My friend actually came up with the plot of the story, I just stand for the writing part. If there is any mistakes, please inform me, and I'll fix it right away.
I love Hayhtham, He's such a gentleman.
I do not own Assassin's Creed, as you might have guessed already.
Connor balanced on the chimney of a house right above the market of Boston. He had found the spot a few days earlier, noticing the lack of redcoats in the area. He was looking for Samuel Adams - A friend of his who was carrying the information about Connor's next mission. He was told by Achillies to meet Sam at this market in about half an hour. He looked down at the people of the city. They were literally starving for a revolution, they just needed something to start from. This people wouldn't stop before they were free from the British. Connor's people would be free, once again.
A movement in the corner of Connor's sight caught his attention. He turned his head, and noticed a person jumping on the rooftops. At the look of the man or women's apperance, it was not a regular redcoat. This made Connor suspicious, as he started to run after the person.
It was certainly not a regular theif, Connor would have outrun him in no time. This one was almost faster than him. Connor sped up his pace, only to notice that the person did the same. Eventually, Connor caught up with this person. He tackled the person, straddling it over the person's hips. He grabbed the wrists and held them above it's head. He then looked down at a woman, probably twenty, with dark brown hair that was messy tied up in her neck and slightly toned skin. Her features were familiar, but there was one thing that almost made Connor gasp. Her eyes were perfect copies of his own, dark brown, almost black. Deep as they were, too easy to drown in.
He winced when he heard a soft chuckle. She looked up at her wrists and he noticed the Hidden Blades attached to her arms. A slight movement from her wrists and his hands were destroyed. He let out a deep growl as he straightened up and climbed off her, letteng her wrists go. She stood up slowly and caressed her wrists. Her black three-pointed hat shadowed her dark eyes and made her look mysterious. Her black coat with golden buttons were surprisingly clean and well made. She had brown, high boots and her hands were covered with cloves, with the fingertops free, just like his. A long sword was attached to her hip, next to a gun and a ammunition pouch. She looked up to him, with her eyes still covered, she let out a chesire grin and dashed past him, jumping off the building with a swan dive, into a stack of hay on a waggon below. He looked down at her as she climbed out of the hay and ran into an alley. He thought about running after her, just as Sam Adams entered the market. He swiftly climbed down the building and walked towards the man, still thinking about the girl.
He got to the homestead a couple of days later, still tired from his mission. He was trying to track down Benjamin Church, but that man knew how to hide. Not a single trace of him anywhere. Connor walked through the door to the mannor. He looked into the living room, seeing Achillies sitting in front of the fireplace, looking into the fire. He did that often. Just sitting there, thinking. Connor didn't really know of what, but it looked important, judging by the expression of Achillies face.
He opened the secret door under the stairs, and went down to the assassin basement. He sighed and pulled his hood off. He sat down in front of the portraits of the templars. Connor rested his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands. He looked up on the painting in the middle - his father. They were so alike eachother but then not at all. So many things were just like Haytham, things he really just wanted to deny. But it was there, the heritage from his father, the same blood running through his veins. He ran his hand through his his dark, thick hair and groaned, frustrated.
Connor got up early the next day, went out to the stables and grabbed a horse. He was going to hunt down Church, making him pay for all the wasted time spent on him.
Every nerv in Connor's body told him that going in to that cathedral was very, very bad. But did he listen? No, of course not.
Haytham silently watched as his son walked into the abandoned church. He noticed that the boy had grown a lot since the last time he saw him. That old man had done a great job raising him into a full grown man. As he waited for the right moment to strike, he had an inner debate about the fact that he was going to kill his own flesh and blood. As always, his inner Templar won over the Father-instinct. He tensed, ready to jump down and murder his first-born in cold blood.