Assassin's Creed High-School

Lies Lead to Snooping

The next chapter is finally out, huzzah~! I hope you all enjoy this one, and I apologise for it taking so long!
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The clattering of dishes.

Nothing unusual about that, right?

But what about clattering dishes at three A.M when the entire household was supposedly tucked away in their beds and sleeping peacefully?

Different story, right?

Thought so.

That is exactly why you have flung yourself from the bed and army crawled across the floor towards the bedroom door, a can of deodorant in your possession. Realistically you knew that in the event of a home invasion, a cosmetic meant for preventing body odour would be an inadequate choice of weapon, but beggars can't be choosers, especially in a life or death situation.

What the hell is making that annoying thumping noise?

Oh...it was your heart. That's embarrassing. Hopefully it’s loud to only your ears, and not to the ears of the intruder. Speaking of which...

Peering over the banister to the ground floor, you see the kitchen light flick on, a masculine shadow breezing past the archway. An involuntary shudder wracks your body. The wiser decision would be to immediately fetch Desmond and Lucy, but for some unknown reason you remain where you are. Curiosity always managed to get the better of you – an unfortunate trait to possess, your parents would comment. But you didn't think so...well, not every time, that is. At times it was the bane of your existence but at other times it was your greatest strength.

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

You startle faintly.

That was Desmond’s voice.

And he sounds totally pissed.

“Keep your voice down. I don't want (Y/N) waking up.”

Lucy too?

Okay...so, good news – there is no intruder and no risk of being horribly slaughtered in your bed. But now this scenario conjures more questions. What were Lucy and Desmond doing up at this time in the morning? What were they arguing about? And more importantly, what did they not want you to hear?

With as much finesse you could muster, you creep along the landing, wanting to get closer in order to  eavesdrop. You stop and perch a little more than halfway down the staircase, attention fixed on Desmond's shadow flittering back and forth across the floorboards – he was an agitated pacer, that's what made it easy to recognize that there was a serious problem.

A cupboard is shut with unnecessary force. “No, of course not. If that happened, it'd mean coming up with some other pathetic lie on why you're arriving home in such a state.”

State? What? Does he mean...drunk? You never would have pegged Lucy for a drinker, but that's the only logical explanation for why Desmond didn't want you seeing her.

“I don't want to lie, Desmond. I have to, you know that.”

“She's not stupid, you know. She's going to get suspicious and start snooping around if you're not careful.”

She? Wait, was he talking about you? Suspicious of what? Now you were curious. What was Lucy hiding?

A chair groans in protest under someone's weight.

“I am careful. But if Vidic says-”

“Vidic could give a rat's ass what happens to you as long as he gets the information he wants!”

In the ensuing silence, it occurs to you that you don't truly understand what Lucy actually does for a living. The company she works for is Abstergo, but that's the extent of your knowledge. And now that you think about it, you knew a surprisingly little amount about Lucy; she never spoke of work or colleagues, never told humorous anecdotes about any friends...even her hobbies remained a mystery.

“You know what? I'm sick and tired of constantly having to defend myself, Desmond. You may not realise it, but my work is highly important and it's going to benefit a lot of people in the future. We are so close to locating the P.O.E.”

“And what about the poor saps who went crazy after helping you obtain this ‘beneficial’ information? Do you even give a shit that most of them died? For Christ's sake, Lucy, one of them was pregnant!”

“Enough!”

Glass shattering has you nearly sliding down the stairs in fright and you grip the banister before your ass has a chance to hit the next step. It was probably time to get back to bed before one of them comes charging from the kitchen and catches you snooping.

You practically fly back to your room - no longer caring about being quiet – and dive back into the secure embrace of the covers. For a while you simply lay there, cocooned and wide-eyed, listening for any approaching footsteps or bitter voices. But the house has gone dead once more, leaving you to obsess over the conversation that had just taken place. What the hell was that all about?! Beneficial information...P.O.E...people dying...

It all sounds impeccably crazy.

Part of you wanted to go down now and confront the pair of them. Get the answers you deserve and put an end to their secrets. But the other part of you – the one that didn't want to risk death – argued against such stupidity and kept you rooted to the mattress.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Before tonight, never once would you have done anything but put your full trust into Lucy; she was a kind, trustworthy, and considerate woman whose blood runs through your veins. But now...well, you don't know what to think. Lucy is now some stranger with all sorts of secrets – and you don't mean weird fetishes or guilty pleasure type secrets. Dangerous secrets. Secrets that apparently involve death.

