By the way, the first sentence IS a fact, for me. I tried it.

Des-claimer: I do not own Assassins Creed or any of it's characters...but I will kidnap that sexy Patrice Desilets...


It was another Wednesday night. I put my stopwatch next to my bed, like always. The key was to keep calm, and not to anticipate. I had a random time generator, so I had no idea when the tiny beep was going to go off. At one point, I was falling asleep waiting, so I just turned the watch off. I was tired that night; I had had a long day.

Ever since I'd started doing the timers, I'd been getting these weird dreams. There was always a man, and he looked the same every time. At one point we were in Renaissance Italy, another time we were in the time of the Crusades. I'd become obsessed with the dreams. I would research on them, but every time I tried to dig deeper than seven weblinks in, I'd be stopped by this certain government-type thing called Creed Securities. It was really high-tech, and it seemed to be following me around the internet. Anything it deemed "too deep", it would send me back to start, no not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I had even tried going to the local library, and even their computers were blocked. Every book I checked out about the Crusades or Renaissance History always lead me back to the same word: Creed. There was a book I'd come across while browsing called The History of the Hashashin, while I was researching the Crusades. I hadn't checked it out (I already had eight books—the maximum), but the next time I inquired about it, the librarian, Mrs. Rowe, told me that it was checked out. I was sure that there was some sort of law that said you couldn't keep a library book for more than a few weeks, but I was wrong. Months passed by, and I hadn't seen the book anywhere in the indexes, the shelves, or the unsorted pile. It was still checked out in the system. The key was to keep calm, and not anticipate. It would show up one day, I was sure.

But the dreams weren't the source of my bad day, though they contributed to it greatly. I was on winter break, and I was attempting to hack my way into Creed Securities. I couldn't believe all the encryption on the site alone. The login page consisted of an ID name, an email, a PIN number, and four passwords, all case-protected. I had asked about Creed Securities, and nothing had come up in any system, anywhere. I thought for a while that it was just a virus on my computer, but on the library's as well? Not bloody likely.

I was looking through the site directory when I came across a name—my name. I refreshed the page (a horrible sin for any hacker—it deletes all of your progress) and looked at it again. There was my name, squashed between two others under the category 'Youth Resources'. I closed the page and shut down my computer. I listened to the radio for a while, played my guitar for an hour. I took a walk outside, to try to clear my head. Unfortunately, when I'm in thinking mode, I think in binary—you know, the little ones and zeroes that you see in all of the Matrix movies? All of the tiny green numbers were sliding through my cerebellum at thirty million miles an hour, trying to make sense of it all. I had no idea why my name was on there. I mean, my name was pretty common, right?

When I got home, no one was there. All of the yard work in the back was laying around, as if someone had all of a sudden bailed on the garden we were all excited about. I took my time enjoying my loneliness. I played videogames in silence, which was odd, considering that it was usually mind-killingly loud when I played. I took a shower, and washed my hair. By now night was falling fast, and no one was home still. I tried calling each of my parents' cell phones, but they had left them at the house. None of my brothers' friends were coming around. The cars were still in the driveway. I made myself a frozen burrito and caught up on my shows. I realized it was a Wednesday and cursed myself at staying up too late. I got ready for bed, putting on cotton shorts and a black shirt. I sigh and lay back in my bed, my back creaking with pain.

Seemingly seconds after falling asleep, there was a tap on my door. Or at least I thought it was my door. I ignored it and tried to get back to sleep. It was probably the cat, trying to seek refuge in my room from the dog. I sat up in my bed rather quickly, and held my breath. I hadn't seen the cat or the dog all day. This was crazy; how long had I been gone?

Again, the tap. I felt my toes curl up in fear. I cover my head with blankets and lay back again. It's just a dream, I'm just imagining it. It's just paranoia setting in. My name probably wasn't on that website. It was just my mind playing tricks on me. I haven't been sleeping well, the dreams, the dreams…it's just a dream, it's just a dream.

