[closed] Beginning Anew

The spray of the salty air was a sensation that was starting to grow on him as he stared out at the ocean. Gabriel Winters was perched in the crows nest of the trading vessel that was taking him back home. The Bountiful Yield was a heavily armed Galleon that the Captain had purchased from a Spanish shipyard for the expressed purpose of long distance trade. The fortune that the ship had fetched was well worth it, according to Captain Gipson, as the long voyages had more than paid for the vessel a time or two over in just the silks and rarities that came from the other side of the world.

This voyage carried many oddities indeed, strangest of all was Gabriel. Standing a solid head over near every person in Japan made him a rather imposing figure, sure to stand out in a crowd. Among European sailors however, Gabriel was simply another man on the deck, easily undistinguishable from the rest of the men, save for his attire.

While he had purchased passage to the American Colonies, Gabriel always felt the need to pitch in. The Captain had already refunded half of his travel fee when Winters had proven himself an able hand on deck. Gabe enjoyed the challenge of manual labor and applied himself to new tasks to keep his mind sharp.

But what Gabriel enjoyed the most, was the endless view. The sea was its own entity, its own world. Storms were about the most dangerous thing you could experience on the ocean. But most days brought an endless view of beauty and peace such as you could get nowhere else. When he was unneeded on the deck, Gabe spent most of his free time up flirting with the clouds. He was leaning against the top of the mast, standing on the small platform just below the ships flag, watching the sunrise.

It was a surprisingly calm morning on the Atlantic. The sun was a glowing globe of bright orange, contrasting with the dark purples and blues of the combating night and day. It was a dangerous pleasure for Gabe. At any moment a rogue gust of wind could come and push him off balance, sending him sprawling into the open air and likely down to his death. But even in a relaxed state, his mind was always in training mode. It taught him how to be cautious even when he was idle. His calloused hands were covered in his typical brown leather gloves, affording him a better grip on the rigging of the mast. But only the right hand held him steady. His left wrist was resting comfortably in it’s customary place on the tsuba (hand guard) of his katana on his left hip.

Gabriel found his mind wandering, and forced himself back to the present when he noticed something in the distance. He immediately squinted against the rising sun at the silhouette on the horizon. The Bountiful Yield was still about a day out from harbor so it wouldn’t seem unusual to have a little traffic. But something about the shadow on the water seemed off.

He wasn’t on duty just then, so he had not brought a spy glass with him. He was on the highest of the three masts that held the sails of the massive Galleon, but the other two perches slightly below his level were normally occupied. He looked at the forward most and was relieved to see that the sailor was indeed in his position, though he was looking the opposite direction from the sun. Gabe curled his tongue and whistled as loud as he could. He knew sound didn’t travel very well when you were up high, as he was.

The high pitched whistle caught the man’s attention immediately. When he’d spotted the source of the noise, Gabe pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed out to the east towards the rising sun. The sailor nodded and repositioned himself to look through his spy glass. Gabriel watched his body language intently. The man spotted the silhouette and leaned forward a bit. It was around that time that he grew a bit rigid. He quickly removed the spyglass and began relaying messages to Gabriel.

First, he held up his right hand and extended three fingers (3 ships, not one), then pointed above Gabe at the flag he stood beneath, then indicated his own shirt and pointed again to Gabriel. He didn’t even need to look down to see what that meant. Gabriel always wore a black jacket. All three ships were flying black flags.

Pirates.

Gabe sighed. He responded to the lookout with a nod of understanding and motioned for him to descend to the deck and inform the Captain.

With another quick glance, Gabe could just make out the separation of the ships on the horizon. Given that they were smaller vessels than the Galleon in which he rode, they were bound to be faster and more maneuverable. With the wind at their backs, Gabe had no doubt that the ships would be upon them within the hour. A ship like the Bountiful Yield would be a serious prize for any pirate. With the goods stored in the belly of the Galleon, any Captain, save for the transporter, would likely be able to retire.

Whether through happenstance or due to foul play, made little difference. The pirates were coming and they were not likely to give up easily on their newfound prize, regardless of the 35 cannons that comprised the Galleons armament.

There would be fighting. People would die.

Gabriel sighed again and pulled his black hood up over his head. It would be time to work soon.

Piracy had all but been stamped out here in the Western part of the world. The British Royal Navy had well seen to that. Piracy was considered a capital offense punishable by hanging these days. So while it was dreadfully uncommon to see a pirate ship in this part of the world, instances did happen. As evident by the current situation about to unfold.

As the hour had passed, the ships grew bigger on the horizon. They were now fully in view. From the size and shape of them, Captain Gipson was being set upon by a Brigand and two Frigates. The Brig alone would be fine, those types of ships tended to be faster but lacked in sheer firepower. The Frigates on the other hand had some serious teeth and would be an issue if they kept their distance. With the amount of strength measured against one another, this fight was going to be about even. This battle would be won by the most coordinated party.

Or, the best leadership.

“Men, you all know your jobs! Those bastards picked the wrong ship to set upon! They want our hard earned goods below decks, but if the battle turns to their favor, you know what to do!” Gipson shouted to his men from the helm. His words brought forth a resounding battle cry from his men. Yes they knew what to do, Gabriel thought. If it looked as though the pirates were going to take the ship, they would have someone waiting down below next to the gunpowder reserves with a match. They would scuttle the ship before they allowed someone else to profit from their deaths. It was a grim bit of work but Gabe had to admire the determination of the man holding the match stick.

As the crew went about their work. Gipson turned to Gabe and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a hard worker Master Winters, and I could use all the help I can get in the battle to come. I don’t suppose you would be willing to work the deck once more for me? I’ve seen men like you before, you carry yourself with pride. If I am any guess at character, I’d say you know how to use that steel on your hip as well. Will you help us Sir?”

Gabriel offered a small nod. He would help. But it wouldn’t be on the deck of the Bountiful Yield.

He would have said as much, but this was hardly the time to set about practicing his social interactions with a man much more versed in such seemingly trivial contests of grammatical etiquette. So for now, he just nodded.

The sound of a boom and a nearby splash brought Gabriel’s mind to what he’d dubbed the ‘Combat State’. He stepped back from his human fears of death and dismemberment and entered a placid state that contained nothing but his senses, instincts and reflexes.

The Assassin vaulted the railing that separated the helm from the lower main deck just as the Bountiful took a hit from behind that made the ship shudder. Cannon balls began to whiz overhead and rip into the deck on both sides. But he was effectively shielded for the moment by the stairs on both sides of the ship that framed the Captain’s cabin.

“They’re box’n us in Cap’n!” One of the deck hands shouted.

Indeed, Gabriel could see the long noses of the frigates squeezing against either side of the Yield. He allowed himself a tiny rueful smirk at the blunder of their opponents. Boxing a ship in against two others meant that they were trying to preserve their bounty from destruction. The problem with this thinking was that it really was only effective against smaller targets. Apparently Captain Gipson was thinking the same, for Gabriel heard the one command that all pirates feared the most from an enemy of such girth.

“FIRE ALL!!!”

The percussion of all 35 cannons roared to life like a thousand thunder claps all at once on both sides of the ship. The staccato was deafening. It was as if Raiden, the Thunder God himself had let loose a fury of nature upon the enemies of Captain Gipson. Wooden decking and men were sent exploding into the sky. Both ships on either side were now heavily damaged. But they weren’t out of the fight yet.

It didn’t really matter to Gabe though. The moment he’d been waiting for had finally arrived. Grappling hooks soared into the air and snagged netting and railings, securing the ships together.

