I really have no excuse for this. The strange need to read Assassin's Creed (XD oh my God...I had to) fics have effectively given birth to this...whatever it is. I don't own Assassin's Creed, but I do own my characters. For the first five chapters, I'll be introducing them. The other guys will show up later. Edit: For some reason, I had put a Templar rank for an Assassin. My bad.
Assassin's Creed: Legacies
Chapter 1: Shane, 2015
He hadn't known about the baby.
He was supposed to eliminate someone named Kennish, and his wife, if she was with him. They weren't Templars, but they provided information about the various Brotherhood compounds, and a few names of Brothers and Sisters to the cross-wearing bastards, though only God knew how. At any rate, they were marked, and the sole Master Assassin who lived at his compound sent him to take care of them.
Getting into the house had been easy, all considering. No guards, which meant less blood spilled, and the place really wasn't as big as it could have been. Still, there were security cameras to think about, and finding a point of entry. A window that was left open had sufficed.
He crept down the hallway, ears open for any hint of movement. He couldn't really see in the strangely pitch-black hallway, and lacked the Eagle Vision a few members in the compound possessed, but he managed to find his targets without running into problems. Kennish was talking on a cell phone, his back to the door. The wife was on the bed, reading, or at least pretending to. She was holding the book, but her eyes didn't move and she never turned the page.
"-ean, they're not ready yet? It's been six weeks!" He tilted his head slightly, interest piqued. Kennish listened for a moment, then snarled, "These people know I've been talking to you. It's a miracle we're still alive!" He smirked.
They have no idea...
Kennish's shoulders squared, and he belted out language even he would cringe at. He resisted the urge to laugh. The fool had just guaranteed the Templars' refusal to help him, not that it mattered. All he had to do was wait for the call to end.
The wife had given up all pretense of reading, and was watching her husband. She was obviously scared. He didn't care. She had informed on his Brothers and Sisters along with her husband (or at the very least not tried to stop him), and thus deserved her punishment. The fact that she was a woman didn't bother him; he'd killed women before.
"Fuck!" Kennish slammed the phone shut and threw it away from him. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, pacing in front of the window. His wife watched silently. "We're on our own. They can't protect us."
"Or won't," she replied, softly. Kennish's head shot up to look at her, eyes wild. He storms over to the bed, placing his hands on either side of her. "You did call him a-"
"Shut up! Just shut up! Do you have any idea how much trouble we're in?!" The wife calmly stared back. He had to admit, he was a little impressed.
"As a matter of fact, I do. We knew what we were getting into when we talked, didn't we? I still don't know why we got in the middle of their fight, though."
There. He'd gotten confirmation, even if it didn't matter. He slid the Hidden Blade out and walked silently into the room. Both were too busy staring the other down to notice him.
He came up behind Kennish and sank the blade into his flesh, in the place where his neck met his body. The man slumped without a sound. His wife caught it in the same place, but in the front. She, too, died silently, but with a look of surprise and terror.
He turned to leave, sliding the blade back into place. The hallway was dark, as before. He had no trouble going back the way he came. But halfway, he stopped.
He'd never be able to say exactly what made him freeze later on. There was no noise. But for some reason, he opened the door to his right and stepped in.
It was a nursery, complete with the box of baby toys and a crib set against the wall. He should have known, or guessed at least. They were married and bound to be...intimate with each other. He move to the crib and looked in.
A baby boy slept soundly, a little fist jammed into his mouth. He clutched a red blanket. The boy looked less than a year old, but what did he know? He'd never been around children this young before. He never had any younger siblings.
He felt pity for the boy. It wasn't his fault his parents had done something unforgivable, thus leaving him an orphan. He wondered why they had done so, knowing the Brotherhood would retaliate?
Oh, well. What's done is done. Still, what should he do? Leaving him sounded pretty good; he was bound to have relatives to take care of him, ones who most likely didn't create deals with Templars.
Still, though. There was always a possibility he was related to some. Should he...?
The boy's eyes slowly opened. He held even stiller, hoping the baby would go back to sleep. Instead, he turned his small head to look directly into his own eyes. The boy's were a light green shade. He didn't scream or start crying. He just looked.
Something in him broke. Without thinking about the consequences, he scooped the baby into his arms and just left, taking only the blanket to wrap the boy up in. He had a little difficulty getting out the window, but managed without dropping his...what? Captive?
No. There was no point in that. Possible initiate? Maybe.
He dropped soundlessly to the ground, then paused, looking back up at the window. Why hadn't he just used the back door? Shaking his head, he jumped over the gate and walked the three blocks to his car, parked in a dark alley.
The baby was quiet. He looked down at him and not-quite-smiled. He grinned back, missing a few teeth. He found it odd the baby wasn't screaming his head off. He knew he would be if a strange, hooded, and masked man had taken him from his home to God knows where.
"You're a strange, kid, you know that?" The boy simply yawned, then nestled into him, clutching the fabric of his jacket. He held him a little closer, unconsciously.
The car was right where he left it, and with no damage done. After checking the backseat for anyone who may be hiding there, he climbed in behind the wheel. He paused again.
"Shit." He couldn't drive with a kid in his lap. Okay, well he could, but he probably would get pulled over. And he didn't have a car seat. He glanced at the passenger seat, then at the baby. Gently, he placed the baby in the seat, pulling the blanket up a bit so it covered his belly and neck, then put the seat belt on him.
He knew he shouldn't have done that, but he needed to leave and the kid would be safe enough until they got the compound, right? He started the car, then drove off before he could think about it. He really needed to stop doing that.
They reached their destination about two thirty in the morning; they'd left at midnight. His little passenger had needed a, er, changing and he'd spent a while trying to figure out how to put on a diaper. The girl at the register had given him a knowing smirk as he paid for the needed supplies in cash. Luckily, the baby had wrapped his blanket around himself so that she couldn't see what he looked like.
It took a few attempts, but he finally got the thing on him. By that point, he was certain the child was laughing at him, even though he didn't make a sound. Odd.
As he entered, a man approached the car, gun in hand. He relaxed a little when he recognized him.
"Friske. You're late."
"I...picked up someone." The man smirked, then waved him on. He didn't really lie, per say. He just left out a crucial detail or two. He left the car with the other vehicles and went to find the one who gave him the mission. He'd want to know.
He found the man in his study, still awake for some reason. He looked up when Friske entered, raising an eyebrow. He stayed quiet as he was told everything.
"So, you just...took this baby?" He said after a minute. Friske nodded. "Why?"
"One less Templar. I thought if I had left him there, they would have taken him instead. Despite his parents."
"And...you want to keep him?"
"Yes." Not the slightest hesitation.
"The police will be looking for him."
"They won't find him." The two stared at each other.
"I suppose you're right," he said after three minutes. "The boy's your responsibility. We'll take care of the training, but you handle everything else. Understand?"
"I'm twenty-eight, sir, not a child. I know." The man scoffed a bit.
"If you say so. What are you going to name him? We can't call him 'boy' every time we see him."
Friske thought for a minute. His father's name came to mind immediately, though he hadn't really known the man. He had been killed in some kind of accident when Friske was four. He'd been raised by his mother and the Brothers who'd handled his training. Still, he could remember a few things about him.
The thing Friske remembered most was his eyes. They were the same color as the baby's. Maybe that's why he took him, now that he thought about it.
"Shane," he decided. "His name's Shane."
Sorry if it seems rushed. I'm not sure if Master Assassins can send people on missions, but since everybody's scattered, they have to have some kind of leader. I'll fix it if I need to.