A/N: So this is another story I will be working on haha. Still, Cherik because I'm an X-Men dork, but I wanted to test something. I've been a long time gamer junkie for the Assassin's Creed series (have played all the games) and saw the movie with Fassbender in it when it first came out. So. I thought why not try a crossover? I've never done one and it's going to be a hell of a ride writing it, but I think it will be fun.

I will say it will take me a bit to get Erik's character down. I've been so used to Charles that I will have to shift a lot haha. I kind of made him more sarcastic and accidentally sassy in the first few chapters I am writing.

I do plan on posting this story on AO3 after I finish editing chapter 2 in case some of you prefer that site (I kind of do myself personally.)

Well, have a wonderful day. :)

I don't own X-Men or the Assassin's Creed series.

Chapter 1

He liked to test his limits sometimes. See how far he could go without a mess up. It was entertaining, if not a bit daring. His ambitions rarely allowed otherwise which might have been the reason things tended to end up like they did. The reason they had ended up like they had. He liked extending past his limits too much, and sometimes the consequences were those he wasn't even aware of when he thought of them, but something larger and more revoking than possible.

Well, it was too late now, but it didn't hurt to ponder it.

…...

-16 Years Old-

His foot slipped as he hopped onto the wire.

"Too close," He thought, whistling to himself at the rough 40 feet below that could have crippled him if given the chance.

Maybe crippling was putting it lightly.

He shrugged to himself, not really caring for the technicalities of it. It didn't matter now. In all honesty, it most definitely would have killed him, but best not to dwell on the consequences. They hadn't happened after all. He was good to continue.

He knew what he was doing. He wasn't going to fall. Not today. He hadn't failed yet, and he wasn't going to start now. He would be personally embarrassed for his skill if he did. Nothing short of success was allowed for him at this point.

Taking a leap, he rolled onto the next building and exhaled at the crash that met him. He wouldn't get bruises from it this time around, though. He had done this too many times to count. Jumping onto things he shouldn't be on. "Talking smack," as some like to say, to people he should probably avoid. Seeking the limits. Sticking a few fingers to test the waters. It wasn't anything new to him.

He liked pushing buttons and pushing limits. Today just seemed like the day to pull both.

The sun was just about to peak over the horizon. It was just about to push its way over, and he had a goal to be somewhere just before it did.

Sprinting across the rooftop, he jumped onto the wall of the bell tower to the local church he didn't even attend and proceeded to climb his way up. He knew the stones like the back of his hand. His hands knew where to dig into and which to only land on for a second. Perhaps the reason some of the bricks stood out so easily was because of him. The way his nails dug into the dirt and dust crusted stones, chipping them by the end of his trek if he didn't cut them on a regular basis. The momentarily way he felt as if he was flying when he leaped from one to another, sliding, skipping, reaching until he got to the top.

It was amazing if you wanted that fresh rush of the morning. Perfect if you were solitary.

That being said, Erik Lehnsherr was and wanted both so this suited him wonderfully.

Once his hands reached the shingles, he did the mental prayer he murmured every morning that they didn't slip from his weight. In all the three years he had been doing this they never faltered, but he'd be damned to test it now. He had nightmares that one of these days they would, and his mother would scold him even after death for his idiocy.

Having your mother, who was usually all smiles and sunshine, suddenly turn into a force to reckon with, a wooden spoon in one hand and a stern face? It was a rather frightening image. He should know. He had tested it many times.

But the shingle remained, thank God. Sturdy as ever. Whoever did this was a good worker that Erik could probably praise if he was even alive now. Thank him for his work that was able to keep the boy from an intense scolding later on.

Everything was forgotten when he felt the difference.

It all began with how the wind would sort through his short hair thoroughly as he stood.

Wasn't that a feeling: standing on top of the world and watching as the earth gave a slow, silent breath of life as it decided to turn over.

It felt like a moment of power, of knowing a hell of a lot more than he probably did. It was exhilarating, and Erik loved it every morning he felt it. It was, after all, the reason he came back time after time for three years straight.

