I do not own Assassin's Creed. Ownership belongs to Ubisoft. Please Leave a review.
"You're late."
"We have some time. Do you have the letter?" My voice is loud against the silence of the forest.
"Of course. Did you think I would fail? Here you go." The cloaked Assassin holds out a piece of folded paper, with a wax seal. I reach out to take it. Our white robes blend into the snow.
"Who am I delivering to?" I ask. I'm the most reliable Assassin this side of New York. The letter will reach it's destination.
"A man named Charles Lee. Now get to it." The man demands. He mounts his horse, and rides off. I stand in the snow for a minute, taking in the forest. The trees, birds, the fox. Always helps to be in touch with nature. I mount my horse, and ride off.
A couple hours later, I'm in a forest outside Boston. Hope I don't run into any Redcoats. The letter hopefully won't be enough to incriminate, but the contraband weapons will.
Minutes later, I spot a redcoat patrol down the road. Damn it. Oh well. I could use the exercise. I dismount my horse, and climb up a nearby tree. The redcoats draw closer. Three of them. This could be easy. The redcoats are underneath me. I jump down, hidden blade extended. He never has time to scream. His spine snaps, and his blood pours down his neck. One down.
"Assassin!" One of the redcoats screams. I pull my pistol, and shoot him in the chest. Blood sprays as he falls to the ground. That's two.
The third one raises his rifle, and fires. I dodge. The bullet grazes my cheek. There's a small jolt of pain. That's going to leave a mark. I flick out my hidden blade, and catch the redcoat in the chest. I stab him again, and again, and again. He's screaming. Blood coats my hand, and the blade. It's pouring down his chest. That's going to leave a bigger mark.
I'm exhausted as I walk back to my horse. It took a lot to kill them. The gunshots will attract more of them. Time to leave.
A quarter of an hour later, I've arrived. A man is sitting outside a cabin. He's dressed in ragged clothing. He's got a scruffy beard, and black hair turning gray.
"Charles Lee?" I ask.
"That's me. What do you want?" The man scowls, and spits into the slushy snow. Hand him the letter. He breaks the seal, and reads the letter. He's smiling slightly by the end of it. "You've done well" He says "Come inside, and clean yourself up a bit.
I'm smiling as I enter the cabin. Another job well done.