I've seen this one. A man comes into my room, no, the man comes into my room, and tells me I have to get out of the house. I don't see his face, because it's too dark, but I don't turn on the light. I pack quickly, bringing only what I've learned to pack, and…the dream ends. This dream was the first I'd ever had. It was the one that had inspired me to start the timing.

Another tap. I'm holding my breath under the covers. I try to make it look like I'm asleep, like I have no idea what's going on.

Something slides open, and my room is suddenly cold. Quickly, but carefully, I slip my head out of the covers, and close my eyes. My hands are shaking. It's my window. It's not my door. Somebody curses softly when they hit the blinds, but they push them out of the way, along with the curtains. It's him, it's the man. I could recognize his voice. The key is to keep calm, and not anticipate.

As they stepped forward towards the bed, I was ready to just bolt out of there, but I was sure he was faster. I couldn't feel my hands. My palms were all clammy. A hand rested on my bare shoulder. It was warm. "Hey." He said. I didn't move. "Wake up." He said. I stirred slightly, but gave nothing away. "Hey, you've gotta wake up, okay?" he said in a low voice. It was raspy, and annoyingly familiar. I rolled over and opened my eyes groggily.

The moon was full that night, so pure white light streamed in the open window. I hadn't seen moonlight in the longest time, because of the curtains and the blinds that keep out the sun. Although the rest of my room was lightened up, I couldn't see his face still. "What's going on? Who are you?" I asked slowly. I knew this man, I knew him from somewhere. Not just from the dreams. I knew him.

"My name is Desmond Miles and I'm here to keep you safe." Desmond. His name was Desmond.

"Why do I need to be safe?" I asked. I looked around my illuminated room, but there were no bombs, no guns, no ninjas.

"I'll tell you later, but for now, we need to leave. Get up." He said, pulling back the covers. I shivered a little, clad in only my cotton shorts and black tank top. I saw my discarded jeans on the floor by my closet, right where I had left them.

I then reacted. This was what I had been preparing for. What I had been practicing and perfecting. I knew how long it would take me to get ready. "Take only what you need most. You have five minutes before…we need to go." I ignored his words, already rushing around, collecting my jeans, scarf, peacoat, watch, sunglasses, and wallet—which held $170. This Desmond guy had good timing. I looked around at everything else in my room, everything screaming for attention. I decided I had more room in my pockets and I stuffed the Italian phrase book in the pocket with my wallet.

"Done." I said, pulling on the white slip-ons from my closet. I looked longingly at the discarded sheepskin boots in the back of the basket. They were so warm…

"That was fast. Do you have a passport?" he asked. A passport. I hadn't thought of that yet. I cursed myself for not preparing faster, but I nodded and retrieved it out of my safe. The safe was fireproof, and it held my birth certificate, and my social security number.

"Okay." I said, slipping on my watch. It was close to three in the morning.

"That's all you're gonna bring?" he asked, a little speculative.

"It's all I need." I said. He looked at me evenly for a second, and nodded once.

"Come on." He said. He opened my door and walked down the hallway, and down the stairs. By the time I was even at the landing to go down, he was out the door. My footsteps were loud and uneven as I trudged through my empty house. No one was in any room I passed. All the doors were open. What was really going on?

I smelled something sweet, but bitter. Gasoline? "Do you smell gasoline?" I asked once I was out the door. Desmond was standing in front of a black sports car. I couldn't tell what make it was, but it had to be foreign. Suddenly, something at my back exploded, and I was thrown from my feet. I landed in the snow, but I still hit my head on something. I groaned and rolled over. There were too many noises…car alarms? I was pulled up by Desmond. "That's my house!" I yelled. I struggled against him, trying to go back. "Let me GO!" I shouted at him. We were about five feet away from the sports car, but I had to do what I did next.

I stuck my feet out in front of me, kicking snow onto the top of it. I closed my eyes, and thrashed around. "Let me go, please!" I shouted. This man was practically kidnapping me, though I didn't know the world for someone who's overage. Desmond didn't let me go, though. He simply stayed put, waiting for me to calm down. I slackened my legs a little bit and Desmond got the false idea that I was giving up. He took a step forward, with me in his arms. I coiled and sprung back against the car. He was knocked off-guard and went stumbling backwards. I was free. I ran down the street screaming, yelling, and "Help me! He's trying to kidnap me!" happened to come out a few times.