It would be easier and better for everyone involved were this night to be completely forgotten about and never questioned. But your own mind would never allow that. It will obsess over this information every minute of every day, driving you to the point of madness until it is given what it desires.

So that's what you'll do.

You'll feed its insatiable hunger.

But it'll have to wait until morning when Lucy and Desmond have both left the house. It means you'll have to miss school, but this is far more important.

>>Fast Forward>>

Nearly everything had gone according to plan; Lucy had gone to work before you even woke, Desmond was preparing to leave, which meant the house was going to be empty and allowing plenty of time to snoop. However, there was one unforseen complication which had now made matters slightly more difficult.

That complication was called Shay Cormac.

Had you known the guy lived directly across the street, you would have decided on a more carefully selected hiding place rather than behind the tree in front of his window; it was such a rookie mistake – one you won't repeat in the future. Now not to be misconstrued, you did greatly enjoy Shay's company, but...you weren't entirely sure what it was you were going to find, let alone what you were actually searching for. What if there was something horrible to be found? Something so life-shattering that it will change the way you perceive Lucy forever? You shudder at the thought.

“For years you've had me believing that I was the bad influence. But that's not true at all.”

You hadn't even noticed that Shay had been whispering in your ear this entire time. You tear your attention away from the house long enough to cast a confused glare in his direction. “What are you babbling about?”

A finger connects with your ribs. “You. You're always dragging me into your crazy schemes.”

“I beg your friggin' pardon?” Was this boy on crack? “If anyone's the ringleader around here, it's you. I'd never get in trouble if it weren't for you and your Irish shenanigans.”

He continues as though you haven't spoken at all. “I used to be a good boy, and everyone in the neighbourhood would praise me for it. ‘Such an angel', they'd all say. But then you came along and poisoned me with your Siren song. Completely robbing me of my innocence.”

You can't help but snort. “Innocence? You do realise who you're talking to, don't you? I was there, and as I recall, grownups couldn't stand you. What was it that they used to call you? ‘Little Feral’? ‘The Barefooted Terror’? Those don't sound very innocent to me.”

“Those were mere terms of endearment, girly; they may sound harsh, but the love was there. It's like when you call me doofus. I know you don't truly believe that.”

Your lips purse. “Yeah...I wouldn't sound so confident about that if I were you. Now do you mind? We're supposed to be keeping an eye out for when Desmond leaves.”

“About that...he's already gone.”

A pause. “What?”

Shay nods in the direction of the house. “He left a minute ago. Look, his car's gone.”

For fudge sake. This boy could be so infuriating at times. “I'll be back in a minute.” For some reason, you find yourself whispering, as though Desmond or Lucy may somehow hear you were you to speak any louder.

“I thought I was coming with you.”

“This is something I'd prefer to do without you.”

“What? Why? What's wrong with me all of a sudden?”

“Nothing's wrong with you, I just—” You abruptly stop, exasperated, unable to resist those goddamn puppy dog eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Come along if you want to.”

“I don't want to. I just wanted you to want me to.”

There's a lull in the conversation whilst you fight to prevent a sudden surge of irritation from bubbling over. Why can't everyone simply say whatever it is they truly mean rather than fumble through with this whole rigmarole? You sometimes wonder whether or not Shay did this purposely just to irk you, but...you doubt he's capable of even considering being vindictive. Put quite simply – and yes, it sounds cliché – Shay was a good guy.  He had his flaws, like everyone else, an he could lose his temper under the proper circumstances, but you've never known him to deliberately set out and cause someone harm simply because he could or that he sought retribution. And he was quite chivalrous when in the presence of women; he does his best not to use expletives when in your presence - even though you don't hesitate to let a few slip -, and he is typically rather considerate - he's the only one to date whom has ever opened the door for you.

Having taken a calming breath, you provide a different response. “Shay, I would really like it if you were to join me on this secret mission.”

He considers his answer for a moment before smiling. “Well...I suppose I can do that. But only because you were so nice about it.”

Alright. No more stalling. Time to find out what nasty secrets were being kept from you.

