#watching him slowly loose it as you go on is heartbreaking (kudos to the voice actor he did a phenomenal job)

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

A song came up on my shuffle that reminded me of Subject 16 and now I'm thinking about Clay Kaczmarek again.

I have played a LOT of Assassin's Creed and to this day, Clay is one of my all time favorite characters. I actually might like him even more than Desmond (don't kill me please). Everything about him is just so utterly tragic and I don't think the AC fandom (however tiny it is) appreciates him enough.

Like just think about this for a second and put yourself into his situation:

(TW for self harm and suicide. Honestly Clay should just be a TW in general)

Now for the sake of time, let's just breeze past the whole desperately searching for parental approval from someone who won't give it to you to the point that you give up on your dreams. Clay's childhood is lesser known since all of that is in The Lost Archive DLC, but regardless it's still pretty depressing.

So you're in college for something you don't want to do to appease a man that just makes you feel horrible. Then out of nowhere this guy comes up to you and says you can do something greater with your life, serve a good cause with bigger purpose. You join the Assassin Brotherhood and things are going good, great even! For once you're finally happy with your life.

But now you have to do the biggest, most important mission you've ever been sent on. You have to infiltrate the enemy in deep cover for an extended period of time. It will be fine. You've done infiltration missions before. There's already a mole planted. She will get you out. It will be fine. Lucy will get you out.

You allow yourself to be captured. Your kidnappers strap you into a machine that forces you to relive your ancestors memories for hours at a time. There will be long term effects. Your captors don't care. You aren't a person to them, just a number. Just 16. They put you back into the machine.

One day after being removed from the machine something feels off. Like you're not where you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be taller aren't you? Or are you supposed to be shorter? The buildings outside the window look wrong. It doesn't matter. You're out of the machine. You can finally be you instead of someone else, if not for just a little while.

But it gets worse.

Even outside of the machine you still aren't you. You experience memories that aren't yours even when you aren't strapped in. You can't remember the year. You catch yourself thinking its 1480 instead of 2012. You swear a horse almost ran you over but you're in a skyscraper forty stories up.

You're scared.

But it's okay. You have what you came for. Lucy will get you out.

Except she won't. She defected to the enemy side. No one knows to come for you. You're trapped, doomed to be forced into a machine that destroys your mind. You're alone with dead people who feel like they're you. But there is someone... something? A being calling herself Juno.

She might not be real.

She says the end of the world is coming.

She says you are going to die.

You believe her, when you're lucid enough to listen.

You are trapped. If not in the memories of someone else then in this infernal room. There's no point in fighting any more. You won't escape. You can't warn the brotherhood. But you could give whoever comes next a fighting chance. Lucy won't help Subject 17, but you can make sure they aren't alone like you. You can do it. You can stave off the bleeding effect and cling to your remaining sanity long enough to do this one thing. Juno says the world depends on it.

You code an AI of yourself into the machine, split it into encrypted glyphs for 17 to find. You aren't sure how coherent your messages are. Especially not the last ones. You barely remember your own name. It will be okay, though. All 17 has to do is unite the glyphs. You won't be here to help 17, exactly, but your digital memory will. Now you just need to make sure they know to look for them.

There isn't a quick way to do it. They want to keep you alive, even if they don't care about your wellbeing beyond that. You managed to steal a pen. The pen will have to do. Cutting your wrists with the ballpoint hurts, but it's a necessary sacrifice. You'll write your message on the walls and floors. Even after they clean it up 17 will be able to see it. 17 will have the eyes.

"She sees me... raise the knife..."

[tiny-maus-boots]

Wild West AU pt 20

A/N: This one was a little bit longer of a ride. But alas we’ve come to the end of this fic. Thanks dear readers for taking the time to like, kudo, and comment. You’re appreciated.