“Give them Hell men!!!” Gipson was shouting from above.

Gabriel charged forward at full tilt and immediately hooked a right. Pistols and rifles were discharging on both sides. Men were dropping from accurately placed shots. As he approached the rail, Gabe noticed another hook being secured to the Yield. He let his speed carry him up in a short hop to the railing, hand sweeping down and yanking the hook free. In the same fluid motion, he bunched his muscles and launched himself perfectly over to the enemy ships railing.

Many things happened rapidly following his landing. A rifle was pointed up at his head from a pirate kneeling behind the railing. Gabriel slipped his captured hook around the barrel and spun away from the man. When the trigger was pulled, the mini ball went directly into the chest of a pirate rushing Gabe with a sword, stopping him dead in his tracks. He then used the hook as a weapon, hurling it around and grunting slightly as he embedded the barbed hook into the temple of the rifleman. As the rifleman slumped to the ground, Gabe slipped his foot under the falling rifle and kicked it up into the air, snatching it and spearing another oncoming swordsman with the bayonet.

Three men dead in as many seconds.

The clash of steel told Gabe that his companions on the Yield had deigned to take the fight to the pirates instead of waiting for them to board. He was grateful for the distraction, for it allowed him to actively search for the pirate vessels Captain. Cut off the head, and the beast would flounder. Unlike the civilized and organized structure of the British Navy, pirates tended to appoint a captain based on the smartest or most ruthless of a bunch. The standard man sailing under a black flag knew much and more about sailing, but nothing about leading. Gabriel’s task was to remove the command chain to end the fight.

It didn’t take but a moment to spot the man shouting orders and pointing. The Captain was a grimy shirtless man whose torso was covered in so much black ink from his tattoo’s that at first glance, Gabriel thought he’d actually had a jacket on. He had a Buccaneers hat with a giant eagle feather sticking out of the side. He was standing beside the wheel of his vessel screaming at his men to board the Galleon they were attacking.

But Gabe wasn't going to give them the chance. He parried a cutlass by stepping inside of his new attackers personal space and smacked the flat of the thick blade aside with an open palm, then followed up with a knife hand strike to the man’s throat, widening his eyes in shock and dropping him to the deck. Before he was down though, Gabriel flicked his fingers to the pirate’s belt and came up with a sharp dirk.

Before the fight could rage further, Gabe lofted the blade by its point, and hurled it with all his wiry strength. The dirk flew end over end straight and true, meeting its final resting place in the chest of the Captain.

Gabriel Winters never hesitated. He didn’t even stop to congratulate himself on a good throw. He was already soaring through the air back to the Bountiful Yield as the first pirate vessel started surrendering. His work was not yet completed.

He rushed to the opposite deck to repeat the process anew.

The battle didn’t last long. From the point where the pirate vessels had come within range and started firing, to the end where the third vessel turned sheets and fled, it had been about fifteen minutes. The second Captain had proved slightly more mentally capable than his fallen compatriot. He had noticed Gabriel immediately and set his men upon the Assassin the instant his boots had touched the deck. In the end though, it mattered little. Gabe had suffered a few scratches from near misses, but few sailors could ever match the training of a real Assassin dedicated to the Creed. The second Captain may have forestalled his execution, but had inevitably met the same fate as the first. And through both battles, Gabriel Winters had not once drawn his own weaponry. He had used his equipment uncountable times before, but found rabble such as pirates and sailors to be unworthy of their touch. Most had never had a proper lesson in bladesmanship their entire lives.

Captain Gipson had ordered both pirate vessels scuttled upon Gabriel’s return. He was next to certain that the Brig that had fled would return to pick the battlefield clean and possibly pick up survivors. And if they didn’t? Then the pirates left floating in the water would get what they deserved.

The Bountiful Yield had taken minor damage from the assault but would take a painstakingly long day to repair. The thought of wasting more time gave Gabriel some cause for despair. His brothers and sisters in Boston had sent word to his Bureau months ago. They required as much aid as possible, and yet Gabriel Winters had been sent alone.

Any other man would have considered this a great honor. To be chosen amongst one’s peers to be a testament of skill and training. But with not a shred of ego, Gabriel knew the truth. Skilled he was, but he was not invincible. He was no singular savior of the Brotherhood in the New World. The others simply had not been ready yet. Too green to make a difference and too naïve to think they stood a chance against a real Templar. So Gabriel Winters had been sent as the lone asset out to the Western world.

“I’ve never seen anyone move or fight like that before.” Captain Gipson said beside Gabriel, breaking him from this thoughts as he watched the repairs being made to the rear of the ship.

“Few people do…” Gabriel said absently. He’d already seen to his cuts and replaced his hood with the black conical hat that he’d taken with him from Japan.

Gipson leaned against the railing next to him, looking down at the work as well. Asking casually,  “What’s that mean?”

The simple question threw Gabriel off guard. How much was he allowed to divulge about the Order? Surely the shadow war between the Brotherhood and the Templars should remain in the shadows. Should he speak plainly to this man or try to mask the truth behind subtly worded hints and innuendo? If it was the latter, Gabriel was in trouble.

“I uh… well, what I mean is that few people get the kind of training I have. Or the circumstance to use it. In any case, it is a lovely day for sailing … today…on the waves, yes?” He flicked his eyes over to the Captain in what he hoped was a solid dodge of the immediate subject and a skillful deflection to something more akin to the opposite man’s hobbies. Instead, his face was the mask of a child caught with their hand inside of the sugar dish…

Gipson’s eyebrows rose towards the clouds. “Erm… Yes, quite. I’ll leave you to your thoughts then, Master Winters. We will be underway within a few hours I suspect. Our journey together is nearing its end, I only wish I had a dozen men like you on this vessel with me. Your combat skills alone make you worth your weight in gold.”

Gabriel stared awkwardly. Was he supposed to smile? That was what you were supposed to do when someone offered you flattery, wasn’t it? So he smiled awkwardly…

The Captain was about to form words again but closed his mouth quickly before they escaped. Instead he simply gave a cautious smirk in response and tipped his hat to Gabriel. “Yes. Well, good day then.”

Gabriel quickly straightened and tipped his own hat in response to the Captains gesture. That was a western custom wasn’t it? Much like bowing to each other as a sign of respect in Japan. When one man tipped his hat, the other was supposed to do the same.

But the Captain frowned and walked a bit stiffly away from Gabriel.

Blast it all! I’ve just made myself look quite the fool haven’t I?! Congratulations Winters, you’re a bumbling idiot who makes the village drunk look eloquent and graceful…

He deigned to return to his tiny cabin. At least there he couldn’t make himself look stupid…

When he got there, he laid down on his cot and sighed, closing his eyes.

So, here John was, after having about...20 too many about a year before, he seemed to have woken up on some ship. He didn't know where he was heading but judging by the chinky eyes he saw, he just guessed somewhere in Asia. He was too hungover at the time to pronounce the place he was going to, but learned it to be Japan. He later found out that in his drunken blackout he had, he had taken a ship to Japan...and fucked various prostitutes. The day they got there, John had accidentally went and drank even more alcohol that night. So the next day, John in his hungover daze after once again drinking about 10 too many, John had seemed to just walk onto any random ship and somehow hadn't been discovered yet. He was lying in the bed of the vacant small cabin. He saw some guy walk into the cabin next to him looking like all of the other Japanese guys and girls on this ship, chinky eyes...something John got punched in the face for when he got to Japan and laughed at. John was just sitting there on the bed, quietly drinking from the bottle before he suddenly felt...something in his throat. He suddenly lurched forwards before suddenly starting to coughing. John had just realised that he was choking..."Oh fuck me! I've been able to fight off 20 guards with my bare hands drunk off my ass! And now I'm gonna CHOKE to death?!" John thought to himself. John was coughing so much that I think anyone nearby heard....and hopefully was concerned at the amount of coughing and rattling of random stuff in his room.

