AN: This is...this is stuff. Stuff that I had in my head for a few days and needed to be written out.

Yeah, look I have no idea where I'm going with the story ^^' but from all the AC3 build-up I'm just going to dive head first into shark infested waters with this one.

I am sorry if there are things that are historically inaccurate, just let me know and I will try to change it :3

If you don't like animals, female OCs (generally everyone is going to be an OC I guess because we don't know any of the other characters), romancing with assassins or multiple chapters, I suggest you just go read something else. But I would like to know if there are readers out there for mine too xD

This first chapter is inspired by the Jesper Kyd AC3 soundtrack, "Aphelion".

Enjoy and please review!

Scarlet Letters

As a boy, I had been foretold of the Spirits living around us.

Yet as War broke out, the Land was torn by injustice and blood.

And the world I once knew became a stranger.

A lost man is a dangerous man. An undefined man is the lost man.

And as a man that is lost and undefined in a land that needs justice, I fall.

As I grow older, it feels like she is growing younger. Several years will pass before I understand the meaning of why They chose me.

The meaning, which was just the beginning.

-Ratonhnhaké:ton

1

Midnight blankets the streets of Boston during the early autumn in 1772. The moon is full and opaque in the clear night sky, casting the streets in a pasty glow. The air was crisp with the faint smell of the waters carried on the chilly breeze. It was dead of the night where the candles beside bedchambers were snuffed out and the heads were buried deeply into their pillows.

A lone guard was making his usual patrol in one of Boston's downtown avenues. His black boots tapped along the wet cobble ground as his eyes toured the dingy alleys. Having the sudden feeling that he was being watched; the guard paused his steps and lifted his eyes to rooftop beside him. The full moon perched itself on the tiles and gazed down at him. After a moment, he decided that his paranoid state was merely because he was exhausted and carried on.

An elderly, drunken man stumbled out past the pub doors and toppled over onto the back alley in front of the officer. The pub's doors swung back and forth on their hinges and the music of a jaunty violin and raucous laughter from inside spilled out into the cold air. He reeked of ale and sweat and the front of his clothes were stained with it too. The drunk man, completely out of his mind, carried on with the song inside at the top of his lungs.

The guard approached him, a gloved hand brushing up to his rifle strapped over his chest. "You there! Stop what you're doing!"

The old, drunk man sat up from where he laid sprawled on the ground. A wide, drunk grin grew on his face. "'Ello officer!" he sang merrily. He stood up on wobbly feet, and stumbled slightly until he was standing upright. He stretched both his arms out to his sides. "Care for a lil' drink?"

The guard gave the man a look of disgust. "Get back inside you scrawny bastard before you find yourself singin' in the gaol!"

The old man chuckled and eyed the guard for a moment. He took a step forward, in which he misplaced it left and found himself staggering to keep himself upright. He fell, right in front of the guard. His hand caught the guards shirt front to keep himself up right. "Y'know whats wrong with you lot?" the old man slurred, looking up at the officer with unfocused eyes. "Six years ago my son went to the gaol. My wife an' I tried to give you lot the coin to get him out but you know what y'did?"

He jabbed a long, crooked and dirty finger at the officer. "Yous already sent 'im off! To get killed in your lil' war! I never said good luck to him you sonuvabitch!" The old man trembled with tears blurring his vision. "I never got to say good bye. My wife and I never saw our son again."

The guards eyes burned with rage. "How dare you assault an officer!" He sent a hard kick to the man's chest and with an 'oomph!' the old man double overed in pain.

The old man clutched his stomach, coughing. He could feel the alcohol subsiding and the pain kicking in as his eyes watered. He looked up to the guard with wide eyes and vaguely remembered the figure behind him. His dark eyes fell to rifle in the guards hand and the fear choked him. "Now, now," he wheezed softly. "There's no need to go that far! I'm an old man, you see! Killing me won't solve anything!"

"No. Yet killing a fool will make it one less to deal with." The guard snarled.

"Please. I have a family, a wife to go home to!"

The guard chuckled. "Then you should've thought of them before you're drinking problem." He raised his rifle above his head and the old man cowered underneath him. "You should be thanking me. As I am putting you out of your misery."

The man covered his face with his arms and braced himself for the onslaught of pain. But the pain never came and the first thing that went through the man's head was that he had been killed in one blow. He opened his eyes and glanced down at his body, patting it to make sure and then slowly raised them to the officer.

The rage in the officer's eyes slowly changed with widening with surprise. His arm was still outstretched above his head with his rifle in his hand. A tip of a blade was produced from his neck and with an audible shnnk noise, extracted from his flesh. Blood poured from the wound and the officer gurgled out a noise before the crimson swallowed his tongue and spilled from his mouth. The guards eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed heavily onto the ground, already dead.

The old man's eyes widened at the dead body crumpled in front of him. Crimson pooled underneath the officer's neck. The old man staggered backwards until he landed on his behind. A man dressed in strange white hooded robes stood in the officer's place, dropping his a blood stained hand to his side. The moon caught the man's nose and jaw as the rest of his face was shrouded in the shadows of his hood. The old man's heart hammered in his chest. "Y-you just-" he choked, watching in both fear and gratitude up at the stranger. "Dear God! You just – just –"

Though the old man could not see his eyes, he met the hooded man's gaze. His entire body went rigid under his stare and his words died in his throat. He swallowed dryly and the hooded man turned suddenly and began to walk away.

"W-wait!" the old man called out to the hooded man. He stumbled up, his mind sobering but not enough. "What is your name, kid? I want to thank my saviour!"

The hooded man paused in his steps and considered to answer. He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Go home to your wife," his deep voice rolled over his shoulder.

Before the old man knew it, the hooded man turned away and the Boston night swallowed him whole.