[closed] Beginning Anew

Alvin Sharpe

Alvin sat somewhat mesmerized at the man before him. The fear drained away, replaced by complete curiosity.

He listened as this man told a seemingly pointless story but came full circle in the end. Alvin's eyebrows were roughly at the level of the canopy of the carriage with which he was imprisoned. On words alone, this man had snatched Alvin's attention utterly and completely. He'd said that Alvin was skilled.

And Alvin believed every word that the man said.

His eyes held wonderment and caution when he spoke.

“Who... are you?” he said airily. “And... you speak to me like you know me. I do have some talents that would be useful to some... but what do you want with me exactly?”

The whole situation mystified Alvin. A moment ago he had been on his way to deaths front door. Now this strange man had apparently hired people to come and spring him from bondage, and wanted his help with... something.

Alvin moved slightly and blinked, coming back to himself at the sound of rattling chains on his wrists and ankles.

She really wanted to help where her skill would be used wisely.... but for now she seemed to be babysitting. She really wasn't the best choice for guard duty.... hiding, yes.... bribing, yes.... finding a trust worthy doctor, yes.... but if strong foes came to take Gipson away, she would be of little use. She wasn't sure if she could get him out alive. Perhaps it was lucky that John was here then.... still....

However, she frowned greatly when Gipson fell ill and passed out. Rushing over to him immediately, she checked his pulse. Good.... he was still alive. She propped him up as best she could, and waved for John to help her.

"As for where Gabriel and Kaya have gone, I'm not sure.... I do not know the details as he and I were not together to hear the same people. I was rescuing the Captain.... please, carry him. I'm not so skilled in the strength department. We need to get him to the doctor quickly. He is not much farther."

Though her heart was racing along with her mind, Felicity kept calm on her appearance. The artifact.... and they were taking his ship. She had to intervene. Which meant she would have to see that Captain Gipson was well taken care of..... tapping her side she felt the pouch that she carried when out. It should be enough to bribe a man for silence along with his services.

Staying silent and leading them less crowed areas, she led John to the doctor. Upon entering, she spoke silently with him for a moment, before offering over the pouch of money. His eyes widened a bit and he grinned, taking the money with him. He had promised her his silence in who his patient was.... stepping aside, she let the doctor move past her and towards John.

"Here.... move the man over here to this cot."

He directed John to a cot in the back room, blocked from windows and a door. He followed as the man was placed on the bed and gave a rather grim smile to John.

"Seems he's seen better days..... I'll do what I can, but for now, leave me to my work."

As John exited the back room, the doctor shut the door and set to working on his patient.

Felicity stood in the shadows, her face covered from her hood, and had her arms crossed as she was leaning against the wall. There was much to do.... and she wasn't sure if she should stay with Gipson or see to his ship. However, if they were already setting to work upon it..... it would be a lot of trouble, and she didn't think she could take care of it herself.... perhaps if Gabriel and Kaya were here.... but drawing attention would be the downfall on this one.... it would be better to wait until night fall. There was no way the ship could be repaired and fixed to Sebastian's expectations and set sail within a night. The darkness would be her cover.... so for now, she would see to Captain Gipson's health. She did not move from her position for the moment, but she sighed.

"For now we need to wait. Captain Gipson is a friend.... and may be helpful.... then we can move him to safety. Not to mention evening will be better....."

She did not say much more for the moment. She was thinking too deeply. Night would be better.... no one would be able to see her, and more than likely it would be the best time to strike as there would be a skeleton crew working.

Black opened his mouth to speak but stopped at the rattling of Sharpe’s shackles. Spreading his arms out he shook his head at the incredulity of the remaining presence of the chains on the former prisoner. He leaned out the door of the carriage, the cold night air greeting his face as he called out to one of the mercenaries.

“Can we please get these chains off him? My goodness, I feel like I’m talking to some exotic monkey from the East!”

One of the Frenchman bent down and rummaged through one of the fallen guards' coat, throwing a ring of keys to Black once he had found them. The keys were soaked in dark red blood and after Jeremiah had bent down, unlocking Sharpe’s bonds and placing the set of keys on the seat beside him, a smear of the dead soldier’s blood remained on his hand. Not bothering to wipe it off, he smiled at the now former-prisoner and proceeded to vaguely respond to his questions.

“My name is Jeremiah, Jeremiah Black. Think of me as an incredibly exotic opportunity - an opportunity for you to reset and do whatever you wish, become whomever you want to become. If the world can be your oyster, I’m the seafood market. However, if I require your assistance in the future I would ask that you at least consider providing it. If that is not to your liking you may leave right now, get on the horse we have for you and ride wherever you wish. Just plan to ride further and faster this time if that’s the path you plan on taking. So, what will it be?"

Black outstretched his bloodied right hand between the two - the figurative signature line to his offer. The choice lay before Alvin, one that could alter the rest of his life: shake Jeremiah's blood-stained hand or leave through the open carriage door.

And that was it. Kaya watched Gabriel disappear through the bushes without a single word from her. "Take care" or " Stay alive", she wanted to say but she hesitated for too long. She didn't have the slightest idea to what they were about to encounter but she had a very odd and strong feeling stir in the pit her stomach.

Kaya drew a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself and her lungs struggled against the harsh smoke that polluted the air around them. She rolled her shoulders a few times to warm up the muscles before she took off as well. The trees rushed passed her and the wind murmured in her ears as her powerful legs thrust her forward. Her eyes flicked up, looking for a low enough branch or foot hold to start climbing up into the canopy.

There. She spotted a low broken branch that would require her to scramble up a few steps before she could grab onto it. She picked up speed to give herself the momentum needed to reach it. Her arms pumped at her sides and she kept her focus aimed onto that branch while her right foot hit the trunk hard. She pushed off her leg brought her opposite foot down on the tree to push off again, her gloved hands up and outstretched to grapple on. Her fingers latched around the branch and she swung still from her left over propelled energy. She swung her legs back and then forward again to kept it going and used it to help her pull her upper half up. The branch kissed her hips as she brought one foot up on top of the branch and it cracked slightly at the new weight. She quickly leapt away and went on to grab the next one up that appeared to be stronger and healthier. The remainder of the broken branch tore away and almost threw her off balance but her hands still found the new branch.

Hauling herself up, she found new foot holds into the bark of the tree to help her scale up. Once she approved that she was high enough that no one could detect her from the ground she began to make her way towards the house, bounding from branch to branch and tree to tree and keeping her force driven forward.

The smoke quickly became thicker with each stride and she felt the heat from the fire rush to meet her. No...no. The forest area surrounding the house grew dark from the smoke clouds blocking out the sunlight and the blaze gave off that eerie orange glow around her. The very same orange glow that devoured her entire village in a single night...

She stopped when reached the clearing and the house engulfed in flame and huge black clouds of smoke but she remained hidden beyond the wall of trees. The heat of the fire washed over her face and she stood up, and leaned against the base of the tree. No...Now where are we supposed to start? We have nothing again...

Then her gaze wandered to the platoon of Redcoats and her heart froze as she counted and crouched down to avoid detection. Too many to take on at once...She was skilled but not invincible.

Gabriel.

She hoped he wasn't foolish enough to take this head on with just the two of them...


Only once had she been successful in using The Sight, as her Clan Mother had called it, and it was years ago when she used it...when she was still in her training with Nehele. It was quiet and she was able to direct her energy and focus into the sixth sense for only a moment. She struggled to pour herself into The Sight to try and pinpoint Gabriel's position but the smoke was suffocating and causing her eyes to water from the harsh heat and soot.
She coughed, struggling to keep her vision clear. She wiped away the forming tears on her sleeve and managed to single out a tall, thin looking man with a sabre hanging at his hip, barking at the rest of the group. He must be the man in charge of this group... She was too far away to understand his words but she watched as the platoon of men moved together and followed his orders.

Hopefully she was hidden enough that no one would see her from the ground but dread flooded through when she caught a rustling of leaves in the tree next to hers. She turned and stared in the direction of the sound, her eyes wildly searching for the source but failing to find it. Several agonizing silent seconds that felt like eternities  ticked by. Then a shot rang out somewhere behind her and hot searing pain cut across her left arm, blood spattering the tree. She was thrown off balance and clutched the trunk to keep from falling. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out, she had a second to look down and notice that the bullet had only grazed her before another shot rang out and another bullet splintered the tree just inches above her head. She ducked away from the small blast and the sudden reaction threw her balance off again. Her boot slipped off of the branch and she was plunged into the air.

She panicked. Her good arm was thrown out and her hand blindly grasped at the branches rushing up past her.  A thick branch caught her fall midway, her chest colliding into it and the remaining oxygen was violently pushed from her lungs. Wheezing, her fingers desperately raked to find a grip but she couldn't recover quick enough and her she slipped off that branch, plummeting to the ground, still at an alarming rate.

She did her best to steel herself for yet another impact, only this time she hit the branch squarely with her bad arm. The injury screamed in protest, sending a fresh surge of burning agony shooting down through her arm to her fingertips. More hot blood seeped from the wound and soaked the sleeve of her coat and she couldn't stop herself this time from letting a strangled hiss escape through her teeth.

She felt her body falling again through the open air for few seconds until her back and head hit the ground, her breath claimed from her once more. She struggled to suck in a rattling breath only to give into a fit of coughing. Her hood was pulled back from the fall and her face stung from possible scratches and scrapes, she assumed.

H-how did they know...? Her eyesight was swimming as she tried to bring into focus the two men, both camouflaged in green and one reloading his musket, still standing in the treetops above her. They must have spotted her first. Dazed minutes passed and she saw him raise his musket to take aim at her. Move.... Move...Move. Her mind was screaming at her but she couldn't bring her body to obey her will. MOVE! Need...to...run. Need....to find...Gabriel... She slowly stumbled to her feet, the third shot fired and dirt was kicked up by the bullet  at her feet.  