As I had expected, Desmond had caught up to me, wrapping his arms around me again, but this time, he had me in a complicated hold I'd only seen on wrestling teams. I struggled even more, and he just squeezed my body once and I'd give up. He had my left leg up by my right ear, my arms tucked behind my back, and my head tilted backwards, against his face. "I'm not trying to kidnap you. I'm here to keep you safe. That bomb would've killed you, and you wouldn't have known what was going on. Understand? Now, get in the car." He growled. He dropped me in the snow, and I felt like a doll, all muscle and no bone. My house burned behind me.

You're probably gonna say "How stupid is this person?" but I already knew that sooner or later, I was going to get in that car. I took off in the other direction, repeating my actions. "This guy blew up my house!" might have come out, and soon, I was in an even more complex hold, and I couldn't feel my feet after three seconds. "Stop." I gasped, trying to suck in air. My head was pushed down by my sternum, and I could feel Desmond's warm breath on my neck as he carried me to the car.

I was pushed in the backseat. Before I had time to register what was going on, I had my hands cuffed to other sides of the car, and my legs were bound with duct tape. "You were so cooperative before, what happened?" he asked as he pulled out of the street and onto the lone freeway. I could still feel the traces of heat from my house, from my bed, but now I was being warmed by a heater in the car. The little insignia on the steering wheel told me we were in a Porsche. What kind of kidnapper/arsonist/"security" drives a Porsche?

"What's your name?" he asked as we headed east. I kept my mouth shut. My lip trembled once, but he had caught it. "I'll take the handcuffs off if you don't try to crash the car." He offered, but I looked away. My nose itched and I was supremely annoyed by the fact my arms were spread-eagled. I could feel my wallet, passport, and Italian phrase book in my left pocket, and my sunglasses in the other. My watch was on my wrist. I had tightened it too much this time. My scarf around my neck and my peacoat kept me warm for the next thirty minutes of silence.

Desmond didn't speak. I didn't make a move. I just looked out the window, trying to get a look at where he was taking me. "Where are we going?" I whispered as we took the exit to the airport. My voice was hoarse from all the yelling.

"I'll tell you everything once we get there." He said. Because I had my passport, I could be taken anywhere. I had my ID in my wallet. I had forgotten to throw it out. I still had a bunch of crap in there that I didn't need. I sighed once, and tested the chains on the handcuffs. They were strong, made of titanium. I could tell because 'Made of Titanium' was stamped into the side. I was giving up with every second that passed. What did total helplessness feel like? Desmond parked in the airport lot. Killing the engine, he turned back around to me.

"You see this?" he asked, pulling up his sleeve. The light from the lampposts bathed his face in yellow light, but his features were indistinguishable, except for his seemingly golden eyes and the scar on his lip. On his forearm was a kind of mechanism, oddly designed, and I could see there was more than meets the eye. I nodded once and he did something with his hand—flicked it, I guess—and this foot-long blade jumps out of nowhere. It glints in the light, and it looks dangerous. "This is a killing machine I have trained for basically my entire life. If you try to run, I will turn you into a human kebab. If you try to talk to anyone, I will stab you in the neck. If you try to act suspicious or act in some way that will get us in trouble, I will kill you. Do you understand?" he asked, his eyes boring holes in me. I stared him down. This man was a killer.

"Who are you?" I growled. With a shink, the blade slipped back to its normal slot. Desmond turned around, pulling the sleeve over his wrist. He was wearing a white sweatshirt and black pants. I was pretty sure his pants were black. Desmond didn't answer me as he uncuffed me, nor when he walked me to the airport entrance. I wished I would've worn the boots now…

"Hello, welcome to American Airlines. How may I help you?" a woman asked from behind the desk. I kept my face blank. She was the kind of pretty everyone wanted to be. Desmond flashed a smile full of white teeth, and even I had a hard time looking away.

