One- Dakota

I opened my eyes to bright light all around me. I felt the hard surface I was laying on underneath of me. I gasped in a deep breath and made to sit up quickly, only to smack my face off of the glass coffin that surrounded me. My face had left a bloodied mark on the glass, and I realized it was from the corner of my eye. I looked around me, seeing the faces of attending nurses waiting for the glass to lift away from my body. I turned my head to see out into the lab where Doctor Means had a smile approval, and Colt had crossed arms and a smirk. Beside them stood a trembling Roger, but he too had a smile. The glass lifted from me, and the nurses went to work pulling out IV's and taking off my heart monitoring patches.

I brought myself to a sitting position, legs dangling off the edge of the table. Every part of my body ached. Half of my body ached from all of the physical exhaustion of my past missions while the other half ached from not being moved at all for weeks at a time. I stretched my arms upwards, twisted my back left and right, straightened my legs out and rolled my ankles around. Things popped and cracked as I stretched.

I felt unfamiliar to my body once again; only such an odd out-of-body-but-in-body experience as time travel can do to a person. No one would know about this sensation, or the extreme sickness it can cause as your body begins to reject itself. Luckily, my body was beginning to condition to the process of positive and negative atom separation. I slowly got myself to my feet and started walking to my apparent entourage.

The first person I went too was Roger, throwing my arms around him.

"Welcome back," Roger said.

"Thank you," I whispered, "I think we need to talk."

"We will," Roger nodded.

Doctor Means clasped his hand on my back when Roger and I pulled from our hug. Colt made no advances towards me, just turning in his spot and examined me.

"Looks like you got yourself in a scrap," Colt snorted.

I reached up to my face, feeling the dried blood and an already created scar. "Just a bit," I muttered.

"Let's give the girl some space," Doctor Means said, "I think she deserves some recovery time."

Two weeks later, I found myself seated with the rest of the overseeing Mentors. We had been discussing my missions in great detail, but I did not mention the Apple. Something told me to keep that matter quiet. The hallucination the Apple gave me felt too real, too much of an actual warning. After some serious thought about the messenger, I had speculated it was Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. But it was information I would not even tell Roger.

"I'd like to interject all this positive reinforcement nonsense," chirped Mentor Christina.

Doctor Means sighed, obviously annoyed, "Go on."

"You know she has made an Assassin Legend now? The Ghost of the Assassin's?" She spat with annoyance, "Grand Master Ezio Auditore even writes about this Assassin Ghost, la bell Assassin, and so do the Templar's. They say that The Ghost shows up when times are hard for the Brotherhood, and somehow shows them a path to rebuilding. Then, she disappears without a trace."

"What's the problem with having some type of folktale in the Assassin's?" I spoke up, "Especially when the Templar's are talking about it?"

"The problem is there is suspicion!" Screamed Mentor Christina.

I rolled my eyes, "By the way, you pronounced it wrong. It's la belle Assassino."

"You see, Doctor Means! She is defiant and unfitting for any further missions."

Doctor Means glared at Mentor Christina, "She is strong and she is going further in my missions. If you scream at this young lady again I will completely dismiss you from this project."

"Doctor-!"

"No, I have had it, Christina. Leave this room, and you are not to be a part of this project any longer."

And with the doctor's dismissal, Mentor Christina threw her notes all over the desk and stormed out of the room. The conversations continued without any rude interruptions or arguments.

"So, Dakota, your next mission will only be taking you back a few hundred years. This is the best time for you to experience both being a mentor and a student."

"What era are you thinking about?" I asked calmly.

"The American Revolution seems like it would be a good fit for you," Doctor Means smiled.

I thought about it for a second, "Okay. When do we start?"

"In a few weeks, just get yourself some well deserved rest, Dakota."

Later that night, Roger and I snuck out of the base into town. We found a tattoo shop, in which I was determined to make my mark. With Roger letting me squeeze his hand, the tattoo artist worked at outlining my latest addition. After the meeting, I went to my room and carefully sketched out my mark, in which the tattoo artist prettied up with an actual ability to draw. It looked like a metal Assassin's insignia ripping out from the inside of my body, placed on my lower abdomen near my hip.

I was determined to become a better Assassin. I wanted, deep down inside, revenge for my family. I wanted nothing more but the collapse of the Templar's. I was the daughter of Grand Master Assassin Antonio Verdi, and a member of a family with generations of Assassin's who died in the war against the Templar's.