She shook her head and watched as the entire Platoon on the ground was also taking aim at her, the tall thin man howling at them. Her eyes shot wide and she scrambled behind a tree, pressing her back against it just before they let off a volley. The sound was deafening as the guns went off all at once spraying the trees with bullets all around her and splintering the timber. The echo of gunshots died down, the men dressed in green attacked from above. They both dropped down one branch at a time while she was distracted by the round of gunfire, and landed on either side of her.

Kaya acted quickly, hurtling herself at one of them and slid beneath his legs, gripping her tomahawk in right hand and whipping it out. She swung her arm and her whole body followed and twisted to land a devastating blow to his knee. The man screamed and crumpled to the ground while Kaya used her left hidden blade to slit his throat, blood spurting from him as he pawed at the wound and choked.

"DAMN YOU, BLOODY NATIVE!" the other cried and he swung the butt of his musket to crack against the back of Kaya's skull. Black spots perforated her vision as she tumbled to the ground next to her kill. She scrambled away from him, the new headache taking attention away from her arm, cradled into her stomach.. He aimed at her skull, finger squeezing the trigger but she threw her leg out and knocked the rifle away from her. It fired and the bullet buried itself into the ground, her left ear ringing from the explosion. She grabbed the end of musket and pushed it forward causing him to lose his balance and stumble backward.

Kaya's head throbbed. She couldn't rely on climbing out of the fight this time. She struggled to her feet and rushed at him, her tomahawk held high over head to come down on his shoulder, cleaving his collar bone in two. He shrieked and she quickly brought down her tomahawk again on his throat to silence him.

The second volley went off and splintering wood was flying around her again. Run.

Kaya half stumbled, half ran with the platoon of Redcoats hot on her tail. Their gun fire was erratic now and she kept pushing forward, praying to the spirits that she was at least putting some distance between her and them. Her lungs were on fire and begged to her stop, her head continued to pound and she could only hear her blood pumping in her ears, muffling the stray gun shots. She clambered over a huge fallen tree and noticed a small, sort of den was dug out underneath it.

She paused for a moment, wondering if it was already occupied but she decided to take the risk.
She squeezed herself through the opening struggled to calm her breathing. She was cramped. She drew her knees into her chest to try and keep herself hidden despite the discomfort. She heard running foot falls approaching her hiding spot and she held her breath. Biting her lip as some dirt found its way into her still open and bleeding wound.

They passed. Kaya wanted to wait to make sure they had truly passed but exhaustion was settling. No...no, I cannot pass out now. She shook her head in futile attempt to fight off the seeping black around the edge of her vision. Gabriel...is he still alive...? What if...? what if.... She couldn't stop the new sudden influx of panic that coursed through her. Please be alive. You cannot be dead. Please be alive. His warm smile and deep blue eyes were the last things on her mind as she quickly slipped into darkness.

Alvin Sharpe

Alvin stared at this man seriously. Anxiety gripped his guts and didn't seem to want to let go. Why was this man offering him such a thing? Run or join?

The want to run was almost overwhelming. This Jeremiah Black had a silver tongue. That was certain. But he also seemed to have an iron spine, to have crossed the British with such wanton abandon that he would spring a prisoner straight from the clutches of captivity and certain death.

So where Alvin wanted nothing more than to take a second chance at escape, it was clear he couldn't protect himself from his former comrades. And after what Sebastian had made him do, he wasn't certain the he even wanted to. The Templars were corrupt in the quest for Order. The Assassins on the other hand were an Order unto themselves filled with killers raised from birth to embrace deathcraft like it was any other trade skill. This Black seemed to be akin to neither party. And he had resources enough to attack a military convoy and survive.

Alvin looked down at the bloody hand before him. He extended his own and clasped Jeremiah firmly

"What would you have me do, Mister Black?"

John did as he told, and lifted Gipson over his shoulder and walking to the local Doctor. While he walked, John began to notice that Gipson seemed extremely familiar to him...it only took him a couple of seconds to realise why. Gipson was passed out, being aided by another person to get to where he needed to be and was most likely fatigued when conscious, the three exact things that happened day by day to John's stepdad when he was extremely drunk. And the fact that he got reminded of his stepfather when someone was either drunk or looked drunk made John began to wonder...exactly how far had the events in John's life shaped him? The one thing John did know was that it had made him into a man who was always going to be the outcast who would hide his pain with a facade of insanity, when in truth, while he wasn't exactly sane, he wasn't as insane as he made himself out to be. However, if you asked John what made him this way, he would say that his stepfather was at the top of his list. However, in all honesty, John had been letting his stepfather and his past haunt him for the last 11 years of his life...why? John knew why, the reason why John led the life he led for 10 years that he hated wasn't because he had no other options, no no, he had plenty of other options. The reason why John led that life was because it was the only life that you could lead while letting your past haunt you. The reason why John wanted a life like that was because he just...wasn't ready to face his past. And one thing he did believe was that very few people if any would understand that.

After John had put Gipson on the bed and exited the room, John noticed that Felicity was standing in the darkest corner of it. This was either a force of habit or it was so she can't be bothered John sighed and stood there, his hands in his pockets, silently staring at the floor before Felicity spoke up. John sadly smirked before looking up, deciding to give Felicity a bit of advice, as due to his self loathing John didn't want to see people acting how he would act. "Felicity, take my advice, I stood in the darkness for over 11 years in taverns like that. Trying not to be noticed by others. And you don't want to see how exactly it's left me, don't assume it's what you see either from me either. I don't show all of what I am. Anyway, so tell me, what happened when you parted ways with me and Gabe?" John advised and asked her, also gesturing slightly with his hands when he told her about what standing in the dark does to you, as a way of saying that she should come out of the dark. John however didn't really want to wait around. The fact that Gabe had quickly snatched Kaya and rode off seemed quite odd to John. He didn't know why Gabe had done that or why he didn't just ask John to follow him, but one thing was for sure...John had a very very bad feeling as to why.

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Kaya slowly woke with the sensation of something wet slurping against her cheek.  Her eyes fluttered open and a cold wet nose pressed against hers. Surprised, she blinked a few times to bring her vision into focus and saw a dim outline of small furry creature sitting on her chest. She quickly sat up and immediately regretted it. Her head exploded with a throbbing ache behind her skull. How long was I unconscious...? Felicity.  John.

Gabriel.

She moved to climb out of the den but her muscles objected from staying in a cramped position for so long. The tiny ball of fur in her lap whined and licked the wound on her left arm. Kaya hissed and grabbed the scruff of its neck to pull it away. Surprised, it yelped and her eyes adjusted to the dark to make out the shape of a small wolf cub.  

Kaya froze...wolf cub meant wolf mother somewhere close by. She stayed stock still for several minutes until the pup whined to be put down. Once Kaya was sure that the pup's mother wasn't around to protect him, she slowly relaxed and set him back down. He shook himself and crawled out of the den. She slowly followed him, her muscles groaning as she stretched herself out.
Every fiber in her body hurt and she was thankful that night had fallen so she wouldn't have to face the harsh sunlight . Instead the moon cast a soft cool glow around her and gave her enough light to be able navigate the forest. The tiny black pup sat on his hind legs at her feet and whined up at her, golden eyes twinkling. She smiled at him and knelt down to gently scratch the top of his head. "Are you all alone too, little one...?"

He cocked his head to the side and sniffed her hand curiously when she pulled away. He trotted away a few feet and turned back to give her a little yip before he started off again. "Am I supposed to follow you...?" She was hesitant at first. She wanted to immediately return to the house--or at least what was left of it-- to find any clues that she could use to track down Gabriel whereabouts. The sharp throb in her arm, however, advised her otherwise. Through gritted teeth, she carefully examined the wound through her torn, blood soaked sleeve. I should probably take care of this before moving forward...I am of no use to anyone if I am dead from an infection.

The wolf pup barked at her once more this time he was further up ahead. Kaya looked up at him and sighed. What a mess this turned out to be... She shuffled slowly towards the ball of fur and his tail gave a tiny wag. She followed him for a ways, though she couldn't determine what direction they were headed in. Her head continued to pound and it made it very difficult for her to concentrate. If any straggling Regulars found her, she would be in serious trouble.

She squinted her eyes through the pain and pressed onward, struggling to keep the pup's outline in focus. Though it seem like an eternity  to her, he eventually planted his rump down beside a babbling stream. It took her a while to catch up to him and she knelt by him, breathing heavily. The pup whined again, and shoved his snout under her arm. She gave him an weary smile. "Niá:wen, little one," she croaked in soft and tired voice.

After taking few moments to rest, she carefully rose to her feet  and checked around her immediate area for any sign of danger or threats. Once she was convinced she was somewhat safe, she began to very slow disarm beginning with her hidden blades. Every movement, no matter how small or slow, sent new waves of pain through her body. A tiny bit disappointed in herself, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. How embarrassing. Bested by tree and two men... She scoffed, making a note to take her humiliation and chagrin out on the next Templar or Redcoat she came across. Spirits have mercy on their souls...

She successfully managed to get all of her equipment off and laid them all down gently on the ground beside one another. She also noted her tomahawk would need to be rinsed free from the blood that had dried on its blade. She groaned while she shrugged off her coat, leaving her top half in a simple dark sleeveless shirt and her bindings underneath. She shivered when the cool night air washed over and raised goose bumps on her deep copper skin. She hated feeling exposed like this. She desperately wanted to work quickly but fought against the urge when she lifted her shirt and inspected the huge purple and blue splotches over her side, rib cage and stomach. That is not as bad as I thought it was going to be.

She turned her attention to the wound on her arm. She sat down close by the water's edge, crossing her legs. She took a deep breath and with her opposite hand, scooped up some of the stream's cold water and carefully started washing away the dirt and dried blood. The wound stung at first, but soon the cold water started to become pleasant. This will probably need stitching when I arrive back into town to find John and Felicity...

The wolf cub was busy probing his nose through Kaya's things, and he lingered over the small leather pouch that was still attached to her belt. He pawed at it and tried chew through the material. Kaya, hearing the soft clinking of her belt being disturbed, turned towards him. "Hey!" she called and he quickly shrank away from the pouch, his ears back and tail curled under him.

He looked up at her rather pathetically and whimpered.

"What?"

He just stared at her.

