Turns out my gamer friends that make small cameos here are enjoying the story. Don't worry; the plot is around here somewhere…
There it is.
Actually, it's right below you.
Read on, my friends.

Read on and enjoy the shenanigans, and the drama, of our favorite killers.

Chapter 3

The Lady Maverick let out a small breath, listening to her heeled boots click against the cool metal of the hallway. The session she had just finished was a strange one. She'd never seen so many animus hacks being activated, especially with Animus limiting their use.

She wasn't thinking of much though. Her mind was still stuck on the annoying fact that that she got in second. One of the Player's friends seemed extraordinarily keen on constantly getting in first.

"If I wasn't limited by the Player" Maverick thought, "There would be nothing left for her friend to play as."

The Templar didn't blame the Player though. She could only control certain aspects in the art of killing. Frankly, the game gave its players a lot of advantages that weren't existent in reality. Teleporting and force fields gave them rather unfair escape routes. Yet, the game wasn't meant to be realistic; it was meant to be fun.

If only it was just a game to her.

As she returned to the room, The Maverick saw all the Assassins gathered in one place, talking to one another. Her curiosity made her move to the other end of the room, eavesdropping on the conversation.

Her brother sat among them, but wasn't saying much. He simply folded and unfolded his hands, muttering something under his breath. Such behavior was odd for him; he was usually the first to speak, especially if it was out of turn. He had been acting strangely lately, she had noticed. It annoyed her whenever he did that. She always felt this lurching feeling in her chest, tempting her to go to him, to ask what's wrong, to comfort him…

The she remembered who she was, who she had become. She had no sympathy for a brother that joined a false Creed, a Creed that didn't even care for him. If she had to kill him in the game forever, then so be it.

"Are you alright, sister?"

Maverick snapped out of her bitter thoughts to address her brother with a retort. At least, she had thought she heard his voice. Yet, the Redcoat was looking at her with a weird expression, "I said are you alright sister?" she repeated.

"Yes," Maverick quickly regained her poise, moving a strand of hair from her face, "I was just thinking."

"Well you certainly make some odd faces when you 'think'." The Redcoat chuckled, "But what their talking about is rather interesting."

"What were they talking about, exactly?" She asked, hating herself for being so distracted that she didn't even listen.

"You really were thinking hard weren't you?" The Redcoat laughed again, just to stop almost robotically and lower her voice, "They were talking about the sessions and all the supposed glitches that have been going on."

Maverick raised an eyebrow, "Isn't that something Animus should be worried about and not us?"

"I know, but don't you think it's rather curious?"

"I don't worry about such things."

The Redcoat scoffed, "Maybe you should pay more attention to what's going on around you."

"Maybe you should pay more attention to whose emotions you tread on, hon." Maverick smirked, "Or would you have rather had your skull cracked by that hulking Assassin over there?"

Sneering, the Redcoat turned and marched off with military efficiency. The brat was far too snarky for her own good. Such a child should never try to insult her clear superior. Although, her inquiry about the sessions was interesting. Out of the corner of her eye, Maverick saw the Huntsman who stood to be used in the next session.

"Good luck, Frenchy." Her brother yelled after him.

"Call me that again, boy, and we'll see who needs luck." The Huntsman retorted, leaving the room.

The smirk on her brother's face made Maverick quite suspicious. She knew that face well; it was the same one he had when he managed to steal food without getting caught. He was up to something mischievous, and she was going to find out what.

As a few moments passed, she watched her brother move to the corner of the room. He seemed to purposefully hide behind his fellow Assassins, making it exceedingly difficult for Maverick to see what he was doing. Yet, she saw him pull out the small cube they all carried with them, one that contained each of the abilities they could use. Such a device reminded Maverick of a Piece of Eden, yet just in looks. It simply morphed into the abilities chosen by the Player. It was nearly useless out of session, allowing only smoke bombs to be used.

Her brother, sitting down and leaning against the wall, flipped the cube in his hand while mumbling to himself. Maverick wondered why none of the people around him wondered what he was doing. Then again, none of them seemed to paying attention. She watched as her brother smirked, the cube his in his hand turning red. From that point on he seemed to just stare into space, occasionally seeming to speak to himself.

The Huntsman returned with a rather frustrated look on his face, "These glitches are starting to get annoying…"

"You seemed to think they were funny until they affected you." The Silent Shadow muttered. He certainly lived up to his name if it meant never talking.

