BEGIN MEMORY CLIP, JOHANNA MACNAMARA, CHICAGO/FT. DEERBORN, 1848

The wind held a chill as it blew out of the north. It rifled through the hair of Johanna MacNamara as she stared down from the rooftop. The sun was approaching the Western horizon and had taken on a red-gold light. Shadows were long as the night approached and as Johanna looked us, she could see the first stars as day slowly gave way to the inkiness of night. It was the perfect night for an assassination.

Johanna was a new assassin and she felt that sense of not being ready keenly. It had barely been 3 months since a lawyer by the name of Abraham Lincoln had discovered her surrounded by blood in the barn of her family's farm. Then, Johanna had been scared, ready to bolt. Now, she was still scared, but her characteristic determination had returned with training. This new life of being an Assassin was daunting on the best of days.

She looked to her side to see her latest mentor: Edward Miller. He was 3 years older than Johanna but she had found herself fascinated by the man's commitment to the Order and his aggressive dealings with the enemy Templars. On top of all this, Johanna could not help but be drawn to the eyes: steel grey eyes that seemed to become soft as clay at times, but hard as metal other times. This man had her attention. But now, she could only think of what he had just told her.

"Are you certain, Mentor?" Johanna asked quietly. Johanna's eyes were following an older man that was approaching them from the south. He had not noticed them.

"I am." Edward replied. "Look Johanna. I plainly understand that you are new to the brotherhood, but remember the tenets of our Creed. One of them is to never allow the order to be compromised. This informant intends to barter his knowledge of our hideouts to the Templars. We cannot allow that to happen."

"I understand that!" Johanna clipped. "I just don't understand why he has to die. I know all you see is an informant that has betrayed us. But me, I see a man who is most likely a father, a husband. What of his children?"

Edward stared for a moment and then answered, "I cannot say to that. Mercy will serve you well at times, Johanna. But the life of an assassin is always a life spent inflicting pain. One hopes that at the end of it all, there will be a better world."

Johanna didn't answer to that. She had made her case and failed, again. Edward confounded her with the simplest arguments. She could not stand it and the man infuriated her. She quickly stamped down her anger before it could boil over. She quickly unsheathed her hidden blade.

"Kill quickly, Johanna. I will meet you back at the hideout. Send a pigeon if you find yourself lost. I will find you."

She huffed in response and set to work. The shadows of the buildings would make this kill slightly more difficult. However, she believed she could do it. He approached closer, still unwitting. Finally, Johanna saw her opening and hurled herself over the side, hidden blade at the ready.

The blade came down...

And sliced through square in the chest. The force of her impact had knocked the man on his back. He wheezed as his fading eyes found Johanna's tearing ones. He coughed bloodily as she laid him down gently. "I hope you're happy, Assassin." He did not say much more besides some disjointed words. As the last lights faded from his eyes. Johanna closed them.

She said, "I'm not, sir. I hope I'm never happy doing this. Rest in Peace."

There were few street-goers at this time in the evening, but those that were had seen the murder in plain sight. Some were calling for the sheriff. Others were asking for a gun. This was Johanna's cue to make her escape. Her tall, lithe frame sprang into the darkness between two buildings and she ran in a zig-zagging pattern through the buildings, never looking back.

If she had, she was afraid she would cry. She willed herself to keep moving. Soon enough, she saw that unique symbol engraved on a brick. It was unmistakable as she came to a stop. The next door over would be her destination: an assassin den.

She hoped, no she prayed to a God she hoped was listening still, that if she had to kill, it was not like that. The Assassins were her life now. But that did not mean that she would take death lightly...ever.

END MEMORY CLIP