"Are you hungry...?" I wonder when was the last time he has eaten...his mother is nowhere in sight. She paused, thinking. "Alright, fine...I was saving that for others but it most likely is not edible for humans anymore. I am sure your stomach is much stronger than ours." After finishing up with cleaning her arm, she reached over and untied the pouch from her belt. The pup ears perked up and he approached her, shoving his nose against the sack. "Here." She took out the food that she had saved earlier that day in the palm of her hand and saw that it was still mostly intact...just a little smashed from her fall.

He gobbled it up quickly and licked his chops  when he finished, sniffing her hand and the pouch for more. "No more. You ate it all...see?" she laughed as she turned the pouch inside out to show him that it was empty. He huffed and kept sniffing her things, refusing to believe her.

Kaya got to her feet again, muscles still aching, and decided she wanted get back to the house to check for tracks. She scowled at her coat, now with a tear and a blood soaked sleeve, and sighed. She donned it on and one by one reequipped her weapons, leaving her tomahawk for last. She knelt by the water again and dipped the blade into the water, carefully using her fingers to rub and scrape off the blood.  When she finished she hung it back in place on her belt.

"Okay. I hope I can find something useful..." Doing her best to ignore the pounding headache, she began to make her way back towards the house at a steady pace. The wolf pup trotted along beside her, tongue lolling and ears erect.

They found the clearing quickly, and she crouched low in the brushes to wait and see there was any sign of movement. The pup almost walked straight out into the open and Kaya quickly scooped him up in her hands to stop him. "Wait." She whispered to him, eyes still searching for outlines of humans. Though it was dimly light by moonlight, she saw the black rubble of what used to be house still smoking but the clouds weren't as big as before. The pup squirmed in her grip and when Kaya thought enough time had passed that she was able to scan the clearing for Redcoats, she released him.

They both wandered out of the bushes and Kaya's gaze skillfully investigated the ground. Blood. Kaya grew anxious. Gabriel's or theirs? Both? There was no way to truly tell.

Wait. There. Kaya picked out the pattern of a body being dragged by two pairs of footprints. She crouched low over the tracks, trying to get a closer look. The dragging stopped just before another pair of footprints. Then fourth pair of prints appeared and these two pairs closed in on one another but one of them, she could tell was off balance. Whoever these prints belonged to, they were injured. Kaya's mouth went dry  when she came across more dark blood that stained the dirt.

Then something glinted and caught her attention in the moonlight. She rushed over and her hand found a long piece of steel that almost looked like....

Then she saw it and her stomach dropped.  The hilt with a broken off blade...she pressed the two pieces together at the origin of the break. "Reaper..."

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The city of New York lay sprawled out before him like a gargantuan board game. The lacklustre buildings and muddied streets served as the staging grounds, the playing area for the great game that was set to commence. It was morning and the city was full of life: people went about the streets going about their business, horse-drawn carts transported goods to and from the harbour, and British Regulars patrolled the street, alert for any signs of disturbance. Each was a piece on the board. Some were merely pawns, insignificant pieces that could be sacrificed and were a means to an end, and there were those that held greater value and could alter the board entirely. But despite their numerous amount and apparent expandability, a single pawn could decide the fate of the game. His thoughts went to Alvin Sharpe, a simple soldier who had been used to accomplish menial tasks which had almost cost him his life. But he wasn’t dead. Instead of a pawn he was now a card up the sleeve, something unexpected and unaccounted for that could change everything.

Jeremiah Black looked out over New York from the window of his hotel room on the third floor of the York Inn, one of the more prominent establishments in the city. While he had been surveying layout of the city and its inhabitants a good deal of his attention was put towards the port, which he knew to be overseen by Sebastian Elsebert. Black corrected his thoughts: it had been overseen by Sebastian for quite some time - but that would soon change. John Potter was in the unique position to fill the role of harbourmaster should its current occupant be unable to do so. Black happened to well acquainted with Mr. Potter, someone who he had frequently dealings with when he had sailed on Poseidon’s Fortune as a sailor and merchant for a good number of years. Jeremiah closed his eyes for a moment as the memory of simpler times on the sea recalled the slight taste of the salty ocean air to his tongue. He only allowed himself to be lost in the memory for a brief moment, opening his eyes to see his scarred face faintly reflected in the window. There’s work to be done.

Black turned his back to the city and towards the room he had only briefly occupied since that very morning. Being one of the upscale inns in New York the room was equipped with all the amenities he was used to when visiting cities abroad: a four-poster bed, expensive carpet, ornate wallpaper, and a host of other luxurious. Some would never allow themselves such accommodations, something that might be seen to weaken them and let down their guard. Black had seen little reason in this himself, having spent much of his life at sea in the uncomfortable quarters of a merchant ship, and made sure to enjoy and appreciate the finer things in life.

Exiting the room he saw the leader of the band of French mercenaries, who he’d come to know as Jacque, seated in a chair at the end of the hallway. He appeared to be sleeping, but Black knew better. His other two compatriots were downstairs on the first floor filling their stomachs after the long journey as well as keeping an eye out for any trouble. The three only spoke when was necessary to Black, preferring to keep to themselves and speak in their native tongue. He had picked up a fair amount of French on his travels himself, but he kept that fact to himself.

He and Sharpe had not spoken much more during the final leg to New York, instead opting to rest for the remainder of the journey. The former redcoat currently resided in the room next to Black’s. The luxury and quality of the accommodations was something he was sure the man wasn’t used to nor could normally afford for too long. Jacque’s head adjusted slightly as Black knocked on Sharpe’s door before entering to see how the man was settling in. It's time I answered the rest of his questions, as truthfully as I'm able, and ask a few of my own. Besides which, it's time we started to get to work in New York and get acquainted with whatever assassins are left here.

Gabriel Winters

The darkness came and went, thrusting Gabriel in and out of a world filled with pain. The only thing he could recall was the pain. No idea where he was, no inclination as to whether he was dead or if he yet still lived. Instead of coherent thought, Gabe was recalling memories of similar pain.

Osaka, Japan - 1758

"Faster! You must be faster!" Master Tanaka called from his chair. Why did he never leave the chair? Ten year old Gabriel wondered. He always seemed to be sitting when he demanded the initiates to move.

They had been doing laps around the compound, to build stamina, the others had said. But instead of building anything, young Gabriel felt like he was going to die. His chest was on fire and he couldn't breath. Why was this old man demanding they go faster? He and three others had been the first to finish, minutes before the rest of the group. It wasn't fair to keep pushing the exercise leaders to exhaustion when they were doing the best.

"Master, I'm tired!" One of the others complained.

Tanaka's face remained impassive. But he stood and quickly and crossed the distance to the initiate, quickly backhanding him across the face and dropping the boy to the ground. Immediately the boy started crying. What had he done wrong? Gabriel wondered. Tears welled up inside him as well. What had any of them done to deserve this fate? Where was Orville? Why had he left Gabriel here to fend for himself among these strangers years ago?

But Gabe kept his tears in check. To cry was to be weak. To be weak meant to invite death. That is what the Masters had said.

"You, do not get food today for your weakness child." Tanaka said without remorse, before walking back to his chair overlooking the courtyard. "Perhaps hunger will teach the lesson that words cannot. Complaint is rewarded with pain. Your enemies will not care if you complain. They will just kill you."

Gabriel hated Tanaka. The man professed that he loved all of them, as they were all a part of his family now. A family of dozens of Assassins. But Gabe only saw cruelty to the young members of this new family. So far, he himself had been able to avoid Tanaka's wrath by using the others as an example of what not to do. But he wondered how long that would last.

His heart continued to pound and his lungs burned. But Gabriel let out not a peep of his own pain or discomfort. He would go faster, push harder.

Because he was hungry and wanted his meals.

The second group of initiates to finish their run finally broke through the courtyard, pushing each other physically to try and be the first one of their group to cross the line.

Bringing up the rear was the newest addition to the family. A young, frail looking boy. He crossed the threshold last, and hit the ground on hands and knees, huffing and puffing.

Tanaka spoke to them all briefly before they were dismissed. No one moved to help the young boy. Gabriel looked around and saw that no one was watching, so he went to the boys side and offered a hand.

"What is your name?" he asked.

The boy looked up and gratefully took the hand. He was one of the native children to Japan, not a foreigner like Gabriel and a few others.

"I am Hakamichi Tsume. Thank you."

Gabriel offered no smile, he offered no recognition. He simply helped the younger boy to his feet in silent. "How old are you?" he asked.

Tsume hesitated briefly. "... Six...."

"Take my advice, Tsume. Get stronger. You wont last long if you don't." And with that, Gabriel walked away.

Present

His eyes fluttered open, a groan almost escaped his lips but he held it back. It wouldn't help him. Darkness still clouded his vision, but he quickly realized it was his own hair. The smell of straw filled his nostrils and there was a poking sensation on his face. He was face down on a small bale of hay.

He tried to push himself to his knees and gasped as his chest lit fire with pain.

Not dead then, he thought.

Though he had been severely wounded. It was going to be some time before he recovered, and it wasn't going to happen face down on the floor.

Instead of using his arms, he rolled sideways to his back. The simple act left his breathless. But from his back, he was able to make out some of his surroundings.

Brick walls on three sides, and an iron barred door on the front. The room was small, claustrophobic even.

No, not a room.

Gabriel was in a jail cell.

Patience was the key here.... they had to keep an eye on this man. She was not sure what he held.... but he knew something. Out of habit, the woman tapped her robes where she had hidden the little book that Sebastian had held so dear...... good, it was still there. Perhaps it really was paranoia.... she hadn't let it leave her body since she had gotten her hands on it. Still.....

Though, when John spoke again, she cocked her head to the side slightly, giving him a confused stare. Not that he would be able to tell her emotions from beneath her hood. Did this man claim to understand the assassins so well yet not know much about them. Granted, she was used to hiding in plain sight.... but when times called for it, the shadows were your friend as well.