A/N 2: the biggest of huggest of thanks to my bestie and beta @chloes-yellow-cup because she puts up with a lot of bullshittery from me. And she does the thing with ao3 because I’m lame and refuse to. ilyan

Chloe

“Tell me again why we’re letting her do this?”

Beca huffed and kicked at a loose stone, one hand wrapped tightly around the reins of her horse. Chloe shifted in her saddle and shook her head. They both looked at Stacie who was leaning against a tree watching as Aubrey made her way on to her family’s property. Stacie hadn’t let Aubrey out of her sight since they’d all come back from Penitence. Aubrey was still weak and healing, it was too soon for her to make a trip to back to her family estate but the blonde had been adamant about bringing her brother’s body home for burial. She and Beca had expected Stacie to argue but the tall brunette had simply sighed and nodded her acquiescence.

So they had made the journey together, taking ways less common to get there. It hadn’t been the worst thing for them since most of the people looking expected them to be heading south not east from Texas. It gave them a chance to move a little slower so Aubrey could rest as much as possible which was a bonus she supposed but the whole idea hadn’t set right with Chloe.  Gerrard Posen would not take kindly to Aubrey riding up, much less with her brother’s body in tow.

Stacie turned her head slowly toward them, eyes filled with something dark and heavy. “She’s gotta do this. Bree’s gotta close the book on this part of her life because we ain’t never coming back here again.” Stacie turned back just in time to see Aubrey slide slowly from her saddle but glanced away again as if it hurt to watch. “Least let her say goodbye to her momma.”

Beca snorted at that and threw her hands up in the air. “Eunice can rot in Hell right alongside her devil son.”

Chloe had to clear her throat so she wouldn’t laugh because it wasn’t really funny. Aubrey’s mother had sat by idly while Gerrard had beaten and tortured the blonde on a daily basis. She’d said nothing when Avery had done unspeakable things to his sister, and agreed when Gerrard placed the blame squarely on Aubrey’s shoulders. Truth be told she would have liked to put a bullet in both their heads but she knew agreeing with Beca now would only make her mate ride off after their friend and that wasn’t how it should all play out. “Easy there, Cowgirl. She can handle herself ya know.”

Beca gave her a look and jerked her chin at Chloe’s horse. “Yeah? Then why are you still sitting on that damn Army nag ready to charge down the hill after her?”

It was a point she hadn’t wanted to concede but knew it was the truth. She was just as anxiously waiting for some sign or signal that Aubrey needed them. Chloe opened her mouth to say something but closed it with a click and shrugged. “Because.”

“Because where one goes, we all go. That’s the rule.” Beca turned at Stacie’s rough and strained voice but the taller woman wasn’t looking at either of them. She had her eyes trained to the door of the big plantation manor waiting for the first sight of Aubrey. “And the last time we split it all went to shit and we almost lost…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “It was almost real bad. No one’s sayin’ we can’t have strong opinions on this, we just gotta respect her enough to let her do what she’s gotta do.”

Beca gave a deep sigh but nodded and Chloe dismounted to come around behind her. She slid her arms around Beca’s middle and pulled her back against her chest, chin resting on the brunette’s shoulder. The smaller woman instantly relaxed into her with another sigh, this one much quieter and more resigned to letting things happen.

“I know Bec, I hate her being there with them too.”

Beca nodded, her hands trailing over Chloe’s arms around her. “Think we’d know if something happened?”

The words were hardly out of Beca’s mouth when two shots rang out and echoed up to them. Stacie’s shoulders went stiff for a bare second before she was leaping to Rowdy’s back and pulling him around to the road. Chloe gave Beca a small squeeze before they broke apart, each scrambling to get mounted as quickly as they could. They were halfway to the property line when a familiar figure stepped out onto the verandah. Chloe pulled back the reins and slowed when Aubrey dipped her head and settled her Stetson on top. They were too far to see the expression on her face but Aubrey had come out of the house alone and was slowly climbing back into the saddle with only a glance back at the wagon that held Avery’s coffin.

