Dead.
All of them.
But how?
How had only three managed to kill twelve?
The young British major Brian Anderson was at an unfortunate loss as he cowered next to his fellow officers. Henry Stevenson and Richard Smith, both of the men captains, were no doubt as confused as he what had just happened. They had failed in killing their ambushers, and the three assailants had mercilessly killed off the entire guard. Well… two of the assailants had mercilessly killed their men. The other had used a bit of a different modus operandi.
One of the ambushers was an Assassin. A fact obvious from the flowing black robes and blades that seemed to spring from his very wrists. Well build, broad shouldered, and towering, the Assassin had mowed through the soldiers who had set upon him with seemingly no effort. Major Anderson had heard of what this particular Assassin had done, and the tales had chilled him to the core. The man had, according to some rumors, killed Major Pitcairn at the Battle of Bunker Hill. How he had managed to get past all of the soldiers, sneak into the camp, and kill Major Pitcairn without getting killed further befuddled Major Anderson.
The older gentleman, if he could even be called such a pleasant term as gentleman, was more familiar to Major Anderson. Haythem Kenway, the grandmaster of the Colonial Templars. Who hadn't heard of him? His ruthless nature and brutal tactics had surfaced more than once among the soldier and his fellows. The major had never met the man face to face, and he certainly didn't ever want to. Yet here he was, cowering at the man's feet. Of the three assailants, the major feared him perhaps the most.
The final assailant was somewhat of a mystery to the major. Neither Assassin nor Templar, the major would have thought the person simply a strange colonist who had decided to aid the Assassin and Templar. But something in his gut told him that wasn't so. Maybe it was how the attacker had taken down the troops. Apart from one Scotsman at the start of the skirmish, this particular attacker had not killed any of Major Anderson's men. Instead, they had used more of an overpower and subdue tactic, disarming then knocking out any soldier they went after. It may have been Major Anderson's imagination, but he could have sworn the black cloaked figure winked at him earlier. Just before they had winked at him, Major Anderson had witnessed them sparing a young soldier who had begged not to be killed.
Or maybe it was the acrobatic trick of running up the wall and flipping over the head of their attacker. That took years of practice to master, no doubt. More years than the colonists had been at war with the King.
The warrior moved in battle in a way that reminded Major Anderson of one of the massive tan furred felines out on the frontier: quick and lithe, yet extremely powerful. Powerhouse was no understatement in regards to this opponent. They were taller than most if not all of the soldiers who now laid on the ground unconscious or dead. Yet… rather than using brute force and kill the men, which would have been easier, they inflicted as little damage as possible. They had seemly avoided all injury as well. A simple colonist would not have been able to achieve that. No, this person was something else entirely.
Major Anderson's thoughts were cut short as Haythem Kenway strode regally up to them. He looked as if he had not just killed four plus men, but was entertaining a king as a guest in a grand palace instead of a burnt shell of a building. "Good evening gentlemen," he said, tone mockingly polite yet utterly dangerous. "If you would be so kind as to enlighten us on your troop movements, we'll do this the easy way."
Major Anderson, along with the Captain Stevenson and Captain Smith, remained silent. They knew the penalty for giving up secrets. They would not give these rebels the answers they wanted. They were loyal to King and Country, unlike these damned rebels. Shaking their heads, the officers refused.
The man sighed in mock despair. "Very well. I had hoped to do this the easy way, but you forced my hand." His words were cold and dark, hinting that the officers had made a very wrong decision.
A gnawing sense of fear took root in the pit of Major Anderson's stomach. He glanced at Captain Stevenson, who wore the same scared look on his face. What does that mean? What is he going to do to us? Suddenly, refusing to tell what he knew seemed like a really bad idea to the major.
Haythem turned to face the hooded figure. "Scarlett?" he asked, the name shocking the major. Surely, this wasn't the Scarlett Hyde. It couldn't be. If it was, then she wouldn't have spared those men she had. Scarlett took no prisoners and showed no mercy. Besides, Scarlett's species, Alphians, sported a tail and inhuman ears. Where were they?
