After a little bit of encouragement from a fellow author, I've decided to try my hand at writing an Assassin's Creed/ Pirates of the Caribbean story. This story is set in a minor AU at a time before At World's End, but in this, Anne Bonny leaves with an Assassin (with whom she has been training to become one as well) after Edward sails for England. So, let's sail for the Caribbean. You might want some rum for this (I know I do!).

Assassins of the Caribbean

Prologue

Hundreds were lined up in chains. The fort was crowded with an unusually high amount of people headed for the gallows to await their execution. Why? Perhaps this can shine some light on the situation.

"In order to affect a timely halt to deteriorating conditions and to ensure the common good, a state of emergency is declared for these territories by decree of Lord Cutler Beckett, duly appointed representative of His Majesty, the king. By decree, according to martial law, the following statutes are temporarily amended: Right to assembly, suspended. Right to habeas corpus, suspended. Right to legal counsel, suspended. Right to verdict by a jury of peers, suspended. By decree, all persons found guilty of piracy, or aiding a person convicted of piracy, or associating with a person convicted of piracy shall be sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."

It was a declaration of martial law, more specifically tailored to piracy. It was becoming a problem from the crown's point of view, so one man was given power in Port Royal to oust the pirates. He sipped his cup of tea on his outdoor desk, overlooking the papers in front of him. His powder white wig stood out from under his tri-horned hat, demanding a look of authority.

A young boy, no older than the age of eleven, slowly walked the stairs to the gallows. He stood in the center, three people on each side of him. The noose swung ominously over his head. In his hands rested a piece of eight. His eyes remained locked on the piece as he started to sing.

The king and his men stole the queen from her bed
and bound her in her bones.
The seas be ours and by the powers
Where we will we'll roam.

The executioner placed a barrel on his platform square and lifted the boy on top of it. The noose was secured around his neck. All was quiet until the man to his right started to sing.

Yo, ho, all hands,

Hoist the colors high.

Heave ho, thieves and beggars,

Never shall we die.

Now everyone in chains stomped and rattled their chains joined in a resounding chorus.

Yo, ho, haul together,
Hoist the colors high.
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,
Never shall we die.

"Lord Beckett!" the man shouted, running to the man in question. "They've… started to sing, sir."

Lord Cutler Beckett, the man responsible for everything currently happening, looked up from his desk with an unreadable expression on his face. "Finally," he replied. All present were confused at his answer.

Up at the gallows, the executioner noticed the coin in the boy's hands. He snatched it out of his grasp and looked the coin over. One reale wasn't worth much to him; he was paid enough. So he tossed the coin far outside of the fort's walls. The lever was yanked back, dropping the panels and the victims. The barrel the boy stood upon landed on the pavement with a loud thud that echoed through the now quiet courtyard.

The sun was setting fast, painting the sky with a brilliant shade of orange despite the incident that occurred earlier that day. A lone brown Northern Harrier had watched the entire event unfold, not once giving a care to what actually occurred. He was an animal; things like this didn't matter to him. But one thing did catch his eye. It was the coin that was thrown outside of the fort, resting on a large boulder on the shore. The bird flew over to the piece of metal, grasped it in his beak and flew back into the mainland.

A lone figure stood on a balcony overlooking the city of Port Royal. It was one thing the figure admired about his home: the outskirts provided a lovely view in the evening. A pipe was clenched tightly in his teeth, the bowl providing a light orange glow each time he took a draw. His semi-long dark brown hair blew freely in the wind, let down from its usual ponytail.

A female approached him from behind. She had changed into a light colored nightgown before joining the man out on the balcony. "I still can't believe how amazing this city looks," she said to her companion. "Almost reminds me of home."

"From my understanding, it was a great idea to begin with. It was unfortunately just not supplied," the man replied, looking over at the woman. Her hair appeared to be a shade of dark red in the evening light and it was one of the many features he had fallen for.

"By the way, where's Achilles? Doesn't he usually return around this hour?"

"It wouldn't surprise me if that bird went out hunting for a late night snack, even though I already fed him!" A familiar screech pierced the night. The bird in question was heading for his owner on the balcony. He landed on the man's outstretched arm. "Speak of the devil," he said, stroking the bird's feathers.

"Jim! Look there, in his beak," the woman pointed. She took the object from his mouth, the piece of eight from earlier that evening. "Does this mean something?"

Jim took the coin from her hand and looked it over and over. "Not unless he's saying it's more money to take you out with," he kidded. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

He held the coin to his ear. There was a familiar ring that he had heard plenty about coming from the reale. "Rest well, Anne. We leave first thing in the morning." Jim took his pipe and knocked loose the ashes over the railing.

"Hold on a minute," she retorted. "What's it mean? Is it important?"

"It's a signal, and I think you know the one I mean."

Realization struck Anne, having been a pirate once before and knowing of the signal during a time of distress. "You… you don't mean that, do you?"

"Unfortunately, I do. We have to get this to Barbossa. Time to rally the troops. The song has been sung to convene the Brethren Court."