 Aubrey

“You sure you don’t want us to go with you?”

Aubrey gave a tight lipped smile as she buckled the leather traces on her horse leading the wagon. She did want them to go with her but that was precisely why they could not. All it would take would be for one person to see them all there together and the law would be after them all over again. She patted the big gray on the neck before turning to face her family. Her real family. Not the empty, cold people that had raised her.

“I have to go alone Beca.”

“Do you?”

They had been arguing it for three days now but she understood why her friend couldn’t let it go. Aubrey took a settling breath and limped slowly to the side of the wagon to look at the coffin. Avery was already starting to smell and flies were zinging around the crude wooden box that held his body. Of all of them Beca was the most vocal about her displeasure but Aubrey was not at all fooled by Chloe and Stacie choosing to remain quiet. She knew they would rather be with her than not.

“I do. I don’t expect you to understand, I’m not sure I rightly do myself, but I need to take him home. I need to answer for his end.”

Stacie looked up and then away and she knew that the brunette was thinking Aubrey had nothing to answer for because she hadn’t been the one to murder Avery. But Aubrey would have. If she could have held a gun in her hands she would have shot her only brother dead in the dirt. Had even told Stacie to kill him outright, a thing she only partially regretted.

Avery’s life and death were increasingly heavy weights upon her back and she was ready to leave it all to her father. Let him bear the burden of all those years of pain and suffering, let him struggle with the knowledge that his legacy was no more.

“I get that you think you have something to say but…you can’t say it from the end of your rifle? From way out here?” The plea in Beca’s voice was heartbreaking but she couldn’t let it keep her from what needed to be done. The shorter woman must have realized that it was no use because she rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Okay. Fine. I understand that you have to finish this. Just…don’t let it finish you. Okay?”

Aubrey chuckled and gave a slight nod, surprised when Beca leaned into the undamaged side of her body for a brief hug. She was released quickly and Beca moved off with a sniff that was more telling than any argument she could have made. Honestly she had expected more of a fight from Chloe but her best friend remained quiet, choosing instead to hold Roan steady while Stacie helped her get mounted. It was difficult with her leg gone stiff from her injury and her arm in a sling but she made it up alright.

Stacie let her hand linger on Aubrey’s calf, its warm weight reassuring and comforting. There were a lot of things she wanted to say to Stacie but none she had the words for. It didn’t much matter, the gentle squeeze of assurance and playful wink let her know that Stacie knew exactly why she was doing what she was doing.

“We’ll be waiting on ya, darlin’.”

It was so little, just a single sentence really, but it meant so much. Aubrey touched the brim of her hat and gave a short nod of her head. Stacie chuckled softly and stepped back to let her go. She tapped her heels into Roan’s flanks and he surged forward, pulling the trail pup cart behind him.

Taking the long dirt track up to the main house gave her a strange feeling. It was like putting on a familiar coat and finding it two sizes too small. The closer she got the more tightly constricted she felt until her breathing came in short and shallow pants. Aubrey hesitated for a moment as she passed under the wide arch and continued up the path to the manor.

It was mildly startling when she realized that she hated this place. Hated everything about it from the large white house to everything it represented. She hated the proudly hung confederate flags. She hated her brother and the feeling of dread that came along with his presence, dead or alive. And most importantly she hated her father. A man who sowed cruelty, fear and hate while pretending to be a pious man of principle.

Roan snorted and tossed his head as he slowed and finally stopped, drawing her out of the turmoil of her thoughts. The shadow of the house seemed to grow, reaching further out to cover her almost as if it wanted to claim her. She hooked the knotted reins on the horn of her saddle and carefully swung her leg over, using her good arm to balance as she gripped the horn tightly and eased herself down.

“Miss Aubrey? Lord….wait. Let me help you.”

