I set off to meet Connor and Haythem in New York, leaving Dan and Baxter behind. Too many Alphians in one group was sure to arouse suspicion. It war time, that wouldn't do. Baxter was adamant about going; in the end, it took me threatening to tie him to a chair for him to give way.

It was late by the time I reached New York. My mount Raytheon, currently a dark bay horse as opposed to the usual dragon, snorted unhappily as he saw the scarlet coats of the guards at the gate. I gave him a quick pat on the neck. "I know, boy," I assured him in a hushed tone, "I don't like them any more than you do."

I gained a snort and head toss in reply. I rolled my eyes; Raytheon was as expressive as most humans I knew and just as smart, if not smarter, than some of them. We trotted up to the gate where one of the men stopped us.

"Halt!" he called, stepping up to us with his musket held across his front. His eyes were dull and half shut, although he was making an effort to look alert. Clearly he was tired, which was good news for me. The more tired he was, the less trouble I would have fooling him if need be. His companion, who was considerably more awake, would be harder.

"How goes it, gents?" I asked, forcing what I hoped to be a non-threatening grin. I had a bad habit of baring my teeth when I smiled, and most found it threatening if not disturbing. What could I say? I'm a predator.

"Well enough," the soldier replied, returning the peasantry. Seems as though my grin wasn't as threatening as I thought it'd be. The soldier gave me and my horse a once over. Finding nothing, he brought his muddy brown eyes up to meet my icy blue ones "What is your business in the town?" he asked me.

Oddly enough, there was no challenge in his tone. I'd have to remember him next time I came through. While I was not a fan of the "lobsterbacks", I did make a point to remember the ones who weren't total jerks.

"I'm meeting an old friend." Well, that was partly true, I reflected as I thought about it. Connor was an old friend. Haythem, on the other hand, was the biggest pain in the rear this side of the Atlantic. Raytheon pawed the ground, eager to be on the way. I was with him; this was taking too long.

The soldier stepped aside to avoid getting his foot stomped on as the other redcoat marched up to us. "And just where is your permit?" he demanded haughtily.

My eyes narrowed at him and I had to clench my jaw to prevent from spitting out an insult. Oh… I would remember him.

The other soldier must have seen the warning in my eyes, for he gestured with his musket for the other man to stand down. "Peace, Terry. This young man is doing no harm," he said.

"I'm a girl," I muttered under my breath. Was I that easy to confuse with a male? Sure my build was muscular and my stature intimidating, but still.

The two did not hear me. The jerk glanced at his mate, then snorted and stepped back. The other redcoat sighed and turned his tired gaze back to me. "Alright. Be on your way," he told me, gesturing with his musket for me to pass as he shifted to the side.

Raytheon gave a whinny as if to say, 'Finally!' I dipped my head to the soldier. "Thank you," I said. I didn't even get a chance to nudge Raytheon with my heels before he reared and took off down toward the docks. Headstrong beast, Raytheon was. Even worse than me at points. Were he human, I have no doubt he'd kill every redcoat he could.

It didn't take us long to make it to where Haythem was. I dismounted nearby and turned to look at Raytheon. "Behave," I told him, grabbing the bridle to hold his head still. "No more kicking redcoats." The last time he had done that he had almost dented the man's skull. Had I not been nearby, the man may not have made it. Thankfully he had survived, for he gave some much needed information in return for me saving his life.

Raytheon snorted, clearly disgruntled, but he bowed his head in silent agreement.

I gave him a pat on the nose before I loosened his girth and took the bridle off. He nickered happily, glad to have the cold metal bar out of his mouth. I didn't blame him. Normally, I could ride him bare back without a bridle, but since talking to animals was an Alphian skill, it'd draw to much attention. Oh, the things I did to avoid detection.

One particular incident popped up in my head just then, and I shuddered. No, I had not wanted to start a "resistance war" with an arrogant British Dragoon. Ass hat.

Leaving my mount tethered where he was, I trotted quickly over to where Haythem was staring towards the sea. He looked at me from the corner of his eye as I came to stand beside him, mimicking his position with my hands held behind my back. He was wearing the usual getup with his cursêd hat. That hat. That bloody hat.

