The Assassin Among Us

Chapter Three

More Than Meets The Eye

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated this one in a while, just haven't been feelin' it. Plus I've had loads of distrations since graduating high school. *sweats* I'm not quiet as ready for the adult world as I thought I'd be. Anywho, here's a new chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

Assassin's Creed is owned by Ubisoft studios. Fables and The Wolf Among Us are owned by Bill Willingham, Vertigo publishers, and Detective Comics(DC). I do not own any other mentioned properties.

"So let me get this straight, you slept with Da Vinci," Bigby asked as we walked into the butcher shop, he'd been asking questions like this the entire ride here.

"Yep," I answered, greatly amused, "These were a custom made gift from him actually," showing him my prized hidden blades.

"And that famous painting of his, the Mona Lisa?"

"That was me in a fucking dress," laughing with little control, "Took him seven years to finish the damn thing because neither of us could go five minutes with out laughing our asses off!" The memory still brought tears of mirth to my eyes and everytime I saw the painting I couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter because people still had no idea who it really was. And Leo, bless his soul, felt a bit more fuckery was needed so he had me wear a half smile when he was painting my face as a woman.

Drawn out by the sound of my joyous gaffaws from the front of his shop, the butcher came to see what all the fuss was about. In my receading mirth, I almost failed to notice the slight hesitation he had shown when he spotted us. He recovered quickly and put on a forced air of welcome as he greeted us. "Afternoon Sheriff and I don't believe we've met," turning to me.

"The name's Siegfried," shaking his hand, "but people just call me Sig."

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you. So," slightly more at ease, "what can I do for you gentlemen today?"

"You could cough up the shard of the Magic Mirror for staters," Bigby put bluntly.

"Wha-what do you mean? I think you should go talk to Jersey down at Lucky Pawn for that sort of thing," stuttered the butcher.

"Already tried that and he pointed us to you," technically me, after probing his mind with magic, "said this was Bloody Mary's spot. The last time we saw the shard it was with Crane and Mary had him last. So, you wanna try that again," I asked, moving the man into a proverbial corner if you will.

"Oh, I'd just thought...," he began worriedly, but an idea seemed to pop into his head before turning around. "Did you hear that," he asked. Man, he's a terrible actor.

"Hear what," we said in unison. That was weird.

"I'll go check on it, just wait here a moment," he said as he left. Neither of us noticed that he had done something odd as we stared at each other in confusion about what just happened.

Giving each other suspicious looks, we went behind the counter to only spot an old trick of the mob's to warn others of trouble. "Shit" we cursed in unison, Okay, this is starting to get annoying.

Following the butcher into the back, we were met with a frozen locker stocked with the carcasses of pigs. There was a call from the back that told us that we shouldn't be back here and that he would have everything sorted. Using my second vision, we found the quickest route by following the path he took to find him cursing to himself as he was moving boxes in front of a shutter door. Tapping him on the shoulder, "Hi there." Bigby hummed, causing the man to drop the container he was holding.

More curious as to what was behind the door than listen to Johann's pleading, having already determined him innoccent and a victim, I tried to lift it to find it locked. Or at least it was before I pulled a little too hard and created a huge noise from it flying upwards. My eyes were met with an array of items I hadn't seen for centuries, "Well isn't this a blast from the past," I exclaimed as I surveyed the alchemic equipment. "Fucking hell," I cursed as I beheld four sets of bloody chains attached to the floor. I walked around, no longer sure of what I would find, and stopped before a shelf strewn with jars labeled with names I hadn't seen in quite some time. I actually knew of a few things I could make with the stuff here.

"What the hell is all of this," Bigby roared, rounding on the poor butcher.

"Please, I haven't been back here since they took over! I have nothing to do with this," Johann gabbed pathetically.

"Easy Pads, his hands are clean of this," I said calmingly as I shifted my attention to a pile of packages stamped with man on a hobbiling wheel before quickly looking somewhere else.

"How do you know," asked the wolf, almost accusingly.

"My sixth sense says he's a friend and my magic confirms his story, so lay off him," Turning to the butcher, "If you'd like, I could call in a few favors that my friends owe me and have a couple of our men keep an eye out for you for a couple days," readying my phone for the text.

"Please do, it would be a great relief if you did," he said, sounding at ease as he left for the front of the shop while I quickly typed a message to a contact who could get in touch easier than I could with HQ.