"Hi, I was just taking my girlfriend with me to New York City for the holidays. When does the next plane leave?" the airline woman looked me over, in my peacoat and messy hair. I managed a small smile.

"In…thirty minutes. Would you like another time?" she asked, tilting her blonde little head to the side.

"No, that's fine. I'll have two first-class tickets, please." He fished a wallet out of his pants. I was right. They were black. In the harsh light, I could see that his skin was tanned, and his hair was a dark brown.

As the airline lady processed it, Desmond passed her his ID and his credit card, though both were under the name of Peter Hamilton. "Okay…Mr. Hamilton, your flight is in gate G-4." The woman smiled at me and blinked her eyes twice, a dismissal.

"Come on." Desmond said, pulling me through the halls. We passed coffee shops that weren't open, 24-hour gift shops, restaurants of every kind. I felt so hungry right then, and Desmond seemed to read my mind, because he pulled me into one of those fast-food chains and ordered for both of us. He got a coffee, and I got a cheeseburger, fries, a drink, a salad, a milkshake, and hash browns.

"Wha—?" I asked, before he stuffed the cheeseburger he'd unwrapped into my mouth. I had no choice but to start eating.

"This may be the last thing you eat for a while." He said, sticking his head under the table. I jumped back, when something hit my leg. I tore the cheeseburger into three parts, devouring the first piece in seconds. The grease dripped onto my hands, and I reached for a napkin. "No time for that, just eat." He said, opening a manila envelope that must've been taped to the underside of the table. I watched with interest as I washed the burger down with the drink and a handful of fries. God, why was I so hungry? I finished the burger a minute later, moving onto the salad. I mixed the fries into it, so I could accomplish two at once. The drink was half gone, and the milkshake was waiting. Desmond's coffee was untouched. He was reading something in the envelope. He took out a small sheet of paper, and slid it across the table to me. I had about half of the salad to go, but I inspected it. "Do you know any of these people?" he asked.

"That's my dad! And my brothers! Why do you have—"

"Shhh." He said, looking around at the empty dining area. The counter guy was asleep. "This is your father." He pointed at his picture. I nodded, sucking down the last bits of the soda. I knew I was going to throw up later. "And these are your brothers." He pointed at their pictures as well. They were sectioned off into thirds, with a short bit of information I couldn't read underneath them. "Eat your food. We have ten minutes before the plane begins to board." He looked at his own watch, which I hadn't seen before, and covered it up again. It was on his right arm, the one that didn't have the retractable blade on it. I was still nervous about that, but I could immerse myself in the food. The salad was done, and Desmond stood up, his face stony and blank. He looked at the front of the store. The gate facing directly opposite it was G-1. I stood up as well. "Can you eat and walk?" he asked. I nodded and scooped up the remaining food before he could whisk it away with the tray. I got to about an eighth of the milkshake before taking a bite of hash brown.

We were at the gate specified by the woman up front when he started talking again. "Your father and brothers went missing yesterday." He said. I stumbled on my feet a bit.

"Missing?" I said after swallowing roughly. "What do you mean? I saw them yesterday morning, and when I went for a walk, they were gone. What about my mom? She wasn't there either." I could feel a slight chill set into my toes.

"They were taken by a group of people known as the Templar Knights." He said, staring straight ahead. "We have evidence that they've been taken to England, seeing as that is the Templar Headquarters, but we're running out of leads. As for your mother…we don't know."

"You don't know if someone is missing?" I asked. "And who is 'we'? And why did the…the Templars take my family?" I hissed. I had heard about the Knights Templar in history, and my recent research of the Crusades and the Renaissance. They would kill without thinking, they were ruthless. But…hadn't they disbanded in the 15th century? This was impossible!

"We don't know…and I'll explain when we get to our headquarters."

The intercom said, "Now boarding, Flight 2741 to New York. Now boarding."

"Where is that?" I asked.

"Italy."


You guessed it....another chapter.