I had tried to get rid of the damned thing many times before. Without success. It was as if it was enchanted and couldn't be separated from his person. "Haythem," I greeted, glaring at his hat. How I wished for it to spontaneously combust.

Haythem didn't turn to acknowledge me. "Scarlett," he replied in return, reaching up to make sure his hat was on snug. "Why you insist on dressing in the garb of the Assassins is beyond my comprehension."

I snorted. While my hooded cloak did resemble those of the Assassins, I did not steal the design from them. Hooded cloaks were just a really good way to conceal one's identity. A fact I was quick to remind him of. "I don't align with the Assassins, and you know that," I growled, poking his shoulder with a finger.

He turned to face me, a deep frown on his face. "And yet you refuse to side with the Templar Order," he said, tone annoyed.

I rolled my eyes. Again with this. "We Alphians don't want nothin' to do with your Assassin vs. Templar shenanigans. How many times must I beat this into you, Hayth?" I muttered, crossing my arms. Why couldn't he just drop it? "I've said it before and I'll say it again. Alphians ain't here to fight your Earthian wars."

"And yet, here you are. Meeting with an Assassin and Templar to find out the plans of the British in order to aid the rebels," Haythem said. "What was that about not choosing a side?"

I glared at him, then gave a burdened sighed. "Your words are harsh. But, it pains me to admit you're right," I muttered, a faint snarl of anger buried in my words. I hated it when he was right.

A smirk flashed across the Grandmaster's face, but quickly disappeared. "So, do tell. Why did you choose to aid the rebels?" he inquired, leaning against a brick wall with his arms crossed.

I shrugged as I stood in front of him. "Dunno. Freedom and all that jazz, I guess. Yeah yeah," I snapped, waving him off angrily as I saw him open his mouth. I was there when he gave Connor the spill; I didn't need to hear it again. "Freedom leads to chaos, chaos is bad, blah blah blah. But, better to live in chaos as free men than in an ordered world as slaves," I explained. Not to mention some if not most of the redcoat soldiers are absolute dickheads.

Haythem opened his mouth, no doubt to contradict my statement as per frickin usual, but a shifty looking man in dark clothes slithered up to us from the darkness. "Master Kenway?" he hissed at me in question.

I shook my head and pointed to Haythem. "That ol' geezer is Haythem," I informed the man. How could someone possibly mistake me for Grandmaster Grumpy?

His beady eyes narrowed at me. "Then who the hell are you?"

"The muffin man," I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Who the hell did he think?

Haythem shot me a glare before turning to the man. "Are you my informant?" he asked in a hushed tone.

I raised an eyebrow. This was the man with the information? Horet's teeth, informants must be scarce nowadays.

The man nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. The name's Twitch," he said.

I gave a snort as the breeze blew the smell of him my way; smelled like soured grapes left in the sun next to some rotting fish. Drunkard. "Is it because your rank makes people's noses twitch?" I asked, tone nasally as I held my nose closed with my right thumb and forefinger.

Twitch glared at me and opened his mouth, but Haythem beat him to it. "Scarlett, behave," he all but growled. Most men would wet their pats if Haythem used that tone on them, but not me. Nope. I would just snap back.

"Bite me, Gramps," I growled as I unpinched my nose, a teeth baring smirk on my face.

Haythem gave me a glare that said We'll finish this later. I stuck my tongue out at him in response. He sighed then turned to Twitchy McGee. "We need to know what the loyalists are planning, if we are to put an end to this."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hulking figure of Conner approaching. He wasn't wearing his signature white robes with blue trim; instead, he was wearing black robes with a red trim. Although massive, he was no taller than me. Probably shorter by an inch or two. While I was small by Alphians standards, for human I was a decent size and posed a credible threat to any human who (foolishly) chose to attack me.

I held out my hand to halt Connor as he began to approach his father, and the Native Assassin stopped as Twitch replied to Haythem. "I've tried," he insisted, gesticulating with his hands, "But the soldiers themselves are told nothing now, only to await orders from above."