With that done, I removed a glove and bent down by one of the bloodstains. Steeling myself, I reached out with both body and magic and touched the echo of what once was very real. It was only for an instant before I snapped back faster than a bowstring, but I felt all of it. Constant, crippling fear, anxious relief, and worst of all was a torturous pain that left it's mark long after it faded away. Slightly breathless, I shakily reached into a pocket for my smokes only to find them empty. Cursing silently, I twitched violently at the sound of my name being called.

"Sig? SIG!? You alright? You're looking paler than Snow," Bigby said gently, kneeling down by my place on the floor.

"Almost, it's just that it has been almost seventy years since...," swallowing hard, "since I've felt that much fear and torture." Shuddering at the last word as unwanted memories bubbled to the surface.

"Hey," placing his hands on my shoulders, making me flinch, "it wasn't you in those chains being used as slave labor." He assured as he looked me in the eyes.

Finding solace in them, I continued to look into those golden orbs as I said, "But that's what bothers me the most, that there were several people that suffered from torture only I thought I had to endure."

"How could you know that?"

"Fafnir was what was known as a blood dragon. In addition to abilities associated with their kind, any blood he encountered was almost always his to control. Except for those with an exceptionally strong will or who possesed the blessings of a god," I explained, calming down as I did, "With a single touch, he could know everything about a person, I inherited this to a lesser extent, but the impressions and images have never been that strong. I should've known that after checking Jersey's mind when they were more coherent than normal." Looking away from Bigby towards the chains as the memories came back stronger and the shaking started again, but greater. "It was almost like being back in that camp in Germany during the war, starving and never knowing a moments peace as they continuosly conducted those...," Shuddering violently, "...experiments. I had no idea that mortals had become so much more effective in the art of torture since the last time they had me in their grasp." I reached for my smokes again, having already forgotten that they were empty.

Bigby did the only thing he could in that he could think of in this situation, he pulled me into his chest like he would a young pup. He held me until the tremors had long stopped and I had peaked around him to notice something on the ground. "What's that? Under the sink?"

As Bigby went over to inspect it, I replaced my dropped glove onto my hand and watched him pick what appeared to be a suit coat. It too, like the chains, was adorned with splashes of crimson. Letting the Sheriff deal with that, I took out some paper and began jotting down what was on the chalkboard. Even though all of it had been erased, traces of a few names and what may have been acronyms could be seen through Eagle vision. I had just finished when a pleased exclaimation had me turn around to see the wolf holding the missing shard and releaved look on his face.

"Uh, Bigby," I said as he moved to leave the store.

"Don't worry, I won't saying anything. It will stay between us." Smiling in his half-lidded way, but this time making my heart skip a beat and jump higher than it should be.

Swallowing, "Thanks."

"Are you ever gonna explain the nickname 'Padfoot?'"

"Oh. In one of the book series I read recently, there was man that could transform into a dog and that was his nickname. I thought it fit. Why, don't like it?"

