple cars and trucks.
“William’s inside. You coming?”
He tore himself away from his observations and followed Lucy inside.
Access Memory File (II).
Adjusting to the everyday life on the Farm was harder than Clay had anticipated. While he didn’t necessarily mourn the shitty apartment he had to leave behind or his father’s complaints, Clay did miss his computer and cheap takeout food.
He’d die for some Thai right now, but unfortunately, the nutrition plan was more focused on a healthy diet with not one wasted vitamin. More than often dinner abandoned taste in favor of proteins. Clay had quickly learned to ration his remaining four snickers bars for the days he really needed them. At least he hadn’t had to worry about antidepressants or ADHD medication, the Farm had plenty Venlafaxine and Adderall, and everybody was all too happy to supply him, in rational dimensions, as long as he kept working, tearing through Abstergo’s files and firewalls.
It wasn’t exactly rewarding work. It took forever to get anywhere and Clay always had to wait for another Assassin to supervise him before he could start working. Never mind that Clay had to explain every damn step he took. He could understand that the Assassins were hesitant to let an outsider join them, but Clay always felt underestimated.
If he was an enemy, everybody’s cover would already have been blown. Clay was good at his job. He wanted some damn credit for it, be it state-of-the-art suspicion or actual trust – but not this half-assed mix.
A glance at the clock ticking above his bed told Clay that it was time for his next shift. He stretched and slowly made his way out of the building functioning as a hospital/home for everybody staying here on their own. It wasn’t exactly crowded, but Clay would prefer to have a bathroom to himself – and not share it with four others.
He hurried to headquarters, dressed a bit too lightly for the morning cold outside. He just didn’t see the point in dressing up for ten feet. It was simply too exhausting for Clay’s caffeine-deprived brain. Another thing he couldn’t get used to – coffee was rationed. He was supposed to work on one cup of coffee a day. A damn impossibility, yet another reason work seemed to go so slowly.
He passed nobody on his way inside the building, like usually the first one to be there. While it didn’t take long for one of his Assassin supervisors to turn up, it annoyed Clay nevertheless that they had to act all dominant alpha male and make him wait, even though his shift had already started. Either way, Clay wasn’t about to get himself into trouble and come in late. He knew his responsibilities.
However, this morning seemed to harbor a special surprise for Clay as the door to the computer room was already open – and smelled like fresh coffee.
He walked into the room with his wonder tugged carefully away and was greeted with the sight of somebody unknown to him already sitting in front of the computers. The adolescent was rather tall and lean, cradling a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Eh— good morning?” Clay said.
The teenager turned around and bright golden eyes knocked all the air out of Clay’s lungs, as the stranger began to smile.
C0RRupTeD m3M0R1E F1LE – aCC3sE D3n1Ed
Restore Memory?
[YES / NO]
“Buon dí, [BLANK]. “Mi chiamo [BLANK]?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sixteen, I can’t— you— [BLANK]”