".... at this point in time, I really do not want to be noticed by others.... standing in the line of a window where people can see me is not a bright idea with the events that have taken place today..... I would rather not receive a bullet for my troubles... or a dagger for that matter.... I do not hide to run away from who I am..... I hide to conceal my presence for my mission and for the protection of the good captain in there. I do not want him to be found again by them....."

She paused for a moment, wondering how much she should tell John. Though he may be aiding them, he was not an assassin.... they needed to keep their information from finding its way to too many outside sources. Though she had to give the man some kind of answer....

"I followed the dock master, Sebastian, and gathered all the information I could on him. Then today, he was taking his frustration out on Captain Gipson.... when Sebastian ordered Gipson to be dealt with, I followed them and Gabriel followed Sebastian..... I rescued him, and I'm not sure what new information Gabriel had.... though I would like to follow, I have pressing matters here as well...."

Now with the boat.... perhaps she could find some kind of clue that was still on board.... her mind was racing with all possibilities.... what artifact could it be.... perhaps Gipson could give her more answers.... when he was feeling better. Then again, she wasn't quite sure he would trust her with that information if he did know anything. She cast her gaze to the door, hoping the man would live through this.... not just for the information.

As several hours seemed to pass, the doctor finally emerged from the back room as it was falling to evening. His apron was blood splattered, but he seemed rather pleased with himself. He gave a nod to them as he was wiping his hands dry.

"He'll live..... though he will only be using one eye from now on...... needs rest though..... he will be out for awhile still."

The man didn't say much more, but moved over to his desk and took a seat, pouring a drink for himself into a glass. He mumbled something to himself as he threw back a rather large gulp of the liquid. Felicity watched him for a moment before standing and moving towards the door.

"You need to look after him John..... there is something I need to do...."

With that, she stepped from the building and out of sight with ease.

Kaya's palms seemed to vibrate with energy the longer she held what was left of Gabriel's blade in her hands. Even through her gloves it felt like it was almost alive and possessed some sort of spiritual energy. It ripped Kaya apart seeing it in such a pitiful state and separated from its owner. Dead or Captured....? I suppose we will need to do some reconnaissance to figure that out.

She carefully placed what was left of Reaper in her quiver. She knew it wasn't a proper sheath for a once majestic blade but it would have to do for now.

I cannot approach this alone. I have to navigate my way back towards the city and find the others... She let out a deep sigh, not particularly ecstatic about having to leave the comfort of the forest for the stares, noise and stench of the town. Not to mention the Redcoats... but she couldn't waste any time.

Gabriel was either already dead, or imprisoned and spirits only knew how long they would keep him alive if he was captured. She had a feeling they would most likely let him breathe long enough to extract information on the remaining Assassins in New York. That meant torture to gain what they wanted. She shivered knowing Gabriel wouldn't give anything away but that meant enduring whatever obscene torment they had planned for him...

Something crashed into her ankles, pulling her away from her thoughts. She looked down to see the tiny ball of fur that was still following her . She sighed again, not wanting the responsibility of looking after a life in the middle of a time of conflict and bloodshed but he could prove to be useful. Plus she couldn't live with herself if she just left him out here without him learning the skills to survive.

With one hand on her hip, she bent down and grabbed the scruff of his neck to pull him up so that his nose was inches from hers. His ears were laid back flat and his tail was tucked between his legs. "You are not going to stop following me now, are you...?" He whined softly once, his body curled up and very still. She scowled, but couldn't help but crack a smile when his tiny pink tongue swiped her nose. "Fine. But you must learn to be obedient without question or without hesitation. Follow my instructions and you just might live." She spoke her Mentor's words using the exact same hard tone that he used when he uttered those words to her the night she accepted his offer to train her.

He was small enough that she dropped him into the leather pouch at her hip with his head poking out. I better not regret this... He squirmed for moment before settling comfortably. She followed the dirt path that led away from the charred and blackened remains of the house without looking back. A huge surge of puzzlement struck her when she found that Gabriel's horse was also missing. Maybe he managed to escape...?

The grim answer lay in the dirt. Several hoof and foot prints, no more than a day old, that interweaved one another led her to believe that he had indeed been taken hostage...and they took his steed along with them. "I guess we are traveling on foot then..." Annoyed and anxious to find Felicity and John, she began her journey back towards New York at a light jog. Her screaming headache protested but she ignored as best she could, she didn't want to squander what little time she felt she had...

Alvin Sharpe

Never, had Alvin ever been accommodated in such a lavish setting. The best hotel in New York? He’d been used to sleeping on the ground or in a dirty bunk most of his adult life thus far. He had never imagined even setting foot in a place like this, much less actually sleep here. The bed had had so many feathers that at first, Alvin had suspected treachery, having sunk in so far. He’d struggled to get out of the bed after that, but eventually after some trial and error he had gotten used to the feel.

His leg was throbbing something awful today. Had Gabriel really needed to throw that blade? Didn’t he have some rope or something that he could have used to lasso? Assassins were supposed to be resourceful, instead a naked man had thrown a knife at him from a distance of no less than fifteen feet and had had pinpoint accuracy.

Or had he? Had Gabriel been aiming for his calf?

He shrugged to himself, rubbing the stiffness from his leg. He’d likely never have the opportunity to ask now.

As he looked himself over, Alvin realized he was still in the dirty clothes that he had tried escaping with. He would need to get new clothing soon, but had had his money taken from him upon capture. Still probably dispersed through the corpses of his captors or looted by those mercenaries who had been with Black.

Jeremiah Black didn’t seem like the kind of man who went wanting. But Alvin was also not the kind of man who asked for money from strangers, which, regardless of the fact that he’d saved him, Black still was.

There was a knock on the door, startling Sharpe from his thoughts. It could only be one person, no one else knew where he was.

“Come in please!” he called to Black.

Now they would see what was to become of him. Hopefully now Jeremiah would give his intentions and explain more thoroughly how Alvin could help.


-------------------------------------

Gabriel Winters

Gabriel awoke to pain. How long had he been sleeping? It was nearly impossible to tell. All he knew was that he had fresh bandages around his torso and thigh, which were mostly covered by the drab tan prison rags he had been left to wear.

Thus far he had had one meal brought to him. Fresh bread and a tin cup of water. The water tasted fresh as well. Far better treatment than most prisoners received, he was sure. Why were they keeping him healthy?

He tried not to grunt as he painfully pulled himself to a sitting position. His cell was quiet. His block, was quiet. If that was where he was. He could see walkways around other empty cells. Presumably he was on the second floor, or higher given the large gap in the center of the walkways. The cell had no window to speak of so he would not be able to get his bearings. Gideon’s doing no doubt. Than man was a dangerous one. Smart, and capable.

Gabriel tried to stand and had to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming. His leg gave out and sent him crashing to the floor in a flash of white hot pain….


Osaka Japan – 1760

Twelve year old Gabriel hit the wooden floor hard. He hadn’t been prepared for the move that had dropped him. His opponent had pulled him off balance and delivered a sharp kick to his thigh as he passed, deadening the feeling in his leg after initial impact and sent him skidding to his face on polished wood.

His leg hurt. His face hurt. He wanted to cry. But he looked up and saw Master Tanaka’s stony gaze upon him, watching for Gabriel’s reaction to pain. If he cried, he would be punished. If he made a sound, he would be punished. So he did nothing, gave no sound or indication that he was hurt. Young Gabriel pushed himself to his feet, testing his leg and balance instead.

Tanaka’s eyes narrowed and his chin raised slightly in approval. And Gabriel noticed. But so did his opponent.

Rage lit the eyes of Matsumoto Takashi. Gabriel had never really understood why the Japanese gave their last names first and their first names last, but it wasn’t his culture to question. Takashi was everything that Gabriel was. He was fast, he was thorough. A rising star in the family. Which is why they were always matched together in sparring sessions. You didn’t get stronger by facing someone weaker than you. You became stronger by being challenged.

Takashi was a challenge for Gabriel in more ways than one…

The young initiate came in hard and fast, anger filling his every move. First a leg sweep that Gabriel easily lifted his foot to avoid, rocking back on his rear leg. Then Takashi was on his feet again, swinging up with his momentum to deliver a solid kick right to his stomach, forcing the wind from Gabriel’s lungs.

As he doubled over, Takashi rolled back to back with Gabe and slid his right arm around Gabe’s neck in a headlock. In ten seconds, Gabriel would be drooling on the floor.

“…is that all you’ve got… Gaijin…?” Takashi whispered in his ear.

Icy rage slid through Gabe’s veins. He hated that word. He hated the discrimination that some of the others showed him, especially Takashi. He could not help where he was from, or that his skin and face looked different from theirs. Only his younger friend Tsume seemed to take no notice of it most days.

Darkness began to close around Gabriel’s vision as he struggled. Was that all he had?

Gabe gritted his teeth and struggled for air. “…No… it isn’t…” he whispered back.

He pulled himself up straight, further tightening Takashi’s grip on his neck. Takashi was taken off guard, doing what Gabe just had would be painful and seemingly only help his opponent win faster. But as Takashi came bumping body to body with Gabriel, the young initiate threw a sharp elbow into his stomach.

Takashi’s grip loosened and blood rushed back into Gabe’s brain, bringing his vision back to normal. Gabriel took advantage of Takashi being off balance and out of breath. Both hands went up and grabbed the back of Takashi’s head. Then he shifted one leg between Takashi’s for balance and wrenched down as he pitched forward.

Matsumoto Takashi’s world went spinning end over end as he was tossed over Gabriel’s shoulder and to the floor.

Not releasing the boy’s head, Gabriel quickly slapped his opponent in the forehead with his palm, combing his hair back and lifting his chin forcefully. As he was trained, Gabe slid his left arm through the opening under Takashi’s chin and locked his hand with his opposing forearm, then pushed Takashi’s head back down, forcing him into crux of Gabriel’s elbow. As soon as the choke was complete, Gabriel pushed his bare feet against the wood floor and pulled Takashi backwards onto him. When his back was on the floor, Gabe wrapped his legs around his opponent’s stomach and locked his heels.