"It's fine, better than what most of the Fables call me," wearing a half grin.

~~~~Later, at the Woodlands~~~~

Siegfried followed him up to the business office only to be struck with wonder by the sheer size of the place, only to be brought back by Bigby's chuckling at the sight of him being the one surprised for once. But both of their attentions were transfered to an outburst of shouting from Snow, Toad, and a wealthy looking man that the immortal failed to recognize, but he felt like he heard that voice once before. From the conversation, it seemed that he often donated to the Fables government and it appeared to the Nordic warrior that he believed that allowed him the right to order the deputy mayor as he wished. Sig couldn't figure out why Toad was there because he wasn't allowed to get a word in, especially after a green, winged monkey annouced our arrival.

" 'old on, aren't the one that was at the Lucky Pawn with Bigby? Wha' are ya doin' 'ere for," questioned Toad.

"I'll distract them while you talk to Snow," whispered Siegfried out of the corner of his mouth, discreetly handing the Sheriff his pad of paper. "If you must know," addressing the amphibian, "I volunteered last night to assist in the murder investigations since I am between contracts at the moment, minus a small courier job for a friend."

"Contracts? What are you, an assassin?" asked the aristocrat, becoming more and more familiar to Sig as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Yeah," answered the immortal slowly, releasing his blades quickly before retracting them, "You look familiar, have I worked with you before," he asked, brow furrowed as he tried to figure it out.

"No we haven't," he said, begining to look worried. He pulled out a checkbook, wrote one out quickly, and left it on the desk. "Tell Ms. White that I've made my donation towards the Business Office this year. Good day," leaving in a fast walk.

"That was odd," still puzzled by the man.

"I don't blame 'im, Bluebeard's made a lot enemies by killin' 'is brides," said Toad.

"Ohhhh, now I remember. Some angry family sent me after the man that married and killed their daughter about fifty years ago. Only found him once but was unable to catch him though, now I know why. Now," turning to Toad, "is there anything I can help you with?"

"Not unless ya've got a couple grand in yer pocket that you'd hand out," he answered dejectedly.

"That all," Sig smirked, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash and counted out the amount Toad asked for before handing it to him, "Here, now skip to it before they realize what's happened."

Toad just beamed as he pocketed the bills and whistled a cheerful tune as he left. Both Snow and Bigby looked at him questioningly as he sat against the desk. Walking up to him, the princess asked, "What did you do? They have never been handled that easily."

"Nothing really, I had a contract to kill Bluebeard years ago, but I could never catch him and ended it. Apparently he's unaware of that minor detail and I just gave Toad what he wanted. I've always found it easier to let those who are stubborn have their way than argue with them so that they will do favors for me later." Snow gave him a stern look while Bigby smirked behind her back, "Hey, it's not like the government gave him money. Frankly, I have too much of the stuff and I make enough from my bar to sustain me if need be. More often than not, it goes to my employees when they need help. Though, one of my workers did go missing a few years back. Only thing I found out was that they were looking for an Assassin and they thought he was the only one there," trailing off, looking a bit down as though he knew more than he told.

"Anyways," Snow said, shifting the subject, "besides the shard and these 'names,' what else did you two find?"

Bigby looked to Siegfreid, who nodded, before saying, "Well it's not related to the Crooked Man, but apparently 'Cane' had been hiding something from us and is a Fable called Seigfreid, Sigurd originally."

"What," looking at the immortal, she noticed that his eyes had changed color.

"Well, until last night, I never knew there were others like me, even though they lived in a world seperate from this one for millinia," Sig admitted.

"Anything else," she asked, slightly shaken by this revelation.

"The Crooked Man's influeance is all across Fabletown, at least that's Bigby told me on the way here," said the immortal, "From what I've seen, he's taken a very Templar approach to controlling the Fables, a hand in every class, the loans with high intrest rates, Bloody Mary and the Tweedles bullying those who can't pay, and forcing the girls to silence, denying their rights as people. I've been fighting the Knights Templar for ages and everything I learn about this man sceams of a one that the Order has never found out about. If it were up to me, I'd follow my creed and remove him from power, permenantly. But," holding up a finger to quiet Snow as she opened her mouth in protest, "there is more than one way to do so besides killing him. Don't worry, I'll behave."

"I'll hold you to that," admonished the former princess.

"If you three are done, I do believe that the mirror is ready to reappear," called the winged monkey.

Siegfried sat back, intrigued as he observed the Magic Mirror of lore. He quickly picked up that one must ask what they want to know in rhyme and that it will only show the present. He was itching to try it himself and his chance came when Bigby passed off asking it where to find the Crooked Man's door was. "Allow me," clearing his throat, "Mirror mirror, the time has come to cure Fabletown's sore, so would you be so kind as to show us the Crooked Man's door."

"Good one," complimented Bigby.

"Thanks," said Sig as the mirror's surface blurred and cleared to show a door that he recognized, "Hey that's not to far from one of my safe houses! Let's go!"

"Hold on a moment," exclaimed Snow, "it's changing!"

The wolf and immortal paused in their dash for the door to see the new location, "I know this one, its in Central park," said Bigby before they moved for the door once more.

"Wait," Snow said again, "Both of you promise me that you'll operate within the law."

"Promise," they said in unison.

As they slammed for the button for the bottom floor, Sig had a sudden thought on the elevator ride down and handed Bigby the Piece of Eden he lifted from Jersey's. Before the wolf could say anything, he explained, "It deflects metal projectiles, in case of silver bullets. But I wouldn't wolf-out like you did in the alley though."

"Why not," he questioned as he slipped it on his left ring finger.

"One of two things will happen. Either, A, the ring will break and the Order will chew my ear off or B," stepping off the elevator, "it'll break your finger. No hard feelings but, I'd rather it be the second."

"None taken," hopping on the bike behind Sig.

"It's just that nothing's more annoying and embarassing than being barated by someone in their forties when you're almost four thousand years old."

~~~~Night, Central Park~~~~

"Its just under that bridge," called Bigby over the wind whiping past them.

"Got it," bring the bike to a sliding stop just underneath the bridge, quickly killing the engine, kicking out the stand, and dismounting with practiced eased. "Would you care to do the honors," he asked, gesturing to the door and pulling up his hood.

"Gladly," kicking it in to reveal a blue-white veil of magic.

"Together?"

"Together!"