His mother would have a heart attack if she knew. His father might actually hold some pride in him but would ultimately side with his mother because no one liked being on the angry, mother hen side of her. Not even his father who was significantly taller and stronger (Erik really had no room to judge there when even he would cower if he saw her scowl.)

But they didn't know so all was well. It was fine. The less they knew the happier everyone would be.

His eyes watched over the sleeping town, seeing how very little had changed since he went to bed and how very little continued to change when he was wide awake.

The shadows that hadn't yet shifted. The way the grass barely shuffled unless by luck of the draw. How no person, animal, thing dared to stir or even show its presence. It was magnificent. Glorious.

And something he had been experiencing for as long as he was able to climb these walls.

He sat on the edge of the roof, facing the town and watching as the sun rose on the horizon. No cloud in the sky. No storms either. It was just beautiful and alone. Erik wasn't one to be poetic or nearly so metaphorical in his descriptions (it seemed to avoid the topic too much. Bluntness was more effective) but he probably could excuse his girly wording for the time being.

Hours might have passed. It didn't really matter if they did. He didn't have any chores to attend to, no work to help with. This was a quiet town. Nothing really happened here.

It was when things actually did happen that it stuck out like a sore thumb begging for inspection.

The "sore thumb" of this day was when he saw men in four groups of five split up from the church he was at. He found himself a little curious as anyone would be.

Who were these people? They definitely were not part of the town. Their clothing was too clean and pristine for this place. They had a sort of haughty, "I-Know-What-I'm-Doing" walk that claimed they were there for a reason. But this only made more questions occur. Why were they here? What was the purpose? Were their intentions good or bad? Should he rush home or should he remain here and wait it out?

He didn't like these at all. How questionable the people were. It was always best to assume negatively unless proven otherwise. If Erik were to assume they were "bad," then he could proceed from there.

But for all their mysterious appearance gave, they didn't look anything more or less than neutral. They didn't look any different than most posh people except for the red crosses that were on every single one of their jackets. Now, that was something to remember. Something to note for future reference.

What did the cross signify? A clan? Gang? Cult? A religion even? Either way, it wasn't good. The only reason any of those people would be here would be to convert, and not nicely mind you, or to look for someone.

So they were bad. Good to know.

He was about to jump down the tower when he thought he heard a faint scream in the distance and a single gunshot.

The cold dread escalated to freezing when he heard screams and shouts from the direction of his home.

Suddenly the image of his stern mother with a wooden spoon didn't make her look threatening but vulnerable. You shouldn't bring a knife to a gun fight as they say and kitchen utensils were given the same treatment here if those people were anything to go by.

She was in danger or at least she was going to be if he didn't get there as soon as he could. His father should be there, but he didn't know if his father had any inkling of defense for these sorts of people. How could you expect this to happen? In a small town like this, nothing ever happened.

It was supposed to be quiet. It was supposed to remain quiet.

Faster than he thought he could move and with more accuracy than he was ever graced with, he climbed down the tower and began jumping from rooftop to rooftop. His shadow chased him with as much desperation as its legs would allow, the sun making them longer but no faster. He needed to be faster.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

There was a certain clenching in his teeth his mother liked to chide him for, claiming it would ruin his lovely teeth, but it hardly mattered with the tension. There were more screams now. And smoke. Smoke in all directions and while he would love to help everyone if he could, he had his priorities.

He felt that gave him an excuse. It had to give him one.

But speed didn't matter. It never mattered. What mattered was timing and speed could never predict that.

…...

-12 Years Later-

The lights were way too bright. The kind of brightness that came with drinking twice your body weight in liquor (or attempt to anyway) and then realize the next morning just how much you screwed up. A piercing, scream-worthy light that made Erik Lehnsherr want to cringe into the stretcher that was dragging him across some hallway he had never seen in his life.

