Disclaimer Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and I don't but you knew that.

Rating this M because most of what I write tends to go in that direction: / who am I kidding this is going to be bloody and messy and sexy if it ever gets past the first couple thousand words. SO if that sort of thing bothers you read no further.


Bostonian's on the whole were a hearty bunch, living so close to the ocean and being exposed to the harsher elements of coastal weather had made them so but even those most hardened to the heavy downpours of late autumn were finding these endless rainy days a burden. The roads had become mires which both man and beast would struggle to navigate without problems and it showed. There was a cart over laden with wood stuck fast in the deep mud and the assassin felt real pity for the animal which had been forced to endure the burden of that load. Everything had taken on that depressing colour of dirt, the buildings, the people even the sky seemed to more accurately reflect what was underfoot and he felt a wave of homesickness wash over his weary soul.

Moving past a group of down trodden looking women hovering outside a bakery and hoping for some cheap food which wouldn't be saleable the next day he focused once more on the far more pleasing vista in front of him. William De Saint Prix smirked at the subtle sway of the lady walking ahead of him, her gait was steady yet alluring and he found himself curious to see if the front of her was as attractive as the back. Quickening his pace he swept easily past the few Bostonians brave enough to face the deluge and carry on with their daily business. Most of the residents of his adopted home had stayed indoors or where huddling in doorways trying to wait for a break in the rain but he doubted any such break was coming.

A few steps behind her now he saw her body lean to one side as her footing was lost in the thick mud underfoot. His hand shot out with lightening speed and grabbed the arm of the woman before she completely lost her balance. "Careful mademoiselle it would not do for you to fall and dirty your dress." Keeping his hand on her until he felt her body steady beneath his grip, forgetting the joke he was about to make about the weather when her hazel eyes flashed at him.

"Thank you very much that could have been very messy." Ignoring the fact that the hem of her skirt was already caked in mud she smiled her most dazzling effort at her handsome rescuer. She was carrying a small pamphlet which had become utterly sodden. What she could see of his face was lean and most of it was in the shadow of a hood he wore curiously enough beneath a tri-corn hat.

"May I ask what that used to be?"

Not failing to notice the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth Eleanor went along with his light hearted tone and offered a reply. "Of course you may, it was a collection of various poems but the one which had my attention was "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" by Thomas Gray. Not something I would recommend if you are in need of some cheer in this dreary season."

"Ah a little light reading I see. However for this miserable time of year I can think of a great many other things I would rather wile away the hours looking at."

Widening her eyes she nodded not in the least shocked by his innuendo. "As can I my good sir but right now I fear my most important task is to get out of this rain since I'm already late for a meeting."

"If you have far to go I could summon a carriage for you it would be no trouble."

"I only have a few more mud soaked streets to go but thank you for your consideration."

Glancing around he saw they were beginning to catch the attention of a small group huddling in the doorway of a printers shop. Making a crook in his arm he offered it to her, "Please permit me to escort you to your destination."

They chatted about the weather and other mundane things until she guided him into an alleyway at the North side church. "So, here we are."

He looked behind at a small group of children trying to coax either coin or fun from a passerby at the entrance to the alley. He wanted to think of something to say to keep her chatting but he knew that would be inappropriate but when he reverted his attention to his companion he was stunned to see her face moving towards his, her hazel eyes shining bright with mischief. "I hear a slight accent and I believe this is how you bid good day to a friend in your part of the world." One of her lips brushed the stubble on his left cheek but only the most delicate of touches, the air got more of his kiss than his flesh did. When she moved to his other cheek he turned his face towards her and made the most of the contact.

"You are mistaken Mademoiselle no self respecting Frenchman would ever allow such a beautiful woman to escape with so flimsy a kiss. This is how we do it..." Placing a hand on either shoulder he pressed his lips firmly onto either of her cheeks trying not to linger too long enjoying the gentle floral fragrance of her hair. Some rainwater dripped from the top of his hat onto her upturned face but she didn't seem too troubled by it. Seeing another opportunity to stay with her he brushed at the sodden wayward strands of hair sticking to her apple red cheeks, "My apologies..."

This time a flash of green in her cat like hazel eyes, 'Why had he never seen this woman before?'

"Think nothing of it; I could hardly be any wetter than I already am." Her brilliant smile had him once more wishing they had more time together but would it be too blunt to ask her outright to meet with him?

He was still standing too close to her and she wasn't showing any signs of discomfort. Most things in life for William de Saint-Prix were conundrums to be mulled over and reconsidered a thousand times but for once he decided to act without forethought. "I wonder if you would do me the honour of –"

"Eleanor my girl what are you doing standing out in this rain? You'll catch your death out here!"

A round bodied, ruddy faced man stood in the doorway of the church gesturing to the woman to get inside. "I'll be there in a minute Watkins I'm thanking a kind man for helping me through the streets."