There would be no escape. No one would best this Gaijin in grappling…

Takashi struggled and pushed and thrashed. But soon enough, he was unconscious. Gabriel lowered Takashi’s head to the floor and stood shakily. His leg still throbbing some. He glanced over at the other initiates lining the edge of the room on their knees, finding Tsume and was immediately rewarded with a grin that was all teeth. An initiate beside Tsume elbowed him subtly and the grin vanished.

Gabe turned to stand straight, looking at Master Tanaka, breathing heavy, heart pounding, but victorious. He placed his fist into his straightened palm and bowed to his Master in respect…

Present

Gabriel Winters raised his head from the floor with an inaudible sigh. Slowly, he pushed himself to a kneeling position. It hurt, but he was able to tuck his feet beneath him and settle in.

He closed his eyes and meditated on healing. Not that it would speed his recovery along.

But it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do…

The door to Sharpe’s room swung open and Black strode in, grinning and quickly taking survey of the room. It was almost, if not completely, identical to his own save for the position of the bed and the colour of the curtains. Alvin stood at the centre of the room still clothed in the attire he had worn during his short duration as a prisoner, the dirty clothes markably out of place in the well furnished space. Black noted the limp in Sharpe’s leg as he turned to greet him.

“You know Alvin, despite really being able to pull of the whole 'I-was-just-on-my-way-to-be-executed' look, I think it would probably be best if you cleaned yourself up a bit before we head out. There’s a few changes of clothes in the drawers there and a bath that’s being drawn in the next room.” Jeremiah looked to both the drawer and the door on the other side of the room, which led to a connecting bathroom, while he spoke.

“Now before you start tearing off your clothes I’d like to have a chat. Like yourself I also have questions that are in need of answering, so we may as well lay our cards out and set things straight before we proceed any further with this partnership of ours.”

Black gestured to two of the cushioned chairs that occupied the room, pulling one out for himself before sitting back in it and making himself comfortable.

Despite their rescue of him, the promises Black had made, and his current lodgings, he knew Alvin Sharpe was still cautious of him and his motives. He had guessed it was those same reasons that provided the source of Sharpe’s trepidation, something he hoped to lessen by answering whatever questions he could. If he was to include this man in his operations and dealings he would need to insure not only that he could be trusted but that he would trust Black in return.

“I suppose I will start things off then - you probably want to know what it is I have planned for you. Despite your history as a soldier and potential to continue developing such skills, I have something much more discreet in mind. Your being a redcoat also put you in the unique position to have access to garrisons and forts here in America, locations which store a multitude of supplies, weapons, and gunpowder. One such fort exists here in New York - Fort George. I'm going need you to get us in there in the near future."

Alvin Sharpe

Alvin was grateful. A bath and fresh clothing. He was actually going to owe Jeremiah something after all of this.

He sat down in the chair opposite of Black and listened to him talk.

"Fort George... yes they have quite a surplus of supplies and weapons. I admit, the prospect of taking from the people who took from me sounds lovely. Getting in wont be a problem really, getting back out with supplies is quite something different altogether. Not to mention that while most men wouldn't recognize my face, there are some there who might, Officers and the like."

He trailed off, thinking about logistics and possible avenues.

It didn't seem to surprise him until well after the thought process was underway that he was planning to infiltrate and liberate supplies from his former employers. Maybe even end up on the wrong side of a musket. But, what was life without risk, right?

Had he really just thought that? Was merely being in the presence of Jeremiah Black enough to cure him of a fear of death?

Maybe so.

"I know how to get in, but the movement of supplies in and out of the Fort will be extremely difficult. Transfer papers will be needed, they are checked quite stringently I'm afraid. And we will need uniforms of course. No one is going to just let us walk in. Unless of course you have some connection to the British Army that allows you to undertake dealings with them. And if that be the case then they will very likely frown upon you liberating their supplies. Might make future dealings...rather strained..."

Black listened to Alvin intently, inquisitively tilting his head to the side as the former soldier began to go through what stealing from the Fort might entail. Almost instantly he could see the gears begin to turn in the man’s head without pondering what it was he had been asked to do for a single second. Sharpe paused for a moment and his eyes focused, his mind seeming to concentrate and process the task at hand. A smile played at Black’s lips when Alvin began to speak again and further detailed what might be involved in entering Fort George and attaining the supplies. Again Sharpe trailed off and, when a moment had passed and it had become clear he had said his piece for the time being, Black nodded in satisfaction.

“Good. Very good. We’ll discuss the details and planning at a later time, right now you need to get yourself cleaned up. We have an appointment at the port this evening and I don’t intend to be late. When you’re ready, I’ll be downstairs.”

Black got up from his seat and straightened his jacket. Looking beyond Alvin out the window he could see the sky was beginning to darken. The window faced east towards the port and the sun, slowly sinking towards the horizon in the west, cast increasingly long shadows across the land. The meaning wasn’t lost on him, the city of New York slowly being drenched in shadows and darkness as they prepared to set about their work. Giving his new associate a curt nod and a smile, Black excused himself and retreated to his room.

In the short time it had taken him to reach his room, the cityscape seemed to have grown even darker. Beyond the port the horizon to the east seemed to be sucking away the last light of day. How very symbolic, indeed. Jeremiah found himself lost in the moment, his ever-present grin nowhere to be found as he gazed at the expanding blackness. Looking back at his faint reflection in the glass, his eyes reflected the darkened horizon. Jeremiah took a deep breath of the cool air emanating from the window and cleared his mind, absentmindedly checking that his flintlock pistols and daggers were where they were supposed to be.

Jacque was where he had left him when he reentered into the lamplit hallway, even Black might have been fooled into thinking the man had dozed off if he hadn’t already been well acquainted with the mercenary’s work and reputation.

“When he’s ready give him a flintlock pistol, some knives, and a longer blade if you have one in your possession. I’ll be downstairs with the others.”

With that he turned his back to Jacque and walked down the hall before making his way down the sturdy flights of stairs to the main lobby and dining area. Despite being of a higher class than most eateries in the city the two other French mercenaries, René and Matthieu, seemed to have started some sort of game of cards that had grown to be quite lively with other patrons of the dining area. Black studied the others who had joined them spotting a couple of the city’s wealthier merchants, a man who worked in the governor’s office, and a few who he did not yet know. He’d be quite familiar with them by the time Sharpe was ready to go. Putting on a grin, Black approached the group of laughing men and joined them in their game of cards.

Alvin Sharpe

The bath did wonders for Alvin’s spirit. Not scalding hot, but not lukewarm either. The heat of the water soothed his aching leg and washed him clean of more than the simple dirt. He felt pounds of stress shuck from his shoulders. This was a life he could get used to. Luxury was drastically underrated.

But at the back of his mind, the little voice in his head kept asking, what is the price for it all?

He pondered this as he scrubbed his flesh pink with the bar of soap that had been provided on a bath side table. He would be putting his life on the line for Black to get what he wanted. But, he had put his life on the line for the Crown every day of his career, and gotten paid with barely enough to keep himself fed. So how was this going to be any different? The real difference was that he was being treated like royalty.

Or as near to it as Alvin Sharpe was ever likely to get.

Sharpe carefully cleaned the hole in his leg where Gabriel had planted that blasted knife, then grabbed a mirror and a straight razor from the side table and gave himself a shave as well. It didn’t take long but he was thankful for the time to do it. In the wilderness, survival was paramount, not shaving stubble from your chin.

He looked himself over in the little mirror hooked to the table and nodded to himself. His blue eyes noticing with satisfaction that there wasn’t a single cut on his neck from the razor. After he dunked his head in the water and gave his hair a good scrub, he stood and toweled himself off. Once he was dry he went back to the bedroom and looked through the wardrobe.

Honestly, it was as if Jeremiah Black had spared no expense for his comfort. Fresh clothes that were tailored to his size, loose but comfortable. A pair of beige trousers, a clean white cotton shirt and a silken ash colored vest. There was even a medium length brown coat and a pair of brand new knee-high tanned leather boots.

The simple idea of treatment like an equal almost made Alvin break down. He would repay this man. No matter the cost. He would be useful to Jeremiah Black. Because Black took care of his people by the looks of things.

He quickly re-dressed his leg with a fresh bandage and pulled on his new clothes, reveling in the feel of the soft new sensation they brought, then exited the room and nearly ran headlong into one of the mercenaries that had been working for Jeremiah the night prior. The man handed a bundle of gear to Alvin without much of a greeting.

Alvin looked down at the bundle. A simple saber wrapped in the leather belting of a holster which held a standard flintlock pistol. In a separate belt, there was a couple of daggers and a skinning knife.

It made sense, he thought quickly. Their line of work was likely going to put them in harm’s way sooner rather than later. It was a good idea to be armed. He removed the sword though and gave it right back to the man, holding it between his thumb and forefinger by the hand guard.

“You can have that back, sir. I’ve never been much good with one. Army trained me to use it but, it never really took. Gets in the way of my work, to tell it true. Prefer pistols and rifles personally. But thank you. This will suffice for now.”

Alvin nodded his thanks to the stoically silent man and strapped his new weapons and pistol under his coat.

He finally made it downstairs with his escort right up to Black, who was still apparently at a game of cards with a few rough looking fellows.

“Mr. Black.” he announced, “I am ready for whatever adventure awaits us.”

Sharpe was still walking with a bit of a limp, and he doubted it was going to get better soon, if at all. But it wasn’t going to slow him down too much. Adapt or die.

That was the life of a scout.