"It was funny, "Huntsman glared at the fellow Assassin, "it was funny because it was advantageous to the Player."

"Maybe you just weren't lucky enough." the Robber said with satisfaction dripping from his voice. He had a grin on his face that Maverick remembered well.

The Huntsman growled, "I don't need luck."

"You obviously did there." the Robber pressed on, seeming to be enjoying the moment.

Aware of the Huntsman rising anger, Maverick found herself interrupting before she could stop herself, "Brother, your power trip should end right about now."

The Robber turned to her now, "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you…hack your ability sets." She presses, "You were the one sending those Animus hacks, weren't you?"

Her brother was silent for a moment, aware that everyone was looking at him now. Maverick wondered if he would deny it; he normally would. He may be a good liar, but everyone in the room would be able to see through any trick he pulled.

Yet, he said something rather surprising, "So what if I did?"

The Redcoat was the first to respond, "What do you mean 'so what'? You were messing with the fabric of the game!"
"Yeah…so what?" the Robber crossed his arms, "I mean, God forbid we don't have a little fun every once and a while. I didn't even do anything that spectacularly awful."

"Yes, in fact," Animus appeared, looking as angry as a program could be, "You did."

Despite everyone seeming to back up as she approached, the Robber stood his ground, his arms still crossed. Maverick felt the strong urge to pull him away, but resisted it. Animus wouldn't do anything too extreme. At least, she was silently hoping she wouldn't. Then again, if her brother continued to act like he was, he might not be around anymore.

"Really?" the Robber glared at the woman, "I swear you'd think looking at something for too long would be a serious issue."

Animus was not amused, she wasn't anything really, just cold and blank, "You stole those codes from me, the ones from Erudito I was going to correct."

"What? Me? Taking something that's not mine?" the Robber's voice dripped with resentful sarcasm, "Why would I do that-"

Maverick watched as her brother was flung against the far wall before he could finish his sentence.

"Don't you dare speak to me that way." Somehow, Animus still managed to keep the same cold monotone.

The Robber attempted to pick himself up, his image fizzling in the process. He had felt that, despite them not being in a session. The Sharpshooter stepped toward him as if to help, but Animus was already in front of him, pushing him away, "Don't help him, or you'll be in the same position."

"He's just a kid, you know. He doesn't deserve this." The Sharpshooter managed to stay calm, despite the dangerous mine field he was stepping into.

Animus glared at him, "That doesn't matter. If he were ten years old I'd do the same thing. You know why? Because he is not really here. None of you are really here. You're just memories compiled to create an image. That's it; nothing more and nothing less."

"We were real once," The Sharpshooter said nonchalantly, "Well, except for you. You're a bitchy prison warden."

The Player interrupted the response of Animus, "I've got to go guys. I have to wake up early tomorrow."

"Alright, later."

"Bye!"

Animus let out a breath, "I'll deal with you both later, if I must."

Yet, despite the room around them darkening, no one was synced away. Maverick's eyes went straight to her brother, who held the cube in his hand, which emitted a soft red glow in the room.

"What are you doing?" Animus turned to the Robber, her voice having a small amount of panic, "Stop…!"

"Shut your God damned mouth already…" the Robber muttered a barely audible statement, towers of red and black suddenly surrounding Animus like a hack in any session. She immediately fell to her knees, holding her head and fizzling in and out.

The surrounding occupants were stunned, including Maverick, not really knowing how to respond. Maverick turned to her brother, who held the cube loosely in his hand, knowing all too well what he just got himself into.

"…Fillian…" The Carpenter slowly stepped toward the Robber, "Drop it now lad, you've gone too far."

But the Robber was shaking his head, backing away from him, from everyone, "I…" he didn't complete his sentence. Instead, he ran off toward the wall, which collapsed as he approached it, disappearing.

No one wanted to follow. No one even knew where he went. All Maverick knew is that he wouldn't survive another night.

Animus, still kneeling on the ground, growled. Her voice changed multiple times in pitch and tone as she spoke, "Someone get him…now!"

"We don't know where the hell he even went!" The Strong Man spoke first, "Let alone how to get him back!"

Animus whipped around, facing the Lady Maverick, "You." She smiled and oddly sweet smile, "You go get your dear brother. I don't care how you do it."

Maverick really didn't want to, but she feared of what would happen if she didn't. For once she had to swallow hard and nod, taking on a serious façade. If she managed to bring her brother back, maybe she could convince Animus to let him live.

Yet, deep down, she knew he was dead and gone.