It was a modern hallway. Glass windows adorned one side from floor to ceiling and on the other side were a few doors, all that seemed to either use a card or had a keypad. It didn't make sense why the lights had to be so bright when there were so many damn windows, but then again there wasn't anything that was making sense in this place.

Things like why he was here or how they knew where he was or if they were here to get him because of some things he did in the past. He had already tried asking – three times for equal measure, of course – and all he got was a few grunts and an applaudable backhand when he decided to give a little more cheek than was necessary. Their lack of an answer wasn't reassuring. Clearly, this place was meant to keep people in – never to let them out. A place that erased you.

Well, it wasn't like Erik had much left in his life anyways. Perhaps this would bring some excitement. Though being tied down and hostage wasn't exactly his forte but beggars couldn't be choosers. This was significantly more interesting than lingering in his flat any day – even if the people were terrible company and he was in the worst mood of his lifetime.

You're wasting time, Erik. Thinking too much. You'll miss something. The gruff voice of his father echoed in his mind and he sighed, relenting his unamused, borderline sarcastic mood to his old routine. His father was correct after all, even if the man wasn't around.

He had to gauge his situation. See if he can make an estimate as to how long it would take to get out of this place. Perhaps he should even place a bet against himself. If he was correct by a margin of an hour he would treat himself to a nice glass of scotch when he got out. The good stuff, too. None of that Bruichladdich X4 shit but the Glenmorangie 10-Year-Old.

If not, well, then he had whatever cheap stuff was in the cabinet.

… It was the small things in life that gave him joy.

So, let's see what we have here, he thought to himself, glancing at the men with an eagle's scrutiny.

They were armed soldiers. Well, he said soldiers but they looked more like little boys who played far too much Call-Of-Duty and therefore deemed themselves worthy of the real thing. Of course, Erik didn't say this out loud. He knew not to judge someone by their looks – mostly from experience in the consequences, really – and he didn't quite want to test these men out (one backhand was enough thank you very much.)

A hum rang throughout the place. Not a human hum but the hum of electricity. The kind that came with having technology so intense that a sound had to be made. It vibrated through Erik's being and a part of him was antsy from it.

Despite what he said earlier, he wasn't excited about this place. In fact, he was more than a little agitated that for some reason soldiers barged into his quaint apartment and decided to drag him here – drug dosage included.

He hadn't done anything illegal. At least, nothing that anyone could trace. Sure he took a few odd jobs here and there, but he was a fairly "nice" citizen. The typical "nice neighbor" kind of guy that occasionally helped fix the flat if asked or bought groceries for the elderly when he had nothing better to do for the day. Nothing like the man that went on a vengeance spree almost 3 years ago. He had a somewhat life, a somewhat home, and a somewhat average sense of living. Nothing menacing and criminal.

But by the looks of these men, all armed far more than the others he had seen, they had caught wind of his past and were prepared for it. Everything from masks to body armor. It was equal parts hilarious and concerning. Hilarious because when Erik tried to imagine them running after him, all he saw was a confused jumble of misplaced steps as they balanced both weapon and the weight on their bodies. One misstep and timber.

It wasn't all humor, however. Even if the men (or women. He didn't know with the masks) were slow and steady with their armor, that didn't mean they were any less a good shot. He could run, but if any of them were a marksman, his chances were as good as gone. Shot. Literally.

So playing nice was the best way to go for now. Act all innocent and non-threatening and wait for the opportune chance to strike. The "it wasn't like I was going to do anything" routine. It had a 23 percent chance of working because of his build and intimidating form, but those were chances he could work with.

Erik was in the middle of considering escape routes when he heard another set of shoes – heels specifically if their piercing taps gave anything away.

A female was walking up. A little too prissy for Erik's tastes, but he wasn't necessarily trying to swoon her. Pinned up blonde hair, pursed-up lips, a walk that made it known that she owned the place without actually owning the place – Erik didn't really like her. Not immediately. She had the "I'm the head of an organization but not the head" vibe that made Erik's hands twitch for a knife that wasn't there. She was off. This entire place was off.