When John asked the question, he leaned on the wall, folding his arms, his head facing downwards and towards the general direction of Felicity's voice. When she spoke again, and pointed out that a person at the window could shoot her if she was in plain sight, John sighed before his eyes darted up staring at where her voice came from, his head not moving even an inch. She seemed to have not actually understood what he meant, which...actually kind of disappointed him. However, John remembered that Felicity had had a very wealthy and regal life...a life that John himself would of ripped a limb off for. She hadn't had the kind of life John had, she hadn't lost the things that he had. She probably would almost never understand, which was why he just let her go instead of trying to get her to understand what he meant. John was kind of annoyed that he was getting all of the crappy jobs, which to be honest was something John understood. But John didn't need to be a scientist to know that there was much quicker ways of training him, if this was how he would be trained. John, having nothing to do decided to just say what he wanted to say to Felicity when he was alone. "Oh what you don't realize Felicity...is that being alone and keeping yourself in the dark all the time...is something that made me who I am..." John said, looking up at the ceiling, before he frowned slightly, deep in his mind. "Wait a minute...I'm talking." John thought outloud, before getting off the wall and stepping outside the door, wanting to be alone to think about his sudden thought..."I'm talking, outloud, to myself. I'm...using a form of communication...that is meant to be used to talk to other people, to talk to myself...why?" John wondered to himself. "Why do we sometimes talk outloud...when...when we know we're alone?" John asked himself, his eyes narrowing, his hand on his chin, which was common for him when he began to think. "For company? No no...our minds are good enough for that...it has to be...something different entirely. But what? What could it be...? Why do we talk outloud when we know we're alone?" John repeated. Now John didn't know what exactly this theory was, hell he didn't even know how it came into his mind...but one thing was for sure...

This theory...was a big one.

Kaya chest heaved as she finally made it to the outskirts of the city. She leaned over, hands on her knees supporting her weight, and nausea took over her.  Her head swam, the excruciating pounding behind her eyes  became too much for her and she vomited. She kept her eyes hidden under her hood yet she still felt stares burning holes into her from the people around her.

Struggling to catch her breath, she tried to spit out the sour taste in her mouth while she straightened up and  Not much farther now...I cannot stop here.

It had been a long time since she had felt this exhausted from just running... She hated it. She felt weak and vulnerable but that didn't stop her from pressing further into town. She navigated her way through the dark streets and she successfully found the Laughing Fox pub again. Using her tracking skills, she observed a trail of blood she guessed that belonged to that bleeding man she saw Felicity helping before Kaya was whisked away by Gabriel.

She followed the trail, moving at a brisk walk now. Her worn and still recovering body was slowly reaching its limit. The leather pouch at her hip squirmed and the pup's head poked out, nose sniffing the air. After several minutes she reached the end of the trail and found herself standing in front of a Medic's office. Please let them still be here... She silently entered through the door, anxious to find Felicity and inform her of what happened.

The group of men around the table was caught in a fit of laughter when Black saw Alvin enter the dining area of the York Inn. Sharpe was cleaned up, equipped with weapons, and dressed in attire that didn’t consist of dirtied clothes that looked to have been worn for more than three days. In short, he looked like he meant business. As he approached the table Black spread his arms out in welcoming, acknowledging his presence to the others at the table.

“Gentlemen, may I introduce Mister Sharpe. A long time associate of mine, he carries with him both the keen mind of a merchant and the discipline of a soldier. I have the good fortune of having him by my side during my time here in America and should we conduct business in the future, Mister Sharpe is of the reliable sort.”

Black went on to acquaint Alvin with each of the men at the table, besides René and Matthieu. There was Albert Potter and George Stromwell, two of the wealthier merchants and businessmen in New York. Thomas Henley, a fellow who worked in the Governor’s office. Kurt Bachmann, a German banker who was in America on business. Then Edward and Graham Moore, brothers from a wealthy family in Britain who had come to the Colonies for no other reason than because they could. After dispensing with the introductions Black pushed his chair back and stood up, the two French mercenaries following suit not a moment later.

“Unfortunately we have business to attend to this evening so I must bid you all farewell, may we cross paths again in the future.” Black shook each man’s hand individually and then he, Sharpe, and the three Frenchman were departing from the Inn and into the darkness of the night.

At this point the last of the sun’s rays had been vanquished, the shadowy streets of New York illuminated only be lanterns and the light of the moon. Jacque and his companions followed Sharpe and Black from a distance keeping an eye out for any danger that might present itself. As they walked through the streets, Sharpe was given a brief rundown of what business they had at the port.

“We’re to be picking up a shipment of supplies from a ship that is currently docked in the port, the Bountiful Yield. What we are to be picking up isn’t necessarily in contradiction of the law but would raise a variety of questions if it was known to be in our possession, hence the discreet late night dealings. The captain of the vessel is to be present for the exchange and will meet us on the deck before taking us down to the hold. However, we will have to be... low-key, making our way onto the ship. Got it?"

Alvin Sharpe

Alvin gave a respectful nod by way of greeting to the men that Jeremiah introduced him to. Sharpe immediately read through the little fib that Black had fabricated on the spot. The two of them had not worked together on anything before, but Jeremiah was implying that they would be for some time to come.

Which was fine with Alvin really. He didn’t exactly have any real alternate options with the current hand of cards he’d been issued. But from where he stood, he felt like he was holding a Royal Flush. It was interesting the affect that words and simple generosity could alter a man’s disposition towards another. Jeremiah had taken care of Alvin. From saving him from the gallows, to literally putting the clothes on his back and the food in his stomach. In such a short list of acts, Jeremiah Black had earned Alvin’s loyalty, no matter what they were about to find themselves getting into. No one had ever treated him like that before.

The two men left with their mercenary escorts in tow. As they walked, Jeremiah briefly described what it was they were about to do. It seemed simple enough. Go to a ship, talk to the Captain, get the supplies, then leave. Easy enough.

For some reason though, Alvin’s mind got caught up on the name of the vessel with which they were closing distance with. He flashed back through his mind and recalled details perfectly in sequence. It was one of the reasons why Alvin Sharpe had made such a promising scout.

He had a photographic memory. Easily, given the right stimuli, he could recall people, names, events, and numbers, in perfect detail. It had made his observation reports very thorough.

Once the right information popped into his mind, Alvin hesitated and nearly fell to the ground, having missed an uneven piece of cobblestone in the road, and snagging the toe of his boot on it. He recovered quickly before falling, catching himself on his bad leg, forcing a wince from the man. At the look Jeremiah gave him, he held up his hands in surrender. He was fine.

“Mister Black, the name of that ship prompted me to think about some information I encountered prior to you liberating me yesterday. I overheard another scout group talking in the barracks about something that Sebastian Elsebert had assigned them. They were speaking about some kind of reinforcements that had been coming from overseas, for the Brotherhood of Assassins. The men had laughed when they’d found out that the reinforcements had been only one man. The Bountiful Yield played host to one Gabriel Winters. The same man, I admit, who gave me this limp a few days ago…

I think it best that we approach this situation with caution, Sir. Not only for the sake of any alleged questionable acts committed in the eyes of the Crown, but also because I have seen that man in action. Suffice to say Mister Black, I would not like to do so again. Winters is extremely dangerous. And I fail to see mere coincidence in having dealings with a ship that carried him here.”

Alvin kept his voice even, trying to remain undetected by the patrolling soldiers. His accent would not hide him from a group of soldiers if they heard his voice and recognized it. But even mentioning Gabriel’s name gave him the shivers. Winters had shown him kindness. But he would be see the man’s wrath if he found out Sharpe was back in New York and was still using his birth name, instead of Enoch, as Gabe had suggested. Was it likely that he would run into Gabriel out here? It didn’t seem plausible. Gabriel wasn’t sleeping on the ship, at last check. To be told true, the other scouts had mentioned that since arriving, Gabriel had had no interactions with anyone else in the crew of the vessel.

So it was extremely unlikely, but that didn’t really make Alvin Sharpe feel better.

As they walked, Alvin also started to notice more British soldiers patrolling. Not a whole army of course. But a definite increase in activity the further they got towards the docks.

He mentioned this to Black as well.

Alvin was getting a bad feeling about this. As a squad of soldiers marched past, Sharpe removed his new pistol from its holster and checked to make sure that the weapon was actually loaded. He hadn’t been given a firearm as a scout, regardless of how good he was with them. Too loud, his superiors had said. Well now he was glad for having one. It would serve him much better than a dagger if things got out of hand tonight.

After he was satisfied with his weapon, he replaced it in its holster and kept on hobbling beside Black. It was going to be an interesting night.

((I am sorry for the delay everyone... there is a lot going on in my area and because of that, work has been busy which is usually the easiest place for me to post at.))

Oh how she had hoped that Kaya and Gabriel would return to them before she took off. As her eyes scanned the street though, what little hope of that dissolved and she was off into the shadows towards the harbor. John had the better chance of guarding the good captain. If she sent him to the boat, it would be sending the man to his death. If she were lucky, there would not be so many to crowd the ship… still, one slip and they could easily call for help. This mission required stealth… and he did not have it. Not to mention, he was not an assassin. He had agreed to help… which is why she left the man with something less dangerous. Guarding a man was important…. they needed Gipson right now, and ensuring his safety was one of their concerns at the moment. At least until they could get him back on his ship and out of the area.

However, she was not like him. Though like most at first, he probably saw her as no more than a spoiled brat, joining the assassins for little more than something to upset her parents. Her mother was probably rolling in her grave, she had to admit that, but how little he knew. Her father gone and mother dead at a young age left her alone with a company to either run or let greedy rich men take over, passing the wealth to the Templars. After seeing events unfold first hand with the Templar’s goals, she refused to let them take over. They already treated the people of the town badly enough… if they were truly in charge without a fight, it would be even worse. They were false prophets… their lies were not to be believed. So though it may have been taking its toll on her, she would keep up what she was doing. Pretending to be a stupid aristocrat had its advantages. There was much she was invited to, much was told to her, and things she was able to discover easily without fear as those who had to sneak their way in. Perhaps she was just used for this and her resources… still, even if that were the case, she knew her skills were well enough to be useful even if that were not the case. Why was she letting this bother her anyway?

There was more to be concerned of… her immediate thoughts went to Kaya and Gabriel. She really had to wonder what had made them leave so quickly. They were exiting town the same way they had before… it didn’t bode well. Still, Gipson’s ship was her concern for now. She could only silently wish the two luck as she set about her task at hand.  

Thankfully, the city was void of most people, except for the drunken men wandering around, following after a few women whose morals seemed long since gone. Still… they were helpful for their information at times as well. She watched as one was easily leading one man astray and his wallet along with it. It made it easy for her to quietly move along the street to the ship. Judging by the aura in the street and the way the sky was, it was already past midnight, though she couldn’t say exactly when. The houses either had a dim orange glow from them, or were completely black.