Gabriel was used to the ruckus that came with living on a ship for months at a time. The constant creaks and groans of the wooden hull, the nighttime cheers and boos common of gambling seamen. And still he  had learned to sleep soundly. Which is why, when he heard someone hacking a cough in the cabin next to him, he paid little heed. After all, if a person was truly choking to death and in need of aid, Gabriel would have heard a hacking cough followed by a sudden silence. If someone was coughing, they were still drawing air. He closed his eyes again and tilted his hat forward over his face to sleep. It was probably just another sailor drinking off the effects of the earlier battle anyway.

Two days after the attack, Gabriel shot to his feet at the sound of the warning bell. He snatched up his sheathed katana and ran to the ladder that led above decks. He was ready for battle, even if a bit confused. There had been no warning or indications that they were being followed by other ships.

The thought was cut short when his eyes adjusted to the morning light. Noise assaulted him as the Bountiful Yield pulled into Boston Harbor. Shouting and laughing, waving. Life! The port city of Boston was alive and bustling in the early morning air.

Gabriel pulled himself to his feet and idly slid his sword into the band of cloth around his waist. An unconscious smile spread over his lips as he looked upon new sights such as he’d not seen since before he could remember. Orville had taken him and the other initiates through Boston at the start of their journey. But Gabriel had been barely old enough to walk at that point. And yet here he was, twenty plus years later, gawking at the wooden planks of the pier where he had begun his path.

“Master Winters!” a familiar voice called from the helm. Gabriel spun to gaze up at Captain Gipson, who was grinning from ear to ear. And why wouldn’t he be? Today was the day he got paid for the numerous wares crowding his hold. “It seems we are arrived at our destination Sir! And in one piece no less, thanks to your intervention!” Gipson pulled a small pouch from his belt and tossed it down to Gabriel. It was a small sum of gold.

“For services rendered my friend. I’ll see no coin from your hands on my ship.” Gabe looked down at the pouch and realized it was the very same he’d given to the Captain upon securing passage, only now it was nearly twice as heavy as it had been previously. It was a considerable amount of gold. But Gabriel just smiled and threw it back.

“Disperse that amongst your men if you’ll not have it from me Sir. I’ve no use of money already spent. Though we are arrived and you have many a hand to help, would you have me share the load and unpack your goods Captain?”

The Captain gave a hearty laugh. “Perish the thought Winters! You’re a guest on my home who has done more than a man could expect of any newly hired hand. I’ll not trouble you with the trivialities of unloading my ship!”

Gabriel was grateful for that. He mustn’t waste any more time than what was already gone. “Then I’ll collect my things and take my leave of you Captain and thank you for your services and kindness.” Gabe made to tip his hat and then realized he wasn’t wearing it, causing him to shift his eyes up at his hair in dismay. He’d had the right time! The setup had been flawless, and he’d forgotten his hat…

Gipson roared with laughter. “You’re a strange one Gabriel! May God grace us in sharing a path again someday! Good luck to you son!”

Gabe went back below and collected his meager belongings. It didn’t take but a few minutes to gather himself and find solid ground beneath his boots once more. There was a bit of a bite to the air of Boston early in the morning but for some reason, Gabe found it refreshing. He roamed the streets almost aimlessly, carrying his small satchel over his left shoulder. It was rather nice to be on ground that didn’t sway beneath him again. A ship was freedom, but Gabriel Winters was a bird who delighted in the bars of the cage he occupied.

He was taking in the sights of the Colony and found a few problems immediately. It was difficult to blend in with crowds the further away from the port he walked. His hat made him stand out rather heavily. Also, his hair was styled differently than that of the common Colonial male. He made sure that his first stop was at a merchant’s shop who sold clothing. It was an easy enough thing to trade a common hat for a lightly used foreign one. The merchant should have paid Gabriel due to the worth of what he was getting in comparison to what he was giving. But Gabe would hear nothing of it. The only additional goods he required was a bit of string with which to tie pack his hair, and so the shop clerk had provided that as well. A small strip of tanned leather and Gabriel was on his way.

He ducked into a vacant alley and removed his new hat. After combing his hair back several times with his fingers, he pulled it tight and bound it in a ponytail near the nape of his neck, then bound it with the strip he'd gotten. When he replaced his new hat, Gabriel was just another man in the crowd, just the way he liked it. He'd been born in the Colonies, not in Japan. His eyes were not slanted like those of his instructors. The only thing that set him apart in a crowd was the sword at his hip. But that was not enough to draw attention in this day in age. Many people still carried swords, so the sight of steel on a man's hip was fairly commonplace. The fact that it was a different style than that seen anywhere else on the continent was a fact that was easily overlooked by the common pedestrian.

Gabriel quickly rummaged through his satchel for the letter that had prompted his arrival to America. It held only clues from Orville as to the location of their Bureau. Clues that only a man educated such as Gabriel could follow. The intent was to dissuade enemies from discovering their location lest the letter be taken. So after reading the first clue, Gabriel tucked the letter into his inner jacket pocket and set off on his way. It didn't take long for his senses to start flaring. As he walked the cobblestone paved streets of Boston, he felt eyes upon him.

They were not random passerby either. It was the kind of attention that held danger with it. Someone who had likely spotted him coming off of the ship. And someone who was very likely not friendly.

He was being followed. He just hoped that it wasn't a Templar. After having just landed back on the land of his birth, it was just too soon to start the bloodshed. But if it was in fact a Templar. He would not hesitate to dispatch them.

Gabe tilted his hat down a little and shaded his eyes from the sun. After a few minutes of seemingly random walking, he was sure he was being followed. He dare not look behind him however, lest he spook his pursuer. So he kept his body language serene and oblivious, while his eyes constantly sought out a good ambush spot.

Time would tell who his pursuer was. For their sake, Gabriel just hoped they were ready for the consequences.

John was still choking, unable to breath. Before he passed out..."Welp, this is the end. Good job John, you fuckwit. You've been able to fight off some of the biggest people in the world...and you've just choked to death, way to go you idiot..." John thought to himself just before he faceplanted. But then...he actually woke up, in the place that he couldn't believe they called the sickbay, when the smell wanted him to be even more sick.

But he was alive somehow...and he was looking around before he saw that annoying 5 feet 5 man who had that real posh British accent. "Ah, you're awake my dear boy. Don't worry, you're fine. I saw you choking on some water down in the vacant cabin, I was able to get it out before you choked to death, you're quite lucky, had I not got there when I did, you wouldn't be looking at me right now. Now, there's only one problem, I've never seen you before and I didn't see you when everyone who booked to get onto this ship came on. So who the hell are yo-" the doctor said before John interrupted him and said "Stop, right....there. Now, listen, doc. I am very thankful that you were there to save my life, well, not really, I don't live for much. But allow me to say right now that if you ask me that or go to the captain and tell him that I'm on this ship, I will rip your tongue out of your mouth with my bare hands and kick you into the sea. You got it? Just let me go back to my cabin and forget this ever happened, if you want to keep your life." John finished, erratically rubbing the back of his neck staring into the doctors soul. "Oh...well, I...umm...threats are threats, my dear boy. And I bet you will not do tha-" John then jumped up and punched him in the face. "Do you wanna bet you fucking annoying Brit?!" John yelled at him, eyes widened, his breathing getting more and more deep. "How very dare you strike m-" He then began to shout before John yelled again "ANOTHER WORD TO ME OR ABOUT ME AND I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU UNDERSTAND?!" The doctor then looked at him in terror, before finally nodding.

