Shaun Hastings Blog

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Hm.

So what’s to keep me from becoming like him Shaun? You said it yourself, the me right now is nothing more than some glorified program. The only thing keeping me from becoming like Clay is the fact I still have a pulse.

Not exactly the most comforting thing in the world to hear.

…I’ve never been to the ocean and I want you to be there when I do.

The difference is we can actually help you. You’re safe here with us, and all you have to do is work your way back out. Clay- ..well, Clay’s got no chance.

I can hardly say it’s the sweetest way to place it, but it’s the truth, Desmond.

…I guess I’ll have to then, won’t I? Otherwise you’ll get all mopey.

I guess there’s nothing left except for me to try harder then. Probably a lot. Clay mentioned something about only having a certain amount of time before everything vanished. Or something like that. It’s all still really fuzzy.

The truth is at least something right? Ha, sometimes the truth sets you free…wish that was the case.

…alright it’s a date then. I’ll even try to remember the sunblock so you don’t burn to a crisp.

A date. Right.

I'll bring an umbrella.

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Not the first time? I…I can’t remember any of it though.

But what if it is? Either way, all I know is that he’s been helping me with this whole thing and he’s real to me. Clay isn’t just some program, there’s got to be some reason why he’s here and why he’s doing what he’s doing…

…you’ll come with me right? To the ocean?

No, You’ve done it a few times before, but never quite that far.

He’s real to you, sure, fine. You realize that the real you is lying motionless in the back of this truck here, today. Whereas the you I’m speaking with is a glorified program.

It’s rather the same thing with Clay. Save for the fact.. well, He’s dead.

…you realize you are asking an Englishman with red hair and freckles to go somewhere with sun?

Hm.

Not exactly the most comforting thing in the world to hear.

…I’ve never been to the ocean and I want you to be there when I do.

The difference is we can actually help you. You're safe here with us, and all you have to do is work your way back out. Clay- ..well, Clay's got no chance.

I can hardly say it's the sweetest way to place it, but it's the truth, Desmond.

...I guess I'll have to then, won't I? Otherwise you'll get all mopey.

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Not the first time? I…I can’t remember any of it though.

…you’ll come with me right? To the ocean?

No, You've done it a few times before, but never quite that far.

He's real to you, sure, fine. You realize that the real you is lying motionless in the back of this truck here, today. Whereas the you I'm speaking with is a glorified program.

It's rather the same thing with Clay. Save for the fact.. well, He's dead.

...you realize you are asking an Englishman with red hair and freckles to go somewhere with sun?

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

If you can call it glitching. Both of you were wavering in here.. You were spewing some sort of half-cocked prattle at me that was so cryptic I’m certain a sphinx would be impressed.

That program isn’t Clay. But I’m certain it’s not exactly malevolent. I believe it’s doing good for you in here.

You do need to wake up… Really. It’s so like you to be lazing about while the rest of us work our arses off trying to bring you back. Selfish prat.

Me? Spewing out cryptic things? Jeez…that has me kind of worried…

But what if it is? I mean…think about it, Rebecca mentioned something about how the Animus could repair the damage done. What if it could take an entire consciousness as well with too much exposure?

Ha! Well I guess I just needed a vacation or something then eh? Yknow…when I get out we should go for a vacation…go see the ocean or something for real rather than some simulation.

Has you worried? Hah! It wasn't exactly the first time, mate. You're rather polar when it comes to actually being yourself.

It's not Clay. Clay is dead. Subject 16 is dead. Whatever fragmented remnants are left over in that bloody machine, it isn't him. Just like.. well.. Nevermind.

When you get out I'll take you where ever the bloody fuck you want.

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Nor have I. I ah.. Hope he’s alright…

Be careful, alright? What happened anyway?

…that’s new. You actually care about him now? Just how long was I out for…?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Careful is my middle name or something like that. I…don’t really remember. I just know I heard Altair and then I was here waking up alone.

I- Excuse me? I’m incredibly compassionate. I care about everyone.

Hm. Has that happened before? I just checked in here and both of you were glitching to high hell.

Uh huh…who are you and what have you done with Shaun? I mean honestly last I remember you were going off about how Clay wasn’t even human and here you are being compassionate or whatever for him too?

I don’t know. I just got this headache, then Altair was speaking and telling me I had to wake up and return before it was too late. Then, I’m here. But…we were glitching?

If you can call it glitching. Both of you were wavering in here.. You were spewing some sort of half-cocked prattle at me that was so cryptic I'm certain a sphinx would be impressed.

That program isn't Clay. But I'm certain it's not exactly malevolent. I believe it's doing good for you in here.

You do need to wake up... Really. It's so like you to be lazing about while the rest of us work our arses off trying to bring you back. Selfish prat.

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Nor have I. I ah.. Hope he’s alright…

Be careful, alright? What happened anyway?