Shay squeezes himself through the door ahead of you before it was even fully opened. Apparently he planned to ‘scope the place out’. There wasn't any need for it since Lucy and Desmond were the only other people to reside here, but you don’t have the heart to argue with him. From the day you met, he's always done everything he could to prove that he was a man – from offering to carry heavy boxes to unhesitatingly jumping to the defence of any woman he thinks may be caught in a harmful situation. It seems to make him happy, so you never object to his help.

But as you wait by the entrance, it suddenly dawns on you. Rooni! The colour drains from your face as a gruesome image of Shay being mauled to death sears itself onto your brain. “Shay, hold up!” You screech, practically flying down the hallway and into the living room.

But such panic was all for naught.

Shay was perfectly fine. And Rooni...was in the exact same position as he was when you left the house this morning – sprawled across the couch as though he were royalty. You deflate. So much for a guard dog.

Shay glances in your direction, oblivious to your earlier panic. “What's the matter?”

“Other than the fact that Rooni has proven himself useless in the face of a home invasion?” You shoot an accusatory glare Rooni's way. He stares back, unfazed.

Giving underneath the couch a quick scan, Shay straightens up and places both hands on his hips, beaming with unbridled pride. “The place is secure, my lady.”

You offer a playful curtsy. “Why thank you, good sir. Now that the place is clear, let's get to snooping.”

It shouldn't excite you this much – especially when there's every chance of finding something devastating – but as you and Shay begin roaming the house in search of secrets, you can't deny the thrill coursing through your veins.

You're not crazy – at least, that's what you tell yourself. It's just...there's something so incredibly exhilarating about doing things you're not supposed to do. But that's human nature, isn't it? As a species, we're naturally drawn to anything considered forbidden or taboo. And scrounging through a person's personal belongings without permission is definitely considered to be one of societies biggest taboos.

“Find anything interesting yet?”

Shay hurls the box he was holding back into the closet, slams the door shut, and whirls to your curious form all in one fluid movement. “I saw nothing!”

Um, okay. Weird.

You convey your incredulity by raising both brows and crossing your arms. “Really? You didn't find anything?” Your eyes narrow curiously. “Why's your voice so high then?”

Shay has never been a good liar; the excuses he makes would be convincible if his face and voice didn't always betray him – either the guilt drains every ounce of colour from his face, or his voice suddenly sounds as though someone had pumped the poor bastard full of helium.

“No reason.” He squeaks out then clears his throat and tries again. “It's nothing you need to know, girly.”

“Saying that only makes me wanna know more.”

He slams his back against the door when you attempt move around him. “No! Trust me when I tell you, (Y/N), you don't want to see what's in there.” His fingers bite into your shoulders and his forehead lightly connects with yours. “I saw things...disturbing things....things no child should ever have to witness their guardians doing.”

You stare at him as though another head has suddenly sprouted from his shoulder. Disturbing things no child should see their-? Oh. That could only revolve around one subject.

Ugh, gross!

Horror and disgust gradually contorts your features after you fail to keep from visualizing what is currently hidden within that little black box.

Shay immediately pulls you into a comforting embrace. “Pleasant thoughts, (Y/N), pleasant thoughts; puppies, and pastries, and...pillows with frills, if that's what floats your boat.”

“I don't think even pastries will help, Shay.” You look at his face after being ushered from the room. “Images are already formulating. I don't think I'll ever recover.”

“You won't recover? Count your blessings that you didn't actually see what was inside the box.” He glances at a hanging photograph of Lucy and Desmond, a slight crinkle in his nose. “I'll never be able to look at Desmond the same, that's for sure.”

Ugh. That one sentence has made things infinitely worse. What the hell kind of kinky shit do those two get up to behind closed doors? No! No, let's not open that possibility box.

“You know, you never actually told me what it is we're searching for.”

You answer him honestly. “That's ‘cause I got no idea what to search for.” You sink into the armchair with a sigh, shaking your head despondently. Maybe there wasn't actually anything to find? Maybe...maybe last night was all a dream? Or perhaps you misinterpreted the information you overheard? If that were the case, it would be both relieving and disappointing. “I thought there’d be something here worthwhile, but...I'm thinking now it was probably all in my-”

The end of your sentence is cut off by a mechanical grinding coming from the bookcase – well, actually it was more of a DVD case/shelf thanks to Desmond, but that's not the point. Your eyes are close to bursting from their sockets when the bookcase tremors and groans as it slides to one side, revealing a shadowed set of stairs leading downwards.