The old man was not best pleased by her reply and William chose not to make the situation worse for her. "The kindness was yours; your company brightened my day." Tipping the edge of his tri-cornered hat he bowed.

He smiled at her awkward curtsey and was once more mesmerized by her eyes; they shone so bright against the greyness of the day like a warm fire on a gloomy winter's night. "Likewise but I don't even know your –"

"Eleanor, come inside now so we can shut the door!"

"Oh for goodness sake Watkins there is no need to be so rude, I'm coming!" Turning back to the far more pleasing sight of her young escort she smiled, "I'm sorry I really must go."

Tilting his head once more he watched as she disappeared behind the imposing black door and sighed 'It could have been beautiful...'


Flicking the blood from his hooks he deftly deposited the weapon back in his belt, tired and more than a little frustrated from his apparent inability to track down the redcoat who was causing so much trouble for his brothers in the city. Stepping over the body of the poor ill-informed Templar – had he known anything he would have talked – he made his way towards the docks. Night was beginning to fall and most of the decent folks of Boston would already be home enjoying their dinner or tucking their little ones into bed but for men like him night was often the most productive period. Fog was rolling in from the coast and he began to relax as he felt the thick white mist envelope him, being unseen was almost as important as being vigilant.

Somewhere ahead of him he heard a scream although shrill it was definitely masculine and he danced around some discarded boxes making his way to the rooftops and the source of the sound. On the rooftop of a warehouse he glanced to his left, a flash of red vanishing into the mist and without missing a step he gracefully leapt from his perch and set off in pursuit of his new target. Red clothes were rare in Boston most of the citizens wore the plain coloured cheaper dyes provided by the tailors, besides which red was not a popular colour among the colonists. As he darted past the body of a fallen rebel more sounds from ahead alerted him to the direction of his quarry – the unmistakable sound of crates falling – if he was lucky his prey would have run right into them.

Luck wasn't on his side, the crates had been scattered to slow his progress. He growled as he tried to navigate the obstacles in the dimly lit back streets and winced when his knee connected with the sharp edge of the last one he tried to jump over. "Baiser cette merde!" Scrambling to keep his balance he grimaced trying to decide which direction to take. He heard a woman's laughter to his right and left, believing that a redcoat running at high speed would not illicit laughter. After an hour of searching every corner and shop front he decided enough was enough it was time to go home and open up one of the last remaining bottles of wine he had brought with him from his father's vineyard in France and let his mind go over the happier details of a meeting from a few days before the English woman with the eyes he would kill to look upon once more.


Matthew Davenport strolled across the deck of the ship with his hands clasped behind his back and his head turned in the direction of his daughter. The soft rocking motion of the docked vessel was causing his stomach, still suffering from last night's drinking binge, to roll in the most unpleasant fashion. Wishing he had met her on dry land he rubbed the back of his forearm across his brow and tried to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could find a nice dark room to rest in for a few hours. "We have received reliable information that the man they call the Huntsman frequents a French cafe on the southern edge of Boston. It will be your job to go there flush him out and kill him. So far all our efforts have failed but I'm sure with your skills you can succeed where others have not."

Eleanor knew which particular talents her father was referring to but she wasn't offended by the implication. She had done many things for the cause and would do them again without hesitation and to bring down the Huntsman... "Do you have any information about his appearance, his name, anything which would help narrow the search down?"

"He's French and an assassin nothing else."

"I wonder if an English woman can get herself hired in a French inn." She smirked as she gave her father her now trademark two fingered salute. "There is no time to lose the sooner I begin the sooner I can get back."

He watched her leave with a genuine sense of pride, his daughter, the girl who had forsaken his name to serve anonymously amongst the other men he commanded. She wore the uniform of the Redcoat with pride and carried out her orders with zeal he found lacking in many of his other men.

Eleanor Mallow would not be wearing her beloved red jacket for her next mission, she would be a girl who had fallen on hard times and who needed to earn an honest living. She made her way to the small house her father had rented for her and found an appropriate dress among her many guises and smiled when she found just the thing – a low cut tight fitting dress of the brightest scarlet, more suited to the harlot's who frequented the brothels and inns than to a daughter born to a commander in the British army.

She took in the sight of herself in the mirror and turned her body from one side to other, "Well Eleanor you better hope you don't have to do much chasing with this thing on."

The woman made her way to the street door to begin her task completely aware that no matter what she clothed herself in she was still the same deadly Templar she had always been.


Translation (probably wrong) Baiser cette merde: fuck this shit.

A/N this is part of a small fic I had in mind from playing the multiplayer on ACIII. Some of the characters from the game will make an appearance if I ever decide to expand it to a full story. I have another 5000 words written for this but editing is so painfully slow with only one working hand so I'll post this and see how it goes down with the readers.