My name is Desmond...

My name is Desmond Wilson. And I am a bartender.

Well, I used to be a bartender. They've probably fired me by now 'cuz I haven't shown up for work in a couple of months. No, scratch that "probably". I'm definitely fired by now.

Not that it matters. Not like I'll ever be able to go back.

What would I even do if I went back? Who knows what's happened to my apartment and all my stuff? Man, I hope Reggie's okay. Hope those bastards didn't try to abduct him too. He doesn't have any information on where I went after my escape, but they don't know that. They might think I'm still in touch with him somehow, 'cuz he was pretty much my only friend.

Oh, Reggie's my roommate. The lease is in his name 'cuz I don't have any social security number or birth certificate or anything. Was pretty hard finding a place that'd hire me without a social. If you don't have one of those, it's like you don't even exist.

But I exist all right. It's a good thing I exist, because apparently the fate of the whole goddamn planet rests on my shoulders. Or, to be more precise, on my DNA.

Yeah. It's all about DNA. I don't even know what the hell it stands for. Damn Nuisance Annoyance? Whatever it is, it's controlled my life for the past few months.

Y'know, I used to believe there was no such thing as fate; that everyone was in charge of their own life. I guess I still kinda do, mostly. Except there seems to be an exception to that rule when it comes to me.

It's weird. Assassins are supposed to be about freedom. I was raised to be an Assassin, but I haven't had much freedom in my life. First I was kept off the grid in a boot camp in the middle of nowhere for sixteen years. When I finally busted out of there, I got trapped in the tedious grind of trying to eke out a living on shitty wages and shitty tips. And then I got forced into one Animus after the other, forced to relive the actions of other people, never mind what I want.

What do I want anyway? I... I guess I just want all this stuff, all this Templar and Assassin shit, to go away.

But it won't. Just like it didn't go away after I left the Farm. I just didn't think it was real back then.

Now I know. Sometimes I don't want to know, but I can't ever un-know. Even if I could go back to New York, even if I had a social and everything, I wouldn't be able to forget the things I've seen. The people I've met, the people Altaïr, Ezio, and Ratonhnhaké:ton met, people who lost their freedom, their minds, their lives, everything... all to satisfy someone's twisted idea of what the world should be like.

Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. I used to think it was nonsense. But I think I understand now.

Nothing is true. It means that you can't believe things too easily. You have to question, and keep questioning, and exploring, and finding out more. And you have to be willing to re-evaluate what you think. For example, the Templars think they're the good guys, and we're the villains that just wreck everything. But nobody's a hundred percent good, or a hundred percent evil.

We're all just people. People all try to do their best, but people aren't perfect. And people all think and learn and live and love in different ways.

And that's why everything is permitted. You have to let people have free will. But whatever you do with that free will, you have to face the consequences honestly.

That reminds me... I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier. My name's not Desmond Wilson. There's no reason for me to hide my identity now.

My name is Desmond Miles. And- whether I like it or not- I am an Assassin.