John then walked to his cabin again, surprised that no one heard them. But then again, the terrible singing from the top floor probably drowned out the noise. John decided after that to not drink for the rest of the journey. He just got back to his cabin and went to sleep.

Two days had passed since that attack which he heard about but didn't remember at all, probably because he was too drunk at the time to even care or remember. The doctor seemed to have kept his word. He looked out of his cabin window and saw that they were at the port of Boston. John knew he wouldn't be able to just walk off the ship without some sort of fight. So he decided that he was gonna have to do something...a little more...insane. John picked up his bed, walked backwards out of the cabin...before running full speed through the wooden wall using the bed as a battering ram. John then fell right into the water and climbed back up via the wooden pillar things under the port. Now, since he was just the same generic drunk most people see in America, he was able to blend in with the crowd and walk away as people looked at the massive hole now in the ship.

John then started to walk to the local tavern before taking a right into a small alleyway before at the end of the exit of the alley on the otherside, he saw a man walk past, and he was able to pinpoint that he was the man who was in the cabin next to his...on the day that he nearly choked to death. "Wait...if he most likely heard me nearly choking to death...he seriously didn't even try to help me? The fuck? Well...looks like I'll take a detour then." John thought outloud, before beginning to follow the man.

However he then noticed to his right that another man was walking in the exact same direction as him and in the same "pursuing" kind of style. Every turn the Japanese man took, John took along with the pursuer...."Looks like I'm not the only one following him...." John thought to himself.

Time would tell what his motives were, but right now John just had to keep following.

It was almost time to act. Gabriel had effectively passed the same shoe shop twice now. His earlier “aimless” wandering was little more than a ploy to get the lay of the land. Normally he didn’t have to actually use that tactic so soon but the arrival of his pursuer hastened things a bit. This had been part of his shadow training several years ago. The Assassin’s Brotherhood had been around for centuries. But they weren’t the only culture of Assassins in the world. The Japanese had its own full blown training program for their particular breed, known as Shinobi. They were warriors of the darkness, the walkers of shadow.

It was from these legendary ghosts, that Gabriel Winters had received his instruction. That was not to say that the Brotherhood was a lesser branch of killers. Both were skilled in their own right. Both were steeped in tradition. Both were utterly dangerous. But when you married the two cultures together, you received a deadly hybrid such as the likes of Gabriel Winters. Drop a warrior from the east, into combat in the west and both sides were likely to gawk at each other. Tactics needed to be changed, battle stances adapted. The idea of battle was always the same but the manner in which it was executed could change dramatically. Unfortunately for his tail, Gabriel was about to show him a few basic skills of a seasoned stalker.

Gabriel was back on the wide cobblestone street that was home to the docks. With an utter look of confusion painted on his face, he approached a fish vendor setting up his stall for the morning.

“Pardon me Sir.” He started. “Could you kindly direct me to Bardon’s Shoe shop? I’m afraid I am terribly lost.” When it came to normal social interactions, Gabriel was hopeless. But when it came to faking emotions and playing people for his profession, Gabe didn’t miss a beat.

“Why Son, you’ve already gone past it!” The man replied. He pointed to a sign hanging from a building about a block behind Gabriel. “Bardon’s is just there, and you’ll not find a better man to craft your foot ware in all of Boston! You tell’im I said so!”

Gabriel turned and followed the direction of the vendor’s pointing. But he didn't look at the shop. He knew where it was, he’d past it twice already…

Time to see the skill level of my pursuer…

The street was crowded enough that someone could easily go undetected if they didn't betray themselves. But Gabe saw what he was looking for. As soon as he turned around, a man some distance behind him turned away awkwardly, to stare at the wall of a building. The unexpected shift in his situation put the man off balance. He wasn’t aware of his surroundings.

Blue sleeveless open shirt, tattered light brown hat, barefoot. And an amateur…

Gabriel made as if he didn’t see the man, instead fixing his eyes on Bardon’s shoe store. “Ahah! There it is of course. I’ve past it a time or two now! Blind as a bat in the morning sun it seems. Thank you kindly good sir!”

He bade farewell and then doubled back up the street to the shoe maker. The man’s attire placed him as a sailor. Gabe noticed the man’s posture as he passed. It only took a moment but the moment was all he needed. The man was familiar to Gabriel. He'd sailed under Captain Gipson. The Galleon was a large ship to be told true, but months at sea and you were bound to run into everyone on board at one point or another. Unfortunately, Gabe was so focused on his pursuer, that he failed to notice that his tail, effectively had a tail. Another man from Gipson's ship, though not a sailor.

Things were starting to click into place as Gabriel walked happily to the shoe store humming to himself idly. The question was, were the Templars really so focused that they could plant an agent to intercept an Assassin from across the world? The implications were staggering. Either they had planted men on ships going to and from Japan, waiting for someone who stood out as an Assassin somehow, or they had followed Orville and the other children well over twenty years ago, and had waited until one or more of them returned on another ship decades later. Could they be that patient? To waste a chunk of a man’s lifetime just to wait?

Gabriel had faced a Templar once before in Japan. The man was tenacious, cunning and deadly. It had been Gabe’s great pleasure to end the man and his schemes. He knew that the man following him was no Templar. Perhaps just an agent, a pawn.

He’d only been in Boston a couple of hours and already, things were heating up. That was alright with Gabe though. His blades had gone too long without drinking Templar blood. He would need to feed them soon.

Gabriel strode straight past the shoe shop and turned down another alley that he had scoped out the hour prior. As soon as he had broken line of sight, using the buildings edge as cover, he turned and waited. It didn’t take long for the sailor to turn down his alley. Though the look on his face as Gabriel stood waiting hardly a hand’s breadth away was that he was likely about to soil himself.

“Hi there…” Gabriel said casually. The sailor tried to turn and run but Gabe was too fast. He snatched up the man’s shirt and slammed him up against the side of the building. “You’re not very good at staying unnoticed, are you friend?” he said through gritted teeth.

“P-p-please Sir I was just wantin ta…” He stammered in response.

“Unhand that man at once!” A new voice said.

Gabriel snapped his head to the side and noticed he was quickly being boxed into the alley way on both sides. Red coats surrounded him from left, right, and above if the sound of rifles cocking was any indication.

Lovely. I’ve laid an ambush and walked into one myself. Nice one Winters.

The voice belonged to the officer of the bunch. A rigid man sporting the standard white wig of a man in service of the Crown.

“I was jus wantin to take this little bugger off your hands, I was..” The sailor said now with renewed confidence. He slipped his hand into Gabe’s inner coat pocket and retrieved his letter. “You can let go now pumkin.”

Gabriel didn’t have much of a choice. He was fast but if he moved anywhere right now he would be gunned down for sure. He released the sailor, who promptly walked over next to the officer.

“Be a lad and take that letter back to our benefactor, won’t you?” The officer said without so much as a side glance at the sailor. The sailor nodded quickly and walked off.