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on, Grandmaster Grumpy." At that growled answer, Major Anderson realized it was indeed her. No one else would dare take that tone with Haythem Kenway. At least no one smart. Haythem had quite an evil reputation, but Scarlett came in pretty close behind. Her accent was strange. It was like that of someone from one of the southern colonies fused with someone from the Appalachian Mountains with a hint of Scottish accent buried deep within. There was something else as well. Something foreign, something intriguing. Not to mention chilling.
It reminded the major of the wild places of the night. Alphians were part animal after all. Major Anderson was slightly surprised when he felt a slight vibrating sensation within his chest. It was the first female he had ever encountered that had a voice that resonated the way hers did, or even resonated for that matter. Most of the women he had encountered had a soft, submissive quality to their speech. But not Scarlett apparently. Her tone held a dominate quality that demanded respect. As if her abilities didn't demand enough already.
A low groan from the female brought Major Anderson back from his musings. "Guess someone forgot to take his nap." She sounded stressed as she reached to pull something from her cloak. The major felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of the coils of rope in the icy eyed warrior's hands. He was not a coward by any means; however, the thought of having his hands bound was more than a little worrying. Especially since it meant he would be helpless against the three attackers.
Scarlett walked towards Captain Smith after handing the coils of rope to the Templar Grandmaster. She reached down and took hold of his right arm. She pulled him to his feet, only letting go when she seemed certain he was able to stand on his own two feet. She turned to pull Captain Stevenson to his feet, but the man was already on his feet, along with the major. She was still, ice blue eyes boring into Captain Stevenson. Then she gave a small, strangely disappointed sigh and heading to block their escape to the right.
Captain Stevenson was obviously fearful of the warrior, flinching as she gave his shoulder a passing pat. The man, though not a coward, had a tendency to be skittish when unable to fight back. And who wouldn't be? The feeling of being at another's mercy was not a pleasant sensation by any means. Especially if they were your enemy during a war. Especially if they were Scarlett Hyde.
Major Anderson flinched as she passed, the warrior giving him a pat as well. Why did she do that? Was it teasing, in the sense that she was going to play around with them like a cat would a mouse? Or meant to be comforting in the It's Going to Be Alright sense? The major hoped the later, despite all the things he had heard pointing to the former option. As she passed, he noticed she was taller than himself and more broad-shouldered. That fact slightly distressed him. Shorter than girl… unheard of! But this wasn't any girl; a fact he shouldn't be quick to forget.
Haythem approached Major Anderson then, rope ready to bind the major's wrists. Realizing any resistance was futile and would no doubt get him abused via hit or worse, Major Anderson held his wrists out. He kept his eyes down allowed the older man and killer to bind his wrists. Haythem then moved on to Captain Stevenson, the poor man flinching at the tight bonds. The major desperately began picking at the knot. He had to get away, had to warn someone. The major knew enough about Haythem to know that once they had given up what they knew, the man would kill the officers. Scarlett probably intended to as well. Major Anderson felt panic well up at the thought of death. He didn't want to die. Unknown to his men, he was just as scared in combat as they were.
Suddenly, Major Anderson felt his skin prickle. He paused in his knot picking and swallowed. His stomach churned with nervous fear. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. It's almost as if someone is… watching me. Oh God. Please don't be looking at me... please don't be looking at me. Hesitantly, he looked up and towards Scarlett.
She was staring straight at him.
Shit!
Different point of view than what you're used to in AC 3, huh?
Experimenting with traditionally unseen views is quite fun sometimes. Interesting to get in their head and see things from their point of view. Feel their fear, experience their panic, and have your heart pound right alongside theirs. Also, if you name a character and give them a backstory and personality of sorts, they're no long a simple background character you kill off. They are a character you can get attached to and relate to. (So now of course I bloody flinch whenever 'Brian Anderson' gets killed. Kudos to me.)
Let me know if you'd like to see more!
*I was unsure of how ranks go, but what I could tell from different sites Brian is above Richard and Henry.
Scarlett is MINE! The Brits personality and name wise are mine, but the initial character isn't.