If only he knew why he was here, then maybe he could talk his way – or rather show his way – out of here.

But in his history with these type of people, they didn't give any information away unless they were going to give the typical villain monologue before disposing of you.

Waiting was the best option, but damn it did he hate it.

"Hello, Erik. I see that you are awake. Good."

Would be better if I wasn't in this stretcher I assure you. Erik wanted to say but decided to ask the usual questions.

"Who are you?" The woman smiled at his words as if she had heard this multiple times. She probably had. It wasn't exactly encouraging to his situation. "How do you know my name? I don't remember our introduction though maybe it's because we never had one. I think I would remember a fake-blond haired woman who looked like she took a bite of a lemon and kept it as her face. You know. Just saying."

The soldiers moved (probably to knock him unconscious) but she held up a hand and they stopped. The smile was still on her face but it was strained. She didn't like him. Good. He didn't like her either. Glad they could come to an agreement in this place.

Her words were clipped the next time she spoke. "You are not in a position to be asking those questions. Just know that you are safe and that you should comply with our demands. Everything will go smoother then."

"What is your definition of smoother?" Erik couldn't help but ask, eyes narrowing as she just laughed and motioned the guards to continue moving him along.

There was a door at the end of the hallway. The woman swiped her card and it opened, revealing an expansive room. Windows covered half the room from floor to ceiling – an impressive almost 2 stories in height – though they didn't show some stunning skyline or the even the sky period. No, all that was seen were more buildings with more windows.

So this wasn't just one building – probably a corporation. Erik could deal with those if time permitted him. This wasn't the first time.

But he wasn't focused on getting out. Not yet. That was what they would be expecting of him. For now, he would comply, see what their angle was, and then continue. Wait.

The woman walked ahead of the stretcher to a cot-like machine. It had strong lights aimed at the curved surface above it, and a tablet was attached to the far corner – to which the woman had quickly adjusted to. The thrum Erik felt earlier surged from this machine, and he had to blink the pain away that came to his head when the soldiers led him to it.

As they got nearer, he was able to hear her a little. For the most part, she was pressing buttons or swiping something or another, but after a while, she muttered a few words that sounded like "Not Desmond this time. Later on."

Who was Desmond? Another person here? From the sound of it, he sounded like another victim. Good. Maybe if he had the same ambition as Erik, he could find him and grill him on everything he knew. He could be a potential informant or even a potential "friend" in getting out of this place.

With a final swipe, she motioned at the soldiers. "Please place Mr. Lehnsherr on the Animus if you will." Something hard was slapped on Erik's wrists when they freed him from the stretcher. They were something not quite like the cuffs he was used to. They were steel that had the same logo he kept seeing throughout the building, a triangle shaped icon but made out of three bars not quite connecting to the other. A light kept blinking off and on through the symbol. Seeing how high tech this place was so far, he wouldn't be getting out of those.

He had to make them trust him. Which also meant he would have to actually stay here.

Wonderful.

The soldiers lifted him and placed him on the machine rather gently. Special treatment? Doubtful. The machine must cost more than whatever paycheck he or they could get from odd jobs or hits.

"Why am I here?" Erik asked but the woman didn't even give him a glance.

"All in due time, Mr. Lehnsherr. I just have to adjust a few things. Usually, we have our subjects non-confined on the Animus, but it is clear to both of us that you are not one of those privileged subjects." She hummed to herself and then typed something on the keyboard. "You will have to answer a few things for me. Clarification purposes."

"Clarification purposes?" He repeated and sighed. "I don't give answers to those who won't answer my own questions."

"Well, then I guess we will be here for a long time, now won't we?"

Erik didn't say anything, working against his body wanting to relax on this "animus" thing.

He shouldn't relax. If he was to relax then he would be at a disadvantage. His father's teachings came back to him. Having him climb, fight, counter, simple tactics that were tested to the extreme with real weapons and full force. None of those allowed him to rest for a second. This should still be the case now.