“Hand’s where we can see them boy. Our Commander would like to see you for questioning. Corporal, relieve him of his weapon.”

The Corporal moved to comply with his Captain’s order, but stopped dead when Gabe fixed him with an icy stare. “You touch that blade, you die first. Understand?”

He hesitated only as long as it took to see the look on his Commanding Officers face before he mustered his courage and pulled Gabe’s Katana from his belt, sheath and all.

Gabe shook his head ruefully.“Big mistake..”

Truthfully, Gabe would not be able to take them all at once. The riflemen would end him before he could move. If only he had someone to take out the soldiers on the roof....

John had been tailing him from one place to another, and from what he saw, he knew that this man hadn't exactly been to America that many times. He tailed him until he saw a bunch of redcoat bastards walk into the alley Gabriel walked into. John smirked at this "Been too long since I showed some redcoats what true pain feels like..." John said under his breath. John got up against the wall and listened to the conversation.

Before the man who was tailing the Jap came out of the alleyway, John quickly and swiftly put him in a chokehold, covering his mouth. His screams were too muffled for anyone to hear. John then quickly snapped his neck, killing him instantly. John then looted the man, finding the letter in one of his pockets. John quickly put it in his pocket and hid the body in the well nearby. John then quickly ran back to the ambush, going back against the wall, refocusing to the ambush and saw that the Jap had been disarmed. John knew that he wasn't a bad guy, if the redcoats were after him. John looked at his surroundings and concluded a pretty insanely suicidal plan. With a surprise attack, John could probably climb the roof and quickly kill all of the idiots with guns. John quickly set to work, climbing rather sloppily up the wall before lunging at one of the gunmen.

John quickly disarmed the man, stabbed him in the back of his neck, took the gun out, snapped the wood in half using his knee, threw one half at another like a spear and lunged at another one on the other side of the roof. By now, the riflemen had recovered from the surprise and were ready to shoot. John then used the gunman as a human shield just in time for all of the riflemen to open fire, killing their own man. John then quickly threw the remaining half of the gun at the second to last man, stabbing him in the heart. Before taking the human shield's gun and firing at the last gunman, John missed but it caused the gunman to flinch and give a quick opportunity to attack. John quickly lunged at the man, before grabbing his tongue and stabbing it with the bayonett, then stabbing the man in the testicles before finally stabbing him in the throat, leaving the knife there. John then quickly jumped down to get in on some of the action on the ground level...

Two soldiers were binding Gabriel’s wrists with a length of rope when the ruckus started above. All eyes shifted up except Gabriel’s. His were locked on the Corporal who had taken his soul. Most swords were generally interchangeable with one another, but the Katana that the Corporal now held was Gabe’s rite of passage. He had earned that very blade from his mentor following his first successful kill. It implied mastery of the skills that he’d been taught. To have it removed was the same as stripping him naked and parading him around the street for all to see his shame.

His two guards looked up as their snipers opened fire on someone above. It was all the distraction he needed. They had not been done tying the knot to bind him, and he easily shucked the ropes from his wrist. Both of his hands lashed out and caught his captors in their throats. It wasn’t a killing blow, he’d struck them both with the spot between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t kill them yet. He had a promise to keep…

As the two men went down eyes bulging and gagging, Gabe closed the gap between himself and the Corporal. He swept both of his arms out in arcs, wide of the man’s body and shot them in directly towards his face. The hidden blades at Gabriel’s wrists ejected to full length the instant before they were embedded into the Corporal’s eyes and sank up into his brain cavity. The man gaped and twitched uncontrollably, as though possessed by demons. Gabe ripped his blades free, and they slid back into his sleeves as the Corporal dropped lifeless to the grass. Gabriel caught his sheathed sword before it hit the ground.

By this time the Captain had recovered. He realized his men were under attack. “Aim!” he shouted, sword in the air. But Gabriel silenced him when he drew his own sword in a deliberate motion. He’d tucked the sheath back into his belt already, but the chaos of battle lulled for a moment when the steel cleared its home. Rays of sun hit Gabriel’s sword and for an instant, it was as though he was holding a glowing shaft of light.

The Captain squinted against the light. “F…”

“Too slow!” Gabriel shouted. He shot forward like a cannon ball, sprinting straight past the Captain with his pristine sword trailing behind him as if it were a bolt of lightning. His steel struck home on the first line of riflemen, crouched in their ready positions. Triggers were pulled and shots went wide. They had been aiming where Gabriel was an instant before. Eight men were in the squad behind the Captain and three of them were dead before they understood what was happening. Again and again his sword struck home, streaking out with the speed of an enraged King Cobra. Debris was flying through the air but it was impossible to tell the difference between what was fabric from the soldier’s destroyed uniforms, and what was blood, for both rained indiscriminately from the air.

Three men left, including the Captain. All blades were drawn now.

Gabriel parried a casual swing easily and delivered a knee to the soldiers’ stomach, then rolled back to back with the man as he doubled over and swept his sword straight down to trace a deep, angry red line of blood down the center of the only other soldier in the squad. He finished the maneuver by letting the momentum of the swing carry him full circle to the ground, where he intentionally collapsed his legs to roll. He rolled on his knees and carried his blade backwards to the winded soldier, separating his head from his shoulders all before Gabriel was back on his feet.

There were four more men on the other side of the alley that led back to the street. By now, some people were gathering behind them to see what was going on. But most of the commoners had started to flee when the sound of gunshots rang out. Gabriel ignored the remaining men. It seemed his untimely rescuer was going to take care of them.

Which left him and the Captain alone.

The Captain was a true swordsman of the British Army. His form was flawless, his stance was perfect. But for all of his training, he had never faced a man like Gabriel Winters before. His form made him predictable. His stance made him weak on his unguarded side. Gabe easily batted his strikes aside with his Katana in a one handed grip. That was when he got a good look at his opponent’s sword. It was cut and notched in some places from constant use. It was little more than a sharp hunk of chipped iron. This officer didn’t take care of his equipment.

Gabe pounded his foot against the ground in a feint, causing the Captain to raise his sword in a guard to receive the impending attack.  Gabriel raised his sword above his head and brought it down with both hands. His Japanese steel sliced neatly through the Captains iron, sending three quarters of the blade back to the earth.

“You should take better care of your equipment Captain… It might fail you in the most inconvenient of times should you not…” Gabriel said airily as he raised his sword eye level and advanced on the unarmed man. He flicked his gaze over to his rescuer just to see if he was in trouble. But he was picking the remaining men apart with a vicious ferocity.

“What do you want of me….?” The Captain asked as he backed against the side of the building. “I’ll not beg.”

“A name.” Gabe said simply. “What is the name of this so called “Benefactor” that your man just made off to with my letter?”

“And if I offer you such, you would allow me to live?”

“If you offered such, Sir, I would grant you a clean death, free of pain.”

The Captain gave a nervous chuckle. “Hardly a salesman, are you? If I am to die anyway, why would I divulge anything to you at all?”

“I am obligated to take your life Captain, not because of the choice you make now, but instead because you’ve allied yourself with those who would see the world conquered, instead of freed. The morals of the men you follow, would allow cities to burn and crumble just for the sake of a show of force and power. You were destined to die for the sake of their cause, whether by my hand or another. The decision you have before you however, is to help rectify your wrongs in leading these men to their deaths, for following your Masters unknowingly or help the world end the very Masters that send you to fight in their stead. Your choice is to have me stick you in the stomach and watch you bleed to death slowly, and painfully. Or to give me the information I seek, and have me end you quickly and with no pain. Choose.”