…that’s new. You actually care about him now? Just how long was I out for…?

Yeah, yeah, I know. Careful is my middle name or something like that. I…don’t really remember. I just know I heard Altair and then I was here waking up alone.

I- Excuse me? I'm incredibly compassionate. I care about everyone.

Hm. Has that happened before? I just checked in here and both of you were glitching to high hell.

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Now I’m worried I missed something…or…did something.

…..

…….

Shaun…are…are you there?

I’m here. God, you two’ve been gone for ages.

Gabbing about me I’m sure. Are you alright?

I thought you’d left.

Ha, you know it. Yeah, I think I’m a bit better now after whatever happened. Haven’t heard from Clay though…

Nor have I. I ah.. Hope he's alright...

Be careful, alright? What happened anyway?

...ngh...jesus it feels like someone cleaved my head in.

Now I’m worried I missed something…or…did something.

…..

…….

Shaun…are…are you there?

I'm here. God, you two've been gone for ages.

Gabbing about me I'm sure. Are you alright?

#digitalfragmentation #ghostlyassassin

**User SHAUN has logged in to the Animus

Christ.. connection is finally back up and running.

Desmond..? Clay?

Tell me you two are still here..

**User SHAUN has logged out of the Animus

Shaun jerked up from his seat in the Animus, the sudden connection break making his brain swirl in his skull, and his stomach ride up into his throat.

After a short moment becoming better acquainted with the trashcan nearby, his hands trembling from the strain, he tangles his fingers into his hair then pull them out more roughly than necessary. After a shaking breath he slides up from his chair, disconnecting the few monitor pieces and absently places his left palm on his chest and strokes his sternum.

His lips tugged deeper into the scowl, causing lines to spill across his face as he slinks out of the present hideout. Rebecca and Bill had gone to bed ages ago.. Only reason he'd been able to sneak in, really..

And the fresh air broke new thoughts into his head, ones that the humidity and warm, stale air had been clogging. He couldn't stop the panic that struck him, and the next moment he's aware of, he's slouched against the wall outside, head in his hands, with hot, frustrated tears dampening his sleeves.

**User SHAUN has logged in to the Animus

Give in?

Give in to what?

C͢l̢ay̧.

̧Cl̢a͡y̴ k͘n͏o͡ws.͡ Tr͟a͜c͜ed life̴ ̨w̶i̡th s̢il͢veŕ ͢c̀old͝. Pain͠t͟ ̕t͝he͠ ̀waļl̸s r̸ed̛ wįth ͡T͜rut̵h͟.

T͠he̢ V͘oi̷c͟e͡s ̸wh͟isper,͜ ̵beg̸ ͢t̵he̕ T͘r̛u̢th̛ b͝e͡ se҉e̵n͏ and͜ ̵h͟eard.͟ ̢It ̵m̕us̷t ̡b̸e se̸t̕ fr͝e҉e. No̢t s̀tr͘on͢g enou͏gh.͏.͘.T̨hȩy̕ ̕s̶c̕re̕am.͜ N͘oise i̵n͞ so͘la͟ce҉. Dar̡kne͟s̡s͘ s̕w̴all̨o͜ws and͞ Tr̴ùth is l͞os͞t.

The truth, I know, the file.. I have it. It'll help you? I've poured over it already.. I didn't find what you're talking about..

**User SHAUN has logged in to the Animus

…Christ, that’s not — Desmond, breathe.

D͢e̡̡͝s҉m̶̧̡̕͜o̕͠n̡͝d̸̴̸̛́?̸̢̛̀͜

W͞҉͢H̸̡́͡O̧̕͟͜ ͜͏̵̢I̶̧҉Ş҉ ̧͟D͡E̶̛͟Ş̀͘͢M̶̷͠Ǫ̶́͢N̴̡D̸͞͏̶͟?̸̢

You are! You are Desmond. The bloody stupid tosser that won’t give up even though it’s killing him and smiles all the while you lousy git.

You can’t lose — You can’t lose that. You can’t lose Desmond.

..͢.̸figh҉t̵ ͡a ̢b́att̴lę ̴h͟a̴l̸f̧-lost́. Ǫnl̢y ̨w̛innįng͞ ̧i͠s ͟to g͠iv̵e҉ ҉in. ̵C͝ri̛ms̡oǹ ͝on ̴s͏ilveŗ, coļd͜ s͠pe͟a̷r̷s͢ ͠fle͢s̴h. ͢H̀a ͠h̀a haha͘ha..̵.

Give in?

Give in to what?

digitalfragmentation

н͡a̡ѕтιngѕ͘.

Bill. I’ll .. He’s not here. Shit.

Let me.. God, He’ll be back soon..

digitalfragmentation

ғυcĸ.

No τïṃε, not for “̧͘͟s͏͠oǫ̢n͢”̸ or anything close.

We have to ѕανє >//him.