Shay stumbles backwards, tripping over a crease in the rug and landing hard on his ass – though he seemed more focused on the bookcase rather than the fall, which was understandable. “Holy...this is some Agatha Christie shi--stuff right here.”

He could say that again! Seriously, hidden rooms behind moving bookcases?! That shit doesn't happen in real life! Or it's not supposed to!

You raise yourself from the armchair and help him to his feet, your attention permanently fixed on the secret entrance. “How did you do that?”

He offers a slow shake of his head, just as dumbfounded as you are. “All I did was try pull out a DVD and the bloody thing began moving.”

“Which DVD did you pull?”

“Um,” He reaches out and grips a box you've never even given a second glance, “this one. The Creation of Man.”

Your brows knit together. “I've seen this damn movie a dozen times already, but I've never really given it much notice.” You scan the other titles among the shelves. It was only now that you were paying attention did you realise that this individual DVD was the one that stood out amongst the rest. Everything else on the shelves was a mixture of action, horror, and a few chick flicks - Lucy's choice, obviously -, so for there to be a religious film amongst them should have been a clear enough sign that something was off.

“What do you think's down there?” You find yourself whispering once again whilst reaching out to hug Shay's arm.

A slight raise of his shoulders is offered in response. “Don't know for sure. But, if I were to take a guess, I'd say...a sex dungeon.”

Your head snaps towards him so fast it was a miracle your neck didn't break. “A sex dungeon?! Man, why’d you have to go and say that? Don't you know what this is gonna do to my mental state?”

“Sorry, but after what I found upstairs, a sex dungeon is very likely.” His lips twitch faintly. “Perhaps you'd prefer we call it something else? Like a, uh...a ‘fun’ dungeon? A fungeon!”

If he weren't your best friend, you'd deck him right in the schnoz. “Riiiiiight, because calling it that will help take the nightmares away.”

He gasped audibly. “What? Was that...sarcasm? From (Y/N)? Say it isn't so!”

“Oh, shush up, you.” You give him a playful shove but he doesn't budge an inch – and judging by the smirk on his face, he takes immense enjoyment in the fact that you can no longer move him.

It was easy to forget that neither of you were children anymore. Especially Shay.

It seemed like only yesterday he was as delicate as a piece of glass – not in temperament, but in appearance. One wrong move and you feared his limbs would snap. Though such fear was all for naught, for whenever he would come falling from a dangerously high branch, he'd simply sweep aside the mop of chestnut coloured hair that dominated a narrow and dirty face and hurry along to the next life-endangering act. Heh. That boy...it was near impossible to ever catch him standing still. He made everyone believe that he always had somewhere important to be.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Shay flicks your forehead, dark eyes glimmering with mischief. “You're not falling in love with me, are you?”

You rub the spot he's flicked to soothe the mild sting and offer a snort in response. “Don't flatter yourself, doofus. You'd be the last person I'd fall for.”

“Always so in denial.” He clicks his tongue, head shaking slowly. “You'll see. One of these days you won't be able to resist my masculine charms and you'll be swooning. And like a true gentleman, I'll be there, ready and waiting to catch you, and together we'll ride off into the sunset to begin our new life together.”

“Sadly enough, I think somewhere deep down in that pretty little head of yours, you actually believe that.” You gave his chest a playful pat. “Perhaps it's time to give those Westerns a break, hm?”

To your surprise, his eyes narrow. Was it something you said?

“That's a hell of a thing for you to say to me.”

Oh, wait. Now it all makes sense.

“You're quoting a Western right now, aren't you?”

“Uh, not just any Western – Tombstone. One of the greatest Western's ever made that doesn't star Clint Eastwood!”

Your eyes roll to the ceiling. “It's nice to know you haven't changed.”

“Why would I change? I'm awesome.”

“And arrogant.”

“We all have our flaws.”

This sort of banter could continue on for hours if given the opportunity, and the pair of you had already gotten way off track – not that you minded. Realistically you were deliberately stalling to avoid going down into this ‘fungeon' and discovering something awful.

But it was now or never.

You needed to know what was hidden down there.

Shay takes possession of your hand as though sensing your internal conflict and gives it a comforting squeeze; he knew nothing needed to be said. That this was enough. And it was. Knowing someone was simply there by your side, even in silence, was more than enough. You return the gesture – though you're certain he felt the slight tremble of your hand – and together descend the staircase.