Desmond cried out as he was tripped once more by the two brothers who had confronted him outside The Mentors office.
He cried out again as he found himself falling down a flight of stairs, the assassins cruel jeering following him down.
Agony tore over his body as he tumbled and bounced down cold stone, his arm was jostled painfully, causing flaring pain to wrack his body. His vision went white with bright starbursts each time it was jostled.
When he finally hit the bottom his head cracked harshly against the stone, then he was swallowed by the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.
Coming to with a foot harshly nudging his side he saw a different brother sneering down at him. "Lazy filthy traitor. Why the Mentor has not had you properly dealt with I do not know. You are in the way."
Desmond picked himself up painfully slow, cringing when the white robbed assassin shoved past him. "Good for nothing coward. If you held even the slightest bit of loyalty for the creed in you, you would do the honorable thing and put yourself out of our misery." The assassin said, stomping up the stairs Desmond had fallen down.
As the man's fluttering robe disappeared Desmond stood, supporting himself against the wall he took stock of his injuries. As he was counting bruised ribs, the assassins words really sank in and he had an epiphany.
Why had it not occurred to him before?
Obviously his survival had been an accident from the beginning. Surely he didn't deserve some sort of second chance at love, selfish waste of flesh he was. It was obviously some sort of cosmic mess up that landed him here. He only brought trouble wherever he went.
It would be for everyone's best interest really. He had already tried killing himself once , in activating the eye. He failed then, but there was no freakish precursor super machine anymore.
Desmond was sure this time he could manage to be less of a disappointment and actually off himself. Looking to one of the towers that reached for the sky outside the window it all came together.
It would be just like a leap of faith really. The jump, the flight, the fall. Except instead of the welcoming safety of a haystack, he would instead find himself in the welcoming darkness. It was poetic in a way.
His feet seemed to carry him on autopilot, down still more flights of stairs, through twisting halls, out into the courtyard, to the base of the tower. The climb would be difficult, and undoubtedly excruciating with his injuries, but that was fine. He was used to pain. He would be okay.
For once he was finally doing the right thing.
Malik had most definitely been right to expect a screaming match. He didn't know what about any of what Desmond had done justified his treatment.
The young man had obviously had no choice in the matter of giving the Templars what they wanted, and as for abandoning the brotherhood that would require he had been made into a brother.
Either way he had hardly run to the Templars to give them all of the assassins secrets, the poor boy had just tried to generally avoid everything.
From the little Altair and Ezio had been able to tell him it was obvious the boy had never wanted anything to do with the war. That was hardly a crime.
Malik did not know what was influencing such madness in his friends and brothers. It worried him that whatever it was could begin affecting them in other ways to, or that it could begin affecting him as well.