The Captain glanced over and watched the last of his men die. He closed his eyes and nodded. “White. His name is Mr. White. I tell you true, I don’t know his real name. He only ever went by Mr. White. We normally meet in the abandoned warehouse on the other end of town. You won’t find him though Assassin… He only summons us when he wants us. I’ve never seen him otherwise… That’s all I’ve got to give you. Do what you must.”

Gabriel nodded and pulled out a cloth from his jacket. With it, he wiped clean the blood on his sword.

“You choose dignity, Captain. There is honor in this. Have you any last words?”

The Captain stood up and straightened his uniform. “….Damn them for doing this to me and my men. Make them pay for it.”

Gabriel nodded a fraction, his expression grim. “You’ve my word on it.”

And then he removed the Captain’s head in a quick clean stroke.

With a flick of his wrist, he removed the new blood from his steel. Gabriel gave a quick flourish of his blade before sliding it back into its sheath. Only then did he look over at his timely distraction.

“You’ve my thanks friend. But I’d suggest we make haste and leave this alley lest we draw more attention to ourselves.”

John, having been almost completely covered in blood after single handedly turning the final man's face to mush with his fists, looked up to the Jap. "Alright...well, I didn't exactly follow you into this alley for a reason anyway, lets go." John said taking deep breaths. John then wiped all of the blood that was on his face onto the coat of one of the redcoats, before leaving the alleyway, expecting the Jap to follow. "Follow me, I know a place we can stay without attracting too much attention" John instructed, before walking into the local tavern and sitting down, the Jap then sat next to him.

"Okay, well first things first, here's that letter you got taken off of you. Don't worry about the guy who took it, he's been...ahem....dealt with." John said quietly, handing the letter to the Jap. "Now tell me, I saw you on the ship, I was in the cabin next to yours, I actually wanted to know why exactly you didn't come and help me, as I choked to death?" John asked, slightly raising his voice.

Gabriel had no real understanding of Boston yet. There wasn't much choice but to follow his "Savior". It did not escape Gabe however, at the manner of brutality in which the British soldiers had been dealt with.

He followed John to the tavern, more aware that the man he was following was showered in fresh blood. Gabe hoped he had a change of clothes somewhere, lest he draw more attention than they already had.

As they sat down, John handed over Gabriel's letter. He eagerly, though politely took the letter back and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket.

"Choke to dea... Ah.... I see. I recognize you now. You're the drunkard from the Bountiful Yield... spent the better part of two months examining the bottom of a bottle as I recall." It had not escaped Gabriel's notice that a man of John's fighting skills had been blatantly absent during the pirate attack. If it was indeed a pirate attack... He was starting to wonder if there had been a single honest man on the ship crossing the ocean. For this man too, had been a passenger on his voyage to America.

"Obviously you didn't choke to death, as you are sitting here before me. Had there been any danger, I'm sure I would have responded. More importantly, did you follow me into that alley with only that question in mind?"

If he did, then he had killed the soldiers for fun. The conversation was becoming more and more disturbing the longer it drew out.

John looked at the man before saying "Actually, the only reason why I'm alive is because the doctor on the ship was able to save me, mere seconds after I passed out and mere seconds before I would of choked on both the alcohol and my own vomit, to death." John clarified. "And while I was gonna actually be a lot more...hostile and interrogation like towards you about not to save me, I saw that you have those wrist blades. Now, about a year ago over in New York, I learned about these Assassins and these Templars. Now, my step father, who killed my mother was with the Templars, at the time of his death. Now, I'm not an Assassin myself, just isn't my style, but I'm on good terms with them. Now since both Templars...and Assassins have those little blades on their wrists, it means you're either an Assassin or a Templar. However, I can tell you're an Assassin because the redcoats are...quite involved with the Templars, and you like me...killed them. So I also saved you because I wanna make sure that every Assassin I see in trouble, makes out of it alive." John said, before ordering his drink and taking a large gulp of it.

Gabriel was slightly slack jawed. The man before him sounded drunk already. It was as though his brain was resetting after every comment.

"I uh... yes well it's good to see you are on good terms with the Order. Not many are privileged with the knowledge of it's existence. Again, I appreciate your help. I'll pay for a few rounds for you."

Gabe threw a few coins on the table to make good on his promise as he stood. The man before him was an unknown. And if his speech patterns and fighting style were any indication, he was a loose cannon that would cause more damage than he would help. Gabriel was running short of time though. He'd already been attacked after only a couple of hours. He really needed to find the Bureau and speak with the local leader of the Brotherhood to see where he would be put to best use.

"I do however, think that this would be a good time for us to part ways. I have much to do in a short amount of time. I'd ask that you do not follow. Good day Sir."

Gabriel pushed his chair in politely and tipped his hat to John, never even asking the man's name or giving his own.

At least you remembered your hat a hat on this time...

The sheer fact that John had blamed Gabriel for allowing himself to nearly choke on his own vomit for lack of self control spoke volumes about his character. It was an addition that Gabriel didn't need in unfamiliar waters. And that besides, John said he was on good terms with the Brotherhood. But Gabriel only had an unknown man's word against nothing to back it up.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed when his back was to John, making his way for the door.

John then quickly stepped off his chair and walked up to Gabriel just before he left the tavern, putting his hand on Gabriel's shoulder and turning him round. "I know what you're thinking...assassin, you only have the word of a man who is obviously a loose cannon and is without a doubt the most mentally insane man you're gonna meet..." John looked at him, before taking a few deep breaths, erratically and slowly rubbing the back of his neck and the back of his head, his eyes closed, before they opened and went wide eyed at the man "But trust me when I tell you this, if I was some Templar bastard who you shouldn't trust? I would of cut your dick and your balls off and fed them to you by now before ripping your throat out with my bare hands." John quietly said under his breath, his eye twitching. "But before you leave, I want to tell you that my name is John, John Ambrose. And I would like to know yours." John then said, still having deep breaths like he was trying to calm down with all his will power.

Gabe stopped at John's approach. Quick study, this one. Insane is the exact term I would have used.

At the comment "disproving" John was a Templar, Gabriel could only raise an eyebrow and say "...Yes, quite. That is incredibly... graphic, thank you."

When it came down to it. John was indeed insane. Gabe had no doubt. But his intentions seemed innocent enough. It was almost like John was similar to Gabe in a way. Gabriel was a virtuoso in combat, but when it came to trying to understand people and make any type of friend, he failed miserably. In the same respect, John was a wrecking ball, a battering ram. Blunt and forceful. When it came to talking, the man just had no filter.

Gabriel supposed part of that was the amount of alcohol Ambrose drank.

But should he give his name? John seemed a well enough sort that it wouldn't hurt anything. The problem was, Gabriel just didn't know him. Gabe Winters lived in a world of lies and secrets. So he did what came naturally to him.

He told the truth from his own point of view.

"John Ambrose. I'll not forget the name. I was raised in another land, where names differ greatly from what you might be used to John. Where I am from, my name is Yoru Ken. Perhaps we will cross paths again someday."

With that, Gabriel nodded once more, calm as ever and opened the door out to the street, closing it gently behind him.

It wasn't a lie precisely. His peers had nicknamed him Yoru Ken in their training years. It was a useful alias when he needed one. And no one in America was likely to know that those words were from another language or what they actually meant.

Gabriel nodded to himself, satisfied, and made his way down the street with his hands in his pockets. Making for the first clue that he'd read in his letter.