Maybe if he answered their questions, he could get out of this machine quicker. It would keep him from getting too comfortable.

"Fine. Shoot."

"Wonderful." She hummed to herself and swiped something on the screen. "Your name is Erik Lehnsherr. You are approximately 31 years old. You have been in 5 different foster homes in the course of the 2 years before you became of age – three of them involving you being in juvie due to theft. A troublesome child indeed."

"I'm not sure your definition of 'questions' and mine are the same thing here," Erik retorted.

"If I am correct, I never said I was going to ask you questions. Just that I wanted you to answer a few things. There is a difference, Mr. Lehnsherr. It could just be confirmation, not information gathering, you see." There was an attitude in her voice. Lovely. Erik found another reason not to like her. That would make things easier when he would have to escape this place. "Now if I could continue."

She took a breath. "At the age of nineteen, you went off the grid. No one knew where you were or what you were doing. Ten years later you resurface and are suddenly a nice man without the same attributes as when you were younger."

"What can I say? Maturity definitely changed a few things. Hit me like a bullet, and I corrected my wrong ways to make up for the injury."

"I'm sure you did," she droned, obviously not believing his words at all. It was worth a shot. He wasn't going to give her the actual answer, after all. "What actually happened in those ten years?"

"I thought you already knew judging by the men around here. They are surely not dressed for the typical subject. Kind of like you expect a criminal, wouldn't you say?"

"People like you are criminals, Erik. Violence-driven men and women who can't seem to keep innocent blood off their hands." Erik found his teeth biting his tongue as memories of his not too distant past resurfaced. A 9 millimeter. Two men gagged and bound to a chair. The hatred and fear in their eyes. The crosses around their neck. It set a metal taste in his mouth. "Doing things that this society doesn't need. One day you are a troubled kid seething on some topic psychiatrists couldn't force out of you, and the next you are at peace and one with society. Something happened, Erik. A catalyst erupted and started something. What you are now is simply the ending of that fuse."

"What makes you think I would want to tell you if I didn't want to tell even those who mentally dissected my head? You're just looking for a past that doesn't and shouldn't exist. As far as you're concerned, I changed. That is all that happened. Nothing more."

The look she gave was vicious and if they had powers of spontaneous combustion, he would have been reduced to ashes in a heartbeat. Erik had a feeling she was used to getting what she wanted when she wanted it, something that Erik surely wasn't used to or about to conform to. So far she hadn't impressed him enough to even give a percentage of his past. The clasps and soldiers were not helping either. It didn't take a genius to see that he may suffer from trust issues.

After a minute, she sighed and pressed a few buttons. The clasps holding Erik were released but being the good little puppet that he was, he decided to stay put. He was curious why she stopped whatever she was going to do.

"Tests are going to be delayed. Take Mr. Lehnsherr to his new quarters."

One of the men hesitated as the other two forced him up. "What of Mr. Rikkin's orders?"

"Tell him that I will perform a session later on today. We need a compliant subject. I have a plan. That's it."

"Yes, ma'am."

Waltzing over to him, he offered her a crooked grin. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Didn't get what you asked for?"

"Oh, I always get what I intend to retrieve, Erik. It's all in a matter of time, and quite frankly I'd rather retrieve evidence from you living than from a one-time deal corpse." Pulling out a syringe from the white lab coat she had on (and when had she put that on? He was getting rusty it seemed) she inserted the needle in his neck and pushed the plunger.

It was a sedative. He knew it was going to be the second they didn't strap him down to the stretcher again. There was little he could do to stop it from affecting him since he was better at physical action than building an immunity to drugs so he just waited it out.

The woman sighed at him in disappointment. "I have great things in store for you, Erik. Great things and it could benefit you too if you would only let them." She patted his cheek fondly. He would have flinched but his vision was already becoming a pin prick. Whatever was given to him was definitely fast acting. "But I have all the time in the world so take your time to see that. In here, you are valuable. A gem really. Out there? You're nothing. Might as well try to become something while you still can."