Even if the pri¢e is ɥƃıɥ.

ĤĔ ͏iis ̷ev͘e͡ryt͞h̢i͢ņg.

Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

What’s the price?

digitalfragmentation

It’s a ρяι¢є that you can’t ραÿ.

After this, there ʇɥƃıɯ not be much left of —

Want to sαч:

I͟’̀m̨̡ ͝s̴̀͟o͟͢͠r̵̕͠ry.̡

For.;.-.,—==-..just ģïṿε it some τhøυģhτ. No tเ๓є.

God damn it you bloody stupid fuck!

Of course you have to go and leave me with bloody stupid code.

you can't hang around a sodding second longer..

d..o..n..t... l..ea..ve.. him.. alone.

....

#digitalfragmentation

**User SHAUN has logged in to the Animus

…Christ, that’s not — Desmond, breathe.

D͢e̡̡͝s҉m̶̧̡̕͜o̕͠n̡͝d̸̴̸̛́?̸̢̛̀͜

W͞҉͢H̸̡́͡O̧̕͟͜ ͜͏̵̢I̶̧҉Ş҉ ̧͟D͡E̶̛͟Ş̀͘͢M̶̷͠Ǫ̶́͢N̴̡D̸͞͏̶͟?̸̢

You are! You are Desmond. The bloody stupid tosser that won't give up even though it's killing him and smiles all the while you lousy git.

You can't lose -- You can't lose that. You can't lose Desmond.

**User SHAUN has logged in to the Animus

You know me, Desmond. You know me. Breathe. Come back here…

What? What can I do? Tell me what to do, Des, I feel so helpless.

Ḑo͠n͏’̡t…͏don’t̶ ́l҉et͞ ͢the ̶d̷ark̷n̕e̸s̵s̨ i͡n.̶ ́Suff́o̷cate̸s. N͏o ĺi͟g͏ht..͘.ca͟n’̷t.̵..̵c̀an͝’t leav͜e.̸.̶.͝S͘h҉aun̢.̵.͝.go̴ḑ ̶S͘haun͘ I̧’m sc̸a͝red̵.

L͞ìgh̷t…i̷n T̸ruth..͞.͞.͘fo̷l̀lo̡w͠ ̷the̵ b͠lo̧o̧d͢ a͏nd ̷ope̢n thȩ ́d͟oor̕.͢

Open the.. Open the door? Bloody hell Desmond can you be more cryptic?

Th͠e͟ Voices d͢on’͠t̛ sa̧y ̢mưch̢. Th̡ey ͜talk͡ at̶ ͢o̸nce. Kn̢o͠wl̡ed̢ǵe͟ pa̛i͏nt́e͞d ҉w̶ith ̷m҉ad͞n͘e̵s͡s.͢ N̢ghh̡-͜ I͟.͟.̴.I c͡an͡’͝t ̨mak̸e sen͠se of͜ ̵it̢.̕ ͡I ̴do̴n͏’̧t́ ͘kn̴o҉w w̸ha̶t Į’͜m̨ ͜s͏ayi҉n̛g̀,̷ ͞Sháu҉n͞.̵.́.͡I don҉’͞t͟ ͞k̵now.

W̸͢͞hí͘sp͜e̕̕r̡҉̨s͘͜͞ ͏į̀n̶͏ ̴͝͠f͏͜l҉̶e҉s͡h́, ̕҉͘b͜e̕g̸g̴͜i͏n̨̛g̨̢ ́fo̸ŕ̷ ̸͟f͏̕͡r̸͝e͟è͜do̶m̶͜.͠͠ ̛͠S̷͟͠o͜ ̴̡e҉a҉̧s҉͟ỳ̀͠,̀ ͏̨̡q͘ú̡í̷c͜͏ḱ̷̕ ̶̡̛a̵̷c̀̕r̶o̸ss͝͞ ̶̧̕t͘h̸̡é ҉w̧͢͢ŕ̡͠i̶̛͘şt̸̕͠ś̸͞ ̷҉̵ą́nd̢͘͡ s͝et̸̸͟ ̨f̡̀ŕe̡͝é ̴́T́r͘͝u͜t͝҉h.̡̛

I’m a bloody historian not the Riddler.. I’m no good at this. You were always better at this than I was.

Ha….h͜a…̛.h̷a͜ha̧ha..́.͟ha͘.̴…h̷͡à̶̕h̴̀a͜͞h̨͢á̢͢.͟.͘͝.̸͢H̡̀́͟͠A̕͝͡H̕͝A҉̴̸͠H҉͡A̸̷H͘͡A͠͏̢͘H҉̵͞A̡͢͝͡Ḩ͘͟Ą̵͡Ḩ̨͏͟A̧͡H̷̡̨͡A̵̡̡҉H̢͜A͘̕͘.̴̢̢͘̕.̧͜.̛̛̛̀͞.̡̧͘͢