Strong hands steadied and guided her gently to the ground and she turned to see a familiar smiling face. “Thank you Josiah.” She smiled as she took a step back to take him all in. “You sure have grown tall like your daddy. Last time I was here…”

“I was knee high to a pony.” His deep rumble of a laugh was infectious and she chuckled too. “It sure has been a long time Miss Aubrey. None of us thought we’d ever see you here again. You traded in your pretty Sunday dresses for cold steel instead I see.”

Her smile faded and she gave a slow nod. “I have found that I am more likely to be heard if people think I might be willing to shoot them.”

Josiah gave her a deep laugh and nodded. It was a nice sound and he looked so much like his father Big John. Josiah’s family had labored hard under her father’s ownership and when the Confederacy fell they chose to stay on as sharecroppers and hired help. Despite the way she felt about being back there, she was glad to see the young boy she had known, grown into a man.

“Yes ma’am I do believe that does make one memorable conversation starter. Can I stable your horse?”

She thought about it and shook her head. “No, thank you. Just unhitch him for me. I reckon I won’t be long. I’m just here to bring my brother home.”

He blinked at her then turned surprised eyes to the cart, finally taking in the coffin laying in the bed of it. Josiah let out a breath and turned back to her, his face a careful emotionless mask. “Is that Mister Avery?”

Aubrey gave a curt nod and hooked her thumb in gun belt as she glanced at the box. “It is. I’m sure Father will want to see him buried with the family.” She took a breath and started to walk up to the front steps. Josiah’s low voice rumbled out and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“I’m sorry for your loss Miss Aubrey.”

She gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement and sighed. “Thank you, Josiah.” Aubrey turned back to the large heavy door steeled herself to reach out and open it but the knob twisted and the door swung in before she could do it herself. Aubrey brought her head up and met her mother’s honey brown eyes. “Hello Mother.”

There was a moment when she was sure her mother would slam the door in her face. In the back of her mind she had hoped that she would. It would make leaving all the easier, her duty was done, she’d brought Avery home and now she could leave. But her mother stepped out onto the verandah and flung herself against Aubrey’s body, squeezing her tightly. She groaned softly as her shoulder protested the pressure but she didn’t dare let go. “Oh Aubrey….oh my Lord. You’re alive.”

Tears welled up but she cleared her throat and stepped back. How she wished that her mother had shown even one half of that much affection for her growing up. Of course she knew her mother could never stand up to her father, she was weak and dependent on him and Aubrey could not fault her for that. But it didn’t mean she hadn’t longed for the comfort and love of a mother when she had been hurt so badly. Her mother’s fingers traced over the scar on her face and Aubrey jerked her head away roughly.

“You!” The door swung open wider and her father’s broad shoulder’s filled the space. His green eyes, the same shade as her own, burned with hate at the very sight of her. It was expected and yet it was like taking a kick to the gut. “What are you doing here? You ungrateful…”

“Avery’s dead.” It had stopped his rant before it even began and he searched for the lie in her eyes. There was none and she met his gaze evenly, waiting for him to accept the truth of it. Her father backed into the house, shock making his jaw go slack and his steps seem brittle and unsteady. Her mother balled fists in Aubrey’s shirt and gave her a shake as if that would make it any less true. “I’m sorry mother. I’ve brought his body home.”

Her mother turned to look at the cart sitting not ten feet away and gasped out a sob. She turned and fled into the house to cling to Aubrey’s father for comfort of which he had little to spare. But he held her and rocked her soothingly as silent sobs shook his own body. It was not the loss of her brother than brought Aubrey pain. It was the knowledge that on her passing there would be no such show of grief or tenderness of her memory.

Aubrey settled her shoulders and limped into the house, shutting the door behind her. She swept her hat off her head, letting her golden locks fall to her shoulders. The blonde placed her hat on the round table in the foyer and looked around, taking in every detail and noting that nothing had changed in the slightest.

“How….how did it happen?”