John looked at "Yoru" as he walked out. "Nah, with the way he was going around, he barely knows what in the living fuck he's doing in America. Also...if he was American, why would he have a Japanese style name? No, we aren't done just yet, Yoru Ken" John thought to himself, before leaving and beginning to once again tail the mysterious man.

The first clue had been easy to find. Orville had written the letter in such a way that an Assassin would recognize signs and words. Even forewarned with prior knowledge to the cipher workings, Gabriel was struggling with the second location that the letter was leading him to. He was well into the city of Boston now, and trying to simultaneously get the lay of the land, noticing landmarks and the like.

His own nature was battling his purpose at this point though. His nature told him to be paranoid of pursuit, but his purpose to find the Bureau was forcing haste. It had been months since the receiving of his letter. Orville knew things were heating up, but he hadn't detailed any of the goings on's in the letter. He had simply stated that the time had come for the sons of America to return, and to do so with all speed.

Gabe had come as soon as he was able, but it was just too long of a trip.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. No matter how badly the Colonial Assassins needed him, it would not due to lead enemies to their front door. When he opened his eyes he was clear of mind. It was then that he realized he was literally standing next to the second clue, which happened to be an iron fishery sign pointing north. Gabe snorted to himself and continued on.

His paranoia was taking hold, and he forced himself not to look back to see if he was being tailed again. There were only two possibilities at this point. Either another Templar wannabe had followed him from the tavern, or more likely, John was watching where he went again.

Gabriel's eyes flicked to the rooftops of the nearby buildings. When he found one that would serve his purposes, he started weaving a random pattern down tight side streets and alleys. If someone were following him again, they would need to stay very close as not to lose him. Gabe made sure to round as many corners as he could, breaking line of sight for anyone behind him numerous times.

By the seventh turn, anyone following Gabriel would find themselves at a dead end between a church and a row of houses. The dead end was completely empty. Gabriel was nowhere to be found.

He seemed to have up and vanished into thin air.

John, having been following Gabriel, had actually been a lot closer to the man than he might think. So when "Yoru" started to get ready to go through corner after corner after corner (a common trick, in America that John had seen), John quickly but quietly climbed onto the roofstops and was able to follow Yoru via there, giving him abirds eye view. When the man had gotten "away", John simply jumped down and continued to follow him, seeing that the man had calmed down and didn't seem as tense as before.

Gabriel did indeed feel a bit more secure after his maneuvers. All but the most stringent pursuers would have been lost in his simplicity. The paranoia lessened, but whether that be from his own action, or the need to find his people, he could not say.

After an hour of walking, Gabriel was finally getting close. He was nearing the outskirts of town as he read over the final clue once more. He referenced the building in front of him, glanced around for the markers and nodded in satisfaction. This was it.

The building was simple looking in design. By outward appearances a simple farmhouse with a joining barn. The area was relatively open. Cover would be harder and harder to find. If anyone was actually still following Gabriel. It would be known quickly.

He strode to the barn with the confidence of a man out of time. As he entered, Gabriel looked around. It was a barn... hay lie everywhere but there was no livestock to be seen. He closed the barn door behind him before continuing on. There was a strange smell about the place. Not one typically found in a barn, but he couldn't place it.

According to the clue, Gabriel thought, there should be a hidden escape door under the fourth stall. Gabe went to the stall in question and dug through the enormous pile of stray. He smirked to himself as his hand touched a metal latch. He quickly yanked it up positioned the hay on top in such a way that when he descended to the hidden room below, the pile would surge forward back over the top, hiding it from view.

A short distance down the ladder brought Gabe into a hallway with no light. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the extreme darkness. There was a dim light some ways distant, and he began for its source. The smell was more pronounced than it had been on the surface. When he found the source of light, he was sure to find the source of the smell as well. It was, familiar somehow but not in a pleasant way. It was a rotten kind of smell.

Unease began to fill Gabriel's stomach. The closer he got to the dim light, the worse the smell became. He uncertainly drew his sword and advanced slowly. As he rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, Gabriel saw that the light was from shafts cut in the ceiling to filter natural light down into the main chamber. The main chamber itself was cut deep into the earth. It was round in shape, a kind of training floor emblazoned with the Assassin's Emblem set in brick dominated the room. Off to the side were wooden mannequins where gear could be placed. There were thirteen racks, likely for the number of members for this Bureau.

But none of that mattered to Gabriel. The light from the shafts showed little else but destruction. The floor was blackened and cracked. And then Gabe found the source of the smell.

Corpses.

Burnt cadavers.

Gabe nearly lost grip of his sword. He covered his mouth and nose with his free hand and rapidly strode forward. There were ten bodies on the ground, most blackened and charred from being burned. But some were distinguishable as people. Their faces had been stabbed through or crushed. Blackened weapons were strewn haphazardly around the area.

Fear gripped his stomach for the first time in years. "No..... no, no, no no....This can't.." He began stammering.

For the bodies that had not been burned, Gabriel Winters saw hooded robes adorning their bodies.

Everyone dead in the chamber was an Assassin. The Bureau had been completely wiped out.

Gabriel fell to his knees in disbelief. He'd been too late. But judging by the state of decay on the corpses and the lack of smoke, these men and women had been dead for weeks.

Winters collapsed forward onto his hands, sword still gripped in his right. He fought with his body to keep from retching.

"...My god..." he whispered.

John had been following the man, into this hallway underneath a barn. Before John sniffed the air to smell..."Wait...why does it smell like....corpses in here...?" John thought to himself, while following him. Before seeing Yoru collapse in front of him, John looked to where he was looking and saw....why it smelled like corpses in this place....it was because every Assassin in Boston was dead.

Anger, started to build up in Johns chest, as the assassins were in actual fact the closest thing to him since his mothers death. John decided to stop hiding. "Yoru....I'm so sorry....I truly am sorry. But...we have to find out what happened here. Listen, I know that...because of my insanity that you don't trust me all that much. But I'm the only friend you got here. If you go on your own, I can guarantee you will die. Now, the assassins are very close to me, so I'm just as hurt as you about this...but I think it's time we both take some revenge on some...fucking Templars." John said, his voice raising when he said the word "Templars"

The arrival of John Ambrose caught Gabriel completely off guard. The sudden noise behind him startled Gabriel to action. At the sound of his name, Gabe shoulder rolled from his kneeling position and came up in a low crouch with his sword at the ready.

He immediately recognized John and lowered his blade a fraction.

"John?"

Confusion coursed through Gabriel's veins as John spoke. How did he even get down here? How had he found the trap door? It was irrelevant at the end of the day. John was here now. Insane or no. No point in trying to debate what already was.

Anger was what hit Gabriel next. His ice cold demeanor shattered in the face of such destruction. Having this many of the Brotherhood murdered... it was a catastrophe. A serious blow to the Order. The loss of the combined experience of all of the dead in that room would set the Assassin Brotherhood back generations. The avoidance of such a strike was exactly the reasoning that had seen Gabe sent away as a child. It wasn't just to find others.

It was preservation.

Gabriel didn't want to admit it. He didn't want the help, but he couldn't balk in the face of facts. He now had no contacts in America. He had no one with direction to give. No one with contacts.

No one but John Ambrose.

Instead of responding to John verbally. He just nodded numbly and sheathed his sword. Revenge would come. Oh, it would come. But at that moment. The dead needed to be honored. So Gabriel pulled off his hat and tossed it aside, and began organizing the corpses for burial. It would be near impossible for both Gabe and John to remove the bodies from the underground vault. So Gabriel decided that the training room would be their tomb. He would seal all the entrances when they were done.