As she reached the docks, the smell of fish and salt water hit her nose, but it was almost a relaxing smell that fell over her. She paused, listening to the area around her, seeing if she could spot anything yet. The only sounds were that of the waves softly hitting the sides of the harbor and the creak of the ships as they rocked smoothly from the calm waves that would come in time to time. The area was not heavily guarded, which she thought to be strange. Apparently Sebastian was not that worried… which upset her slightly. She should be happy that it was not so crowded with guards… but it made her stomach twist with what that could possibly mean. There might be something else she needed to be thinking about. ‘Focus on what is at hand…’ Perhaps she should be grateful for this. Afterall, it was only her.

They seemed to be done for the day for adjusting the ship. Only a few guards seemed to be standing watch from what she could tell, and she doubted there was more than a handful of them. She could take them out one by one if needed. By now, the meeting she had seen in his book had been long over with and that opportunity she missed out on. Still, there would be much to find out about what was going on. They also probably knew that Captain Gipson was gone as well. She would have to get him out of the area before too much longer. At least until he healed a bit more. Then he would be free to take his ship and get out of the area until things settled back down here. Still… perhaps he would be able to tell them a bit more than what the Templars were able to pull from him.

The assassin moved through piles of goods and crates so that she stayed out of sight from anyone. As she approached the boat, it became even more clear to her of what the guard duty was like. Indeed, it was lacking. Instead of having men at set posts, they seemed to be patrolling all around. This would help her get on the ship easily without having to hide bodies. It would also keep her from having to swim her way to the boat, and for that matter, following behind people would make it easier to stay on deck rather than up high where private words would be lost to her.

For a few minutes she paused, watching the men who would come to the edge. She wanted to make sure to not be spotted and to find the best route and hiding areas. It was time to make her move…. once the guard that was watching the side facing her, she slipped from the crates and made her way onto the deck, slipping in between barrels and watching as the others moved past her. So far so good. She could do this part easily. Now she just needed to see if anyone else of interest was on the ship. She hoped Sebastian was… she could find out what he was up to. Perhaps, she could find the crew and if possible, get them to take the ship a bit away so that they could get Captain Gipson back to his ship safely in another area. But Felicity knew nothing of sailing a ship, and she would be no help with that…. she could only free the ship and get it back to its rightful owner.

Black noted his companion’s concerns at the sudden increase of British soldiers as they moved closer to the port, but remained confident they would not impede the task they set out to accomplish this evening. After a few minutes Black came to realize that these troops weren’t patrolling around the docks, rather they were searching and spreading out farther and farther into the city.

The soldiers appeared to be either agitated or tired, meaning anyone who happened to come across them this evening would either have the good fortune of men who just wanted to get some rest or the bad luck to run into those who were just itching for a fight. Something had occurred at the port, something significant enough to justify the mobilization of this many patrols to be searching for something, or someone, in the dead of night. As they left the searching British Regulars behind Black noticed Sharpe ease up more, relaxing the tight grip he held on the pistol he had just received not too long ago.

When they had finally come upon the docks Black’s suspicions were confirmed with the notably light number of guards to be seen. Beyond the two soldiers guarding entry to the docks several ships could be seen lightly rocking in the water. Most of them were dark with only a few lit with lanterns, but only one was also being guarded by British Regulars - the Bountiful Yield. Away from the ships all of the warehouses stood dark save one, where a warm glow could be seen to be emanating from its distant windows. By the time Black and Sharpe came to be standing before the now alert soldiers guarding the docks Jacque, René and Matthieu had come up behind them, providing a formidable appearance for the group of five. The two guards eyed them suspiciously, cautious at the sizeable group of men.

“The dock is currently under lockdown, no one may enter without the word of Harbourmaster Elsebert,” one of the soldiers said firmly, holding his rifle to his chest.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, no need to be so stately, we’re expected this evening,” Black said jovially as he reached into his jacket pocket.

“We weren’t notified of anyone being allowed into the port this evening,” the other guard said, eyeing the new strangers warily.

Black raised his right hand before the soldier’s face, the back of his hand facing towards the guard. There, on his ring finger, was a silver ring bearing a red cross on it.

“I trust you’ve seen this before, and I also trust you will let us by without further questions.”

The soldiers’ eyes widened in recognition of the symbol they had come to observe on the occasion of many important shipments and meetings in the port.

“You’re late for the meeting sir, everyone left a while ago.”

“Well thank goodness we’re not here for the meeting - now move aside.” Black didn’t pause for a second, although filed away the news of a meeting haven taken place in the back of his mind.

Soon enough, Black and his company were quickly making their way towards the The Bountiful Yield without meeting any resistance from the guards who passed them by. Any who did stop and question them were greeted with the ring on Black’s finger, causing them to quickly step aside and let them carry on with their business.

“Good evening, we’re here to inspect the ship and relieve it of any items of interest.”

Black strode up to the soldier who stood at the ramp leading on to the ship. By now the guard had seen the group of five men pass by every patrol and had no question that they belonged here at the port.

“Sir, there’s a number of men below deck searching through the hold for any items of interest. They’ll be able to fill you in on anything they have found already.”

“Thank you very much, soldier. Mr. Sharpe, gentlemen, let’s be on our way.”

With that, they boarded the Bountiful Yield.

Alvin Sharpe

Alvin followed Jeremiah right up to the guards posted in red by the docks. He listened intently, as Black spoke to the men casually. Such a silver tongue he had! If he tried, Alvin was relatively certain that Jeremiah could talk the Pope out of his fancy hat...

He tried to look inconspicuous as Black did his part, looking left and right without haste, as if he were simply observing the docks themselves.

Inspecting the ships well after midnight when you can't see a damned thing, are you Alvin?

He quietly sighed to himself and closed his eyes at his own idiocy. When he opened them again, Jeremiah was showing the guards some kind of ring. It was a simple silver band. What was he showing them? That he was married? Was his wife someone important? No, it was the wrong hand for a wedding band. So what was it?

As Jeremiah stepped past the guards, his right hand dropped to his side and Alvin caught sight of the other side of the ring in the waning light of a lantern.

His heart skipped a beat. It was a Templar Cross. Jeremiah Black was a Templar.

The very people he'd been trying to escape from had recaptured him and brought him willingly into the lion's den. He realized as he continued walking numbly that he was now completely surrounded on all sides by either soldiers or impossible escape. What could he do?

He kept walking, eyes darting from side to side for any possible route to safety.

Why had Black done it? Why would he betray Alvin? He'd done it with a smile on his face. Extending the hand of friendship with his left but sliding the knife into Alvin's heart with the right.

All with a smile on his face....

These Templars.. They were snakes. Less than human in some way. How did they ruin people so effortlessly?

More talking was happening but Alvin could scarcely pay attention. There was an unearthly ringing in his ears as his panic levels began to rise. All focus went out the window.

Jeremiah was moving again, a pleased look on his features. He just kept flashing that damned ring and soldiers grew weak in the knees. Fear. Fear that Alvin Sharpe had gripping his very heart at that exact moment. Who would do it? Who would shoot him in the back? Matthieu? Jacque? The other man? Would Black do it himself?

Then he heard his name.

Mr. Sharpe. Straight from Jeremiah's mouth.

Alvin's second worst fear came to fruition before his eyes. These soldiers worked for Sebastian. They'd been briefed. It only took a half a step before one of the guards placed a heavy hand on Alvin's shoulder.

"Hold there a minute! Did you say Sharpe? Let me have a look at you..." He spun Alvin bodily around and bent low to get a good look at his face. Confusion first on his features, then recognition. "Well I'll be..." he whispered.

He nodded to his companion and shoved Alvin back into his grip, turning to Black and the other three. "You lot can go. This man stays with us for questioning. Sebastian's got people looking for him."

Then Alvin's first worst fear came to play as well. "Sebastian has people looking for whom... soldier?" Sebastian said as he descended the steps from the bow of the ship.

Shit! No no no.... this... this can't be happening. Why Jeremiah?! Why would you do this?!?

A light squeak of panic escaped Alvin's throat as Sebastian approached. His face must have been as pale as the moon as the blood drained from it.

Elsebert squinted in the dim light and smiled wide as he recognized Alvin.

"Well well! Mr. Sharpe returns to us! I am sure he has much to say, don't you Alvin...? My dear man, Jeremiah, my friend... I had not expected such a lovely gift from you. To what do I owe the honor?"

Sebastian was flanked by his usual retinue of two guards. One on either side of him. Standing stark against the pale moonlight.

It was Alvin's worst possible imagining.

Kaya stumbled inside the room, feeling a fresh surge of nausea wash over her. Clenching her jaw tight, she fought back the urge to vomit again as she leaned against the door frame.

The room was small with several wooden chairs lined up against the walls and single lantern that stood on a desk in the far corner of the room cast a dim glow. She advanced further into the room and shut the door behind her.

She desperately wanted to call out for anyone but was afraid of unlocking her jaw and losing what little hydration she had left.

Her entrance didn't go unnoticed and she took note of a light at the end of the hallway that was behind the desk. It was bobbing toward her and getting closer and brighter. The light was accompanied by a single pair of footsteps and she her chest tightened with uncertainty.

She recognized the light belonging to a lantern held by tall balding man. His lantern cast an eerie shadow across his face and Kaya's vision was swimming too much to be able to pick out his features. "Can I help you...?" He asked in a rough, tired voice and stretching his lantern out more to get a better look at her. His eyes flicked to her left arm and immediately Kaya moved to cover the wound. "If you are hurt...I can help you, I'm a doctor." He said slower this time as he stepped closer to her.

Kaya scrunched up her nose. Why... is he speaking so slow? Does he think that I do not understand English? I am not that stupid... The pouch at her hip growled but did little to intimidate the man, he only looked confused and surprised to see a tiny head with huge furry ears poke out.