She turned her head toward her father and raised a brow. “He picked a fight with the wrong outlaw and her wife took exception.” It fell heavy as a stone between them, her sobbing mother oblivious to her words or their meaning. But her father was not. His sharp gaze cut to her and she nodded once in confirmation of what he was silently asking. Yes. He had been coming after Aubrey herself.

“You killed my boy? You murdered your own blood?” Rage filled his eyes and he shoved her mother away roughly, the bit of warm compassion evaporating under the burning heat of hate. “I should have killed you when you were a child. Drowned you in the river…” He advanced on her in two steps but her gun was in her hand and cocked before the third step fell.

“I did not kill him, though I would have. Your boy? Your boy was nothing more than a bully and tormentor.” She hadn’t wanted it to come to this but she had known she might need to defend herself, had mentally prepared for it because the house was not the only thing that remained unchanged. He had never loved her, or even liked her before, and now that she was the cause of Avery’s death he loathed her.

“And you are nothing more than a thief and a whore.” Her mother gave a sharp sob but she didn’t argue it and she didn’t get up from her place on the floor where she had been cast off. She wanted to be angry but she couldn’t muster it. She was just too tired of the oppressive weight to living in Gerrard Posen’s mighty shadow. “You may walk out of this house, girl, but I will have the law after you. And the Devil will take you to his bosom when they hang you from your neck. You are a curse and a blight upon the name of Posen.”

Aubrey’s chuckle was soft and he glared at her audacity in mocking him. “He may very well do that, I’ll send your son my regards when I get there.”

It was too much for him and he roared, intending to rush her and take her to the ground. She had no doubt he would choke the life from her if he managed to get his meaty hands around her throat. He’d done it once before only stopping when a fire had sparked in the fields. A fire she suspected was started by Josiah’s father, Big John. Aubrey didn’t wait to find out if she was right or not, she pulled the trigger and shot into the ground at his feet as a warning.

Her mother screamed and covered her ears with her hands. Her father paused only a moment before he continued to lunge. It felt like she had all the time in the world to bring her gun up and aim at his chest. She was already thumbing back the hammer but the soft click was no more a deterrent than the warning shot she had just fired. She thought she would be sad or broken about pulling the trigger a second time. She thought that she would feel….something from taking his life, but she felt nothing at all. Her mother gave another scream and finally lifted from her place on the floor to run to her husband’s side.

“What have you done Aubrey?! What have you done??”

The barrel of her still smoking gun dipped and she wearily holstered it with a shake of her head. “I showed a mercy that was never shown to me.” She opened the door and snagged her hat off the table, sparing one last glance at the house she once called home and the woman she once called mother. “I didn’t come here to kill him, but I’m not sad he’s dead.”

Aubrey stepped out on to the porch and settled her hat on her head. Josiah was staring at her, one hand on Roan’s neck idly stroking. The flutter of red caught her attention and Aubrey’s lip curled in disgust. Anger finally broke through her apathy and she reached up to tear down the confederate flag, balling it and tossing it in the dirt as she made her way down the steps.

“Are you alright Miss Aubrey?”

She didn’t rightly know. But she wasn’t going to sit around there figuring it out. Aubrey strode purposefully to her horse and Josiah cautiously helped her climb up into the saddle. “I will be but Gerrard will not. Best call the doctor up here…and Josiah? Burn that garbage and any other rebel banner you find.”

He gave a slow nod and looked toward the door to the house. “I saw you go north.”

She gave the reins a tug to turn Roan around and raised a brow in question. “What?”

“When they come for you….I saw you leave north.”

He reached up a hand and Aubrey clasped it in hers, understanding fully what he meant. “You’re a good man Josiah, may God bless you.”

Hooves thundered down the path and she smiled as her family rode up to meet her. Josiah ducked his head and smiled up at her. “Where will you really go?”

��Where ever they go, I go.” Aubrey clicked her tongue and Roan trotted forward leaving the weight of her past behind her with every step.