He worked in silence for a long time. But after what seemed like a lifetime, he scowled. Hope, lit up his heart again.

"Wait..." he said almost in a whisper.

"Wait wait.... there are only ten bodies." As he looked over to John, he shook his head and pointed. "Thirteen racks for gear, ten bodies. There's a good chance that three of them are still alive..."

After hearing that they might be alive, John's eyes lightened up a little. "Hmm....have you checked the other rooms yet? If not, go ahead, take a look around here, I got the bodies, don't worry. I don't think you really wanna watch this." John said with a slight laugh, before putting one of the bodies on his back, struggling a bit because of the weight of the gear on the assassin.

Gabriel didn't want to leave the bodies of his Order to someone else, but of the two, he was better suited at investigation due to his mental proficiency.

"I'll look. Just be careful not to damage the remains any more than they are already. Being burned will have left the flesh brittle...." Gabe stopped and looked away for a moment, disgusted by the thought.  "Brittle and weak." He finished.

With that, he turned his back on John and moved deeper into the underground Bureau. Past the training room was a variety of small areas that housed food stores and sleeping quarters. The food was mostly spoiled and the bunks had been abandoned. Footlockers had been overturned, likely when the Templar forces were looking for intelligence of some kind. Gabe sifted through randomly strewn paperwork but found nothing of real interest.

Finally, Gabriel made his way to the last room in the Assassin's hideaway. It was an office of sorts. Another round room like the main training area, adorned with several paintings and maps. An oak desk dominated the center of the room, behind which was a massive white flag with the Assassin's emblem stitched on in crimson.

Sitting behind the desk, was another body. Blue and white Assassin robes that Gabriel immediately recognized as his first Mentor. Gabriel had hoped that he would have made it. But he'd only been saved for last, likely wrought with despair and depression at having been made to watch the destruction of his family of Assassins. Pinned to the man's forehead with a stiletto, was a single piece of paper, covering his whole face. The paper was clean on both sides, meaning that whoever had killed the man had bled him dry first, so as not to ruin their message.

Gabriel noticed the sign of just that as he rounded the desk slowly. A pool of deep red blood stained the floor under the chair, now dried and crusted on the stone floor after sitting for weeks. Gabriel looked down on the message pinned to his old friend's face.

"Stay hidden in the cracks like the bugs you are. What was found will be done again, should your head break the plane. Your war is lost, now disappear into obscurity." Gabriel read quietly to himself.

At the bottom of the paper was the symbol of the Templar Order stamped large and blatant. A signature, it seemed. They were smart even in their threats. No names to follow, just an idea.

There had to be more. This man had been extremely intelligent. He'd sent for the Osaka Assassin's for help. Surely he would have left some message for them in case of tragedy.

Gabriel stilled his heart and mind. He drew up his training like a blanket around him. He closed his eyes and focused all of his concentration on activating "The Gift". His instructors in Japan had instructed him alone in it's use. This was why he alone had been sent back to America. Because among his peers, Gabriel Winters alone had awakened his Eagle Vision.

Every human being had the gift. Few ever fully unlocked it's potential. Gabriel's sense was far from perfect, but it had served useful in the past.

When he opened his eyes again, the room was shimmering. The walls were a constant wave of gray. The Assassin's flag was shimmering in a bright white, as was the body before him. But what caught Gabriel's attention was the man's right palm. He'd noticed it before hand but didn't make anything of it. There was dried blood in his former Mentor's hand. With his enhanced senses now, the symbol was burning bright in red. It was the Assassin's symbol, traced in blood. But the odd thing about it was that the point was towards the man's thumb, which was in turn tilted toward the flag on the wall.

Gabe crossed the gap and eagerly ripped the flag down. The stone wall was plain. Gray and shimmering...

... save for one spot, that glowed bright white.

Gabriel let go of his senses and returned his vision to normal. The white on the wall was actually a narrow slit, easily mistakable for just some gash in the stone. But Gabriel knew better. He placed his palm flat against the stone and ejected his hidden blade straight into the hole. There was a slight clicking sound and Gabe turned his wrist slightly. Another click.

He pulled the blade back in and placed both hands on the wall, pushing with his considerable might. A section of the wall gave and swung on a massive hinge, revealing a hidden room beyond the office.

This is what Gabe had been searching for. He entered the room and smiled to himself. On the far wall of the hidden room were paintings. More accurately, portraits. They were arrayed in a hierarchy and notes had been pinned to the wall next to them with information. Near the top of the portraits, Gabriel read the names of one "Charles Lee, and Haytham Kenway". Kenway was apparently the Grand Master of this Order of Templars.

Off to the side however, was a branch. A second set of Templars. Gabriel had never seen such a thing. Two sects in the same region, allegedly operating independently of one another. At the top of the second list, was an empty frame with the name scribbled to one side.

"Mr. White." Gabriel read aloud.

He retreated from the room and gently removed the dagger from his mentor's skull. He folded the letter and stuck it in his jacket, then looked down to view the face of the man who had started the journey for him.

He reached down and gently closed the vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. "...Nothing is True. Everything is permitted." Gabe whispered. The words he first remembered from this man. The Assassin's Creed.

"Rest easy now Orville Cunningham. You will be avenged old friend. Thank you for showing me the way. I will see your work done."

With that, Gabriel reached behind Orville and pulled his midnight blue hood up over the dead man's head. The hood covered the knife hole in Orville's skull, making it look as if the older man was simply taking a nap.

Gabriel carried the body of his mentor out to rest with the others, where he found John finishing up.

"The road ahead is dangerous. But I have a direction. I apologize for my earlier mistrust. You are correct, I am going to need help. I have only the money I brought with me from Japan, so we will first need to build funds. I'll need a new base of operations. Since we are starting on a cold trail, we might as well start fresh. I'd like a place out of the eye of society, perhaps in the wilderness. I'll build it myself but the work will require more hands. When it's finished, my work can begin. I hold you under no obligation to help me John, but if you would aid me, I would do what I could to reward you. This is going to take a long time, years perhaps. I would not have you do such with no trust from a man you readily give yours. My real name is Gabriel Winters. Yoru Ken is an alias I use. It means Night Sword. Are you willing to help me?"

The coldness had returned to Gabriel's eyes. He had the cool confidence of a man with direction once more.

John looked at Gabriel, listening but when he said ""the wilderness", John put down the body and sat down, looking like he was almost about to cry. "Umm...yeah, I'll help you, I umm....I know a place we can stay." John said, his voice breaking up, looking down, as shallow breaths came from his mouth. "Umm...follow me, it won't be much and it'll take a while to get to there, but...it will do as a place we can upgrade further and hopefully make a little faster than starting from scratch, if it's...still there." John then clarified, before standing up, looking at Gabriel, with tears in his eyes.

Gabriel noticed the breakdown in John immediately.

Was he supposed to comfort the man? Place a hand on his shoulder and tell him it was alright? Whatever 'it' was? This was Gabriel's failing. He didn't understand human emotions besides peace and anger. Polar opposites which had nothing to do with the extreme middle ground that it seemed John Ambrose occupied.

Perhaps the site where John had in mind had some historical significance to his current mind state. In which case, there would be a lot more work than either had thought on to expunge such pain. But all things came in time.

He nodded to John sympathetically, then straightened his hat and knit his tone with authority that he'd heard his masters use.

"Well then Mister Ambrose, we will need a wagon..."