Kaya couldn't fight off the exhaustion anymore and suddenly her world was spinning and she was on the floor, staring at the ceiling. She felt a tiny spark of panic rise in her throat when the man rushed to her side, setting the bright lantern on the floor beside them. The blackness however quickly crushed all emotion and she couldn't help but succumb to it.



------------



Balance.

That was what he said they were working on today, and Kaya quickly figured out that she had to have been the most uncoordinated Novice Assassin in the entire Brotherhood...and Nehele made sure to point that out.

Sweat formed and tickled as it ran down the sides of her face and neck. Her brows were tightly knitted and she bit her lower lip as she focused solely on the trees in front of her. Nehele had her standing on one leg, holding a rather large, heavy and awkwardly shaped rock. She was balancing on a fallen tree that acted as a bridge over a raging river.

"If you fail. You die." Nehele's words behind her were quick and sharp.

Kaya's leg trembled under her weight and she couldn't stop her thoughts from wondering what would happen to her body if she fell. She glanced down at the river's white rapids and gulped.

"Eyes forward, Kaya!" Nehele quickly corrected her and her eyes snapped back to the treeline ahead of her. "Keep your focus on your body. Feel the way it moves and the way it resists. Let it be your teacher today, young one..."

Kaya wanted nothing more than let that stupid rock fall beneath her. Why did have to be so damn heavy? Her arms were on fire and she was certain that this was the end. She was going to die any minute now, plunging into the cold mountain water below.

Then she head a tiny voice inside of her, telling her not to give up, urging her to keep fighting as the many smiling faces of her murdered village friends floated to the front of her mind.

No. I will NOT die today. I will live. I will fight for him. For them.

------------

Black smiled widely with a twinkle in his eye as Sebastian Elsebert stepped down to greet the trio. It had been several months since he had last seen the Harbourmaster of New York City and the smug look of arrogance and superiority didn’t seem to have left his face since then. Still, there was almost a sense of relief to be back in his company. Black had been abroad for many months, travelling, planning, and setting things in motion that had taken place far away from the small circle of Templars he usually dealt with. Sebastian seemed absolutely delighted to have Alvin Sharpe in front of him at his mercy, although the unannounced arrival of Black seemed to have thrown him just a bit.

“Sebastian, how wonderful to see you again! What has it been - six, seven months? I swear the last time I saw you you were riding the buttocks of some poor woman in a brothel. It made for a particularly poignant goodbye, but it’s good to see you fully-clothed this evening. As to why I’m here, well,” Black gestured to Sharpe, who seemed to have gone borderline catatonic, as he spoke, “I’ve brought a gift for you. I’m sure our friend Alvin here has much to say, and I recently acquired a new knife that I’ve just been dying to try out. What do you say we have a conversation, the three of us?”

Sebastian gave one of those half smiles which betrayed only a little of the sudden loathing he felt for Jeremiah Black. But he rolled with the verbal punch nonetheless.

"It was a rather interesting night, that last one, yes. And I think it would be a lovely idea to see what Mister Sharpe has been able to learn in his absence. To the Captains cabin. You can leave your.... friends... here.” He said with an irritated glance at the rough looking trio behind Balck.

One of the guards holding Alvin pulled his new pistol from its holster and tossed it to another man on deck who had come to see the commotion. As soon as Sharpe was relieved of his weapons, they forcefully marched him forward towards the cabin in question. It wasn't hard truthfully. It was more dragging than anything else, as Alvin's legs felt rather akin to jelly at that moment.

Sebastian fell in next to Jeremiah, his two guards following a pace behind looking completely at home in this situation. Their eyes kept moving, looking for threats to their master.

"Your timing is uncanny, Black. Where have you been off to this time?"

“Oh, you know, here and there. I did take one trip down to Havana to check in on the state of affairs there and set up a few new trade deals. I’d only arrived back in the colony recently when I had heard of a traitorous Templar’s escape from the clutches of justice - I just had to intervene,” Black retorted with a chuckle, seemingly amused at the convenient timing of the world around him. As the small group approached the Captain’s cabin, Black turned to Sebastian yet again.

“Perhaps it would be best if the information we’re to going to pry and… cut… from Mr. Sharpe, would be best left to our ears only. As much as I appreciate the supposed ‘loyalty’ of your men you’ve already had one run off and try and assumedly expose you, I don’t need anyone else doing so and being able to mention my name in things as well.”

Sebastian smirked, "less of a Templar and more of a pawn. He never knew why we used him. Which was fine. He proved useful.... for a time. But you needn’t worry about these men my friend, their loyalty has been tested thoroughly. Hasn't it boys? Show Mr. black why he is safe, won't you?"

The men traded glances but then opened their mouths towards Jeremiah.

Both of their tongues had been cut out.

Moments later they were in the Captain’s cabin. There were a couple of overturned chairs, charts and maps scattered across the floor - clearly there had been a scuffle within some time ago. Black’s mind turned to the captain of the vessel, Gipson, for a brief moment before putting the man out of his head, such thoughts could not get in the way right now. As one of the guards began to subdue Sharpe, binding him to a now-upright chair, Black pulled a dagger out of his jacket. Yes, this is the one I’ll use, he thought to himself, admiring it’s gleam in the dim cabin light.

Alvin seemed to regain some of his courage, if only a little. His voice trembled as he spoke.

“You… They are going to find  you, and kill you. The people you had me watching. Gabriel will find you!”

Sebastian grinned to himself. His back turned to the group as he kicked around a few knick nacks idly on the floor. “Oh. I wouldn’t much worry about him. You’ve gone over to the other side my dear Alvin. The Assassins will die. Starting with your Gabriel. The Lord Seeker already has him sadly. And the other that was with him will be brought in shortly, I’m sure.”

Time seemed to slow as Black reached his arm around the first guard and dragged the sharp blade across his throat. Crimson drops painted the floor as the tongueless man, mouth agape in shock, fell to the floor. Both Elsebert and the guard tying Sharpe turned at the sudden commotion but Black had already procured one of the two flintlock pistols he carried and had it leveled on the second guard. There was a loud bang, smoke and the smell of gunpowder filled the room as the man dropped to the floor with a hole in his chest. Lazily dropping the spent weapon to the ground Black retrieved his second, and final one from his jacket, bringing it to bear on Sebastian Elsebert.

Sebastian was absolutely taken off guard. He looked on in horror as his only protection hit the floor dead. Sebastian Elsebert was not a fighter. That was why he hired people to do it for him. He fell back to the floor, backing as far away from Jeremiah as possible.

“Wh… why!?” He stammered out.

Alvin Sharpe was also stunned. Why had the man that had betrayed him just killed the fighters in the room? The percussion of the pistol caused him to jump in his chair, and it was then that he realized that the men had not finished tying him down. He jumped to his feet, suddenly emboldened by the action and ripped the pistol from one of the dead men’s belts.

At first he pointed it at Sebastian. He thought twice about it however and redirected the muzzle at Black for a moment, a look of confusion on his face.

Black, with a pistol aimed at Sebastian in one hand and a blood-drenched dagger in the other, looked to Alvin, then to the cowering Sebastian on the floor, then back to Alvin. Raising his eyebrows and gestured with the bloody dagger as he spoke.

“Alvin, are you planning on doing something with that?”

Alvin considered for a moment, then cautiously swung the pistol back to Sebastian, keeping his eyes on Black. Though he did back to the door and slide the lock into place, to be safe. Not thinking of course that their three companions were still outside on deck.

Outside, things were quite calm indeed. Evidently, the men on deck were used to hearing gunfire in closed rooms when Sebastian went to a so called “interrogation”.

Sebastian Elsebert was slowly recovering his nerve. He pulled himself to a standing position, leaning on the captains desk.”Why Jeremiah? You’re one of us! This… this gets you nothing!”

“Sebastian, Sebastian… this isn’t about ‘us’, this is about you and I. I’m sorry, where are my manners? Here, could you hold this for me for a second?” Black walked towards Sebastian, holding out his pistol with the barrel still pointing towards the man but no longer with his finger on the trigger. Sebastian quickly wrenched the pistol from his hands but in the time it took him to turn it back on its owner it was already too late. Black gripped his wrist, preventing him from firing the pistol, while he stabbed him in the gut with his dagger, pushing him back until he had him pinned against the wall of the cabin. The knife twisted and Elsebert lost his grip on the pistol, sending it clattering to the floor. One of the larger windows of the Captain’s cabin was open, letting in a cool breeze from the ocean. Black spoke just a little over a whisper, looking into the man’s eyes as he did so.

“Do you smell that Sebastian, the salty ocean air? I’ve spent many years on the sea during my life and every time that smell just,” Black sighed, smiling a bit, “brings back so many memories. Some good, some… bad. I believe you used to spend time at sea too, Sebastian. Do you remember the Atlantic off the coast of Portugal? Think about it for a moment, stop worrying about the knife - think Sebastian. Yes, you do. It was many years before we were acquainted for the first time, but we met on that day. I was there. This is fo - oh.”

Sebastian’s eyes had gone blank, staring past Black into nothingness. Black released his grip on the knife and his wrist and the dead man slumped to the floor, a pool of blood starting to form on the wooden floor. A moment passed before he stooped down to retrieve his pistol and knife, which he promptly wiped clean on Sebastian’s jacket. Then he turned to Alvin, a slightly confused expression on his face.

“What are you doing just standing there? We’ve got a package to pick up Alvin.”

Alvin looked on in growing fascination, and not a small amount of horror. At hearing his name, Alvin blinked and seemed to snap out of his reverie.

“Who… are you?” he asked wistfully. He wasn’t overly upset about seeing the bane of his existence dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

But he was just so damned confused.

“How… pray tell, do you intend to get out of here without this man in tow? We are on his ship, surrounded by his men, and he is dead. You just turned a shipful of men against us as soon as we open this door.”

Alvin mustered his courage and stalked over to the cooling body of Sebastian Elsebert. He reached down and pulled the Templar ring off of the man’s finger and pocketed it. After a long moment… he reared back and punched the dead man square in the face. Frustration mounted within him, and he kept punching and punching.

He stood breathless. “.... bastard…..” he whispered.

Black looked down at his bloody hand. “And I thought I had issues.”