Haythem scowled. That had not been what he wanted to hear. "Then keep digging!" he hissed, tone sharp. "Come find me when you have something worth sharing."

Twitch nodded and hurried away, casting one more glare towards me before vanishing back into the dark city.

Haythem groaned as the man left. Pacing past us, he growled, "We're so close. A few more well placed attacked and we can put an end to this civil war and be rid of the Crown."

Connor spoke up from beside me, his monotonous voice soft as usual. "What do you intend?" he asked of his father, face a lifeless mask. I could almost never tell what was going through that boy's mind; the lack of emotional expression on his face and in his tone made it far too difficult.

He was like a painting or, a more accurate description, a stone wall. Stubborn as one too. However, I could tell when he was mad. The trail of mutilated bodies was usually a pretty good indication he was pissed about something.

Haythem gave his son a heated glance. "Well nothing at the moment since we're completely in the dark," he said irritably, throwing his hands up in the universal gesture of I have no bloody clue.

"I thought the Templars had eyes and ears everywhere?" Connor said, a slightly teasing tone in his voice. He knew what he had done.

Haythem, apparently, did too. "Oh we did," he began in a bitter tone. "Until you started cutting them off." It was true; Connor had killed off many of Haythem's closest friends and advisers leaving perhaps Charles and one other. Not that I had lost any amount of sleep over it. Other than Pitcairn, who I was generally sad about, the others were Grade-A assholes.

"Your contact," Connor began, referring to Twitch. "Told us exactly what we need to do. Track down the loyalist commanders."

I nodded, seeing where he was going. Then I frowned. That was easier said than done. "How do you expect to do this, Connor? Find a lower guy and interrogate him?" I asked.

"Great idea. Scarlett, you go find one. Connor and I shall remain here," Haythem said to me.

Say what now? I glared at him, a low growl rumbling in my throat. When exactly did I volunteer to do that? Never, that's when. But... we did need the information. Cursing Haythem under my breath, I stomped off to find a man to interrogate. I vaguely felt sorry for the poor blighter I would trap; I was sure to be rough with him should he refuse to cooperate.

I walked past a darkened alley where a rough voice called, "What's got you upset, Scar?" Turning to look down the alley, I quickly recognized the massive, muscular form of Mason Riddick, better known as Ace to most. A Furyan (pronounced Fury-an), he had a nasty temper and a tendency to be a loose cannon. Privates and officers feared him, and for good reason. Mercy was a foreign concept to the blood thirsty Furyan.

"I need to find a private to interrogate," I explained, glancing around to make sure no one heard as I approached him. When I turned back to Ace, the 7'4 guy was baring his teeth in a feral grin. I narrowed my eyes. "I need him unharmed," I growled, poking him in the chest as I stressed the last word.

He huffed, but said, "Fine. I won't hurt him. But if he is uncooperative-"

"Then I will deal with him. I don't need you hacking off any limbs," I interrupted, then added, "Again.". Last time I worked with him, the uncooperative redcoat had smarted off to Ace and had gotten his left arm chopped off via Ace's axe. Nearly bled to death. In all fairness, the guy was an ass.

With a growl that brought me back to the alley, Ace frowned unhappily. He didn't argue, but walked out of the alley to find a man to question.

I waited on a nearby crate, leaning against the wall. A small coal black kitten mewed and pawed at my pants leg. Figuring he wanted some scraps, I brought out my leftovers from the rabbit I had killed on the way to New York. I picked the little kitten up and sat him on my lap. Holding the piece of meat out, I chuckled as he quickly snatched it and scarfed it down. Then he clawed his way onto my shoulder and sat there purring. I chuckled and rubbed his ears.

Not too far off I heard a muffled scream of terror. I sighed, knowing Ace had caught one. Picking the kitten off my shoulder I said softly, "Go find a dark bay horse tethered by the docks. Stay with him." Setting the kitten down, I watched as it scurried off.

Alternate Methods from Scarlett's pov. If you want to read it from a soldier's pov, go to my profile and fine The Alternate.

Let me know if you'd like to see more!