I am a normal young guy. No power, no purpose—at least none that mattered to me. My father used to say our family carried a legacy, something old and important, something I was meant to live up to.
I never cared.
I didn't want responsibility. Whatever he believed in, whatever he was protecting, it wasn't my life. So I walked away.
The last thing I remember is being at a bar when two people approached me. A man and a woman. They said they were working on a science project and needed my help. They seemed… good. Normal. I decided to help them.
At least I had some friends now.
They told me I'd be paid well. All I had to do was test their product. That didn't sound so bad.
Now I'm just waiting.Waiting to wake up and begin.Still, there's a strange feeling I can't shake. Curious—but cautious at the same time.Only time will tell how this goes.
My name is Desmond Miles.And this is my story.
"Woah—woah. Where am I?"
I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavier than it should have. I was lying on a medical bed in a bright, sterile room. Beside me stood a large machine—circular, mechanical, suspended by metal arms. It hummed softly, like it was already alive.
"Hi, Desmond," a familiar voice said. "I'm Lucy Stillman. Remember? We met at the bar."
She smiled, calm and reassuring.
"And this," she added, gesturing to the man beside her, "is Warren Vidic."
"What did you do to me?" I asked.
Vidic raised his hands slightly, relaxed. "Easy. We gave you a mild sedative. The procedure can be demanding on the brain, so we needed you unconscious for a while. We wouldn't be paying you thousands for nothing. It's not exactly an easy job to get in there."
"Get in where?" I asked.
Vidic didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gestured politely for me to lie back down. The mechanical arms above me shifted, lowering a helmet-like device toward my face. It was smooth, layered with sensors and thin cables that pulsed faintly with light.
"Woah—what is tha—"
"The Animus is—"
"Animus?" I interrupted. "What, like some kind of animal simulator?"
Vidic smiled. "Not exactly. Memories aren't stored only in the brain, Desmond. They're encoded in your DNA—passed down, altered, damaged, just like cells. Thousands of years of history inside one human body. The Animus allows us to access those memories directly."
He paused, letting it sink in.
"You wear it," he continued, "and you experience them. We monitor everything from out here."
"Lucy," he said calmly, "set it up."
She tapped on a nearby console, screens lighting up around us. Lines of data scrolled rapidly.
"Let's see," she said, studying the display. "Ah. This should be interesting. The Third Crusade… involving Altaïr Ibn-LaʼAhad."
She looked at me. "You're going to enjoy this, Desmond."
I exhaled slowly. "That actually sounds interesting, Vidic. Start it already. And don't forget the cheque at the end."
The helmet locked into place.
The hum grew louder.
And then—
Year-1191
The Third Crusade