They both took it at a sprint and soon found themselves in stone outlet adorend with red tapestries and carpet. At the sound of foot steps, they pressed themselves against the wall to hide. But Siegfried noticed something off before breathing a sigh of relief and stepping out into the main hallway to greet their escort. A teenage boy in a Victorian tweed jacket and flatcap hobbling foward on a crutch, his metal brace creaking as he moved.

"Tim," questioned the Sheriff.

"We've been expecting you Sheriff," shaking his hand, "and thanks for leaving out 'tiny.' And welcome to you as well..."

"Siegfried," shaking his hand as well, "So Charles's characters are here too? I wonder how many new stories have become Fables," he pondered aloud

"Only those who've become classics to the mundies," answered Tim kindly.

"Hmm."

"Tim, you work for the Crooked Man too," said Bigby, slightly appalled.

"Don't be so hard on him Pads, I'm sure he has a good reason for it. There isn't many jobs he can do in his condition," he said calmingly to the wolf, "no offense," he added.

"I'm used to it," Tim assured, "I'm supposed to escort you to the door."

"Fine," said Bigby, forcing himself to be polite.

Sig followed them from a couple paces off, pulling the wolf back once or twice by the collar so Tim could keep up with them. Reaching the end of the hall, the younger Fable opened the doors and annouced them to the room's occupants. It contained Jersey, who's face was still healing, the Tweedles, and two men and a woman who the Nord hadn't met yet. Bigby eyed the immortal catiously as his posture and scent change drastically as his eyes caught sight of the decrepit man with a cane. The Crooked Man.

"Thank you Tim, you've done your job well. You may go," he said elegantly. "You see Sheriff, everyone in Fable has a role to play. You just have to listen to what they need."

Bigby's response was cut off by the dragonslayer, both voice and body shaking with rage, "You just going ignore me and what you did seventy years ago, or do you not recognize me yet?!" He ripped his hood back and stared directly into the Crooked Man's eyes, his own alight with rage, "Do your allies know that you'll throw anyone under the bus to save your own skin?! Huh?!"

He sprung foward with blades released to kill the man in front of him as everyone stood to protect their master. But by some miricle, Bigby was able to pull him back and barely restrained him with a full Nelson. "LET ME GO! I'LL KILL THE BASTARD FOR WHAT HE PUT ME THROUGH," he screamed, in his rage forgeting his firearm as he tried to break free of the Sheriff's grasp.

"Just... hold on.. a.. damn minute," he huffed, fighting to keep hold of the Assassin. Hard task when he was so damn strong and with those blades coming awefully close to cutting him, "What exactly did he do?"

Ceasing his attempts at freedom and retracting his blades, he began to explain with glowering anger, "His Templar friends were going to punish him for some misdeed from what I found from his superiors before they died by my hand, but he knew of a certain establishment that was housing Jewish refugees. The fact I was an Assassin was just a bonus. They sent their Gustapo to my front door and like hell I was going let them be taken. For refusing, they shot me only to find it didn't work until they unloaded a couple machine gun clips into my chest. They took me to Auschwitz and any new weapons, torture methods, or ways you could do the most damage to the human body were tested on me. And now I'd have my chance to take what is mine if I hadn't promised to abide the law this time."

Bigby let him go, whether from shock or Sig's final statement, it was unclear. But by his expression, most would think it was the former as it was mirrored by everyone else in the room. The Crooked Man sat stiff as everyone's eyes turned on him, no off them showing any sympathy.

"So you're just gonna hang us out to dry," said Georgie, "well I'm not lettin' that happen. Bigby, you can count me and Vivian as witnesses. We'll tell you everything we know about the Crooked Man's operations, even the girls he had me kill to keep 'em quiet."

"We can't let you do that Georgie," threatened one of the Tweedles, pulling out a knife.

What followed was chaos. Jersey had transformed and engaged both Bigby and Sig, pinning them to the floor while the Tweedles subdued Georgie and Vivian, leading out the smashed window behind the bar. They were followed by the Crooked Man and Bloody Mary, who had been summoned by the sounds of the struggle. Reaching his limit, Sig spoke an indecernable phrase quickly and the fire jumped from the grate to set Jersey alight, freeing them both. Without pause for breath or thought, he drug Bigby through the portal and after their quarry.

Stubbling into an alleyway, they were just in time to see two vehicles taking off into the streets. "You take that one," pointing the Hurst Olds, "and don't let them out of your sight." Pulling up his hood, he took off faster than any man could run. Bigby wondered for a moment why he even bother with a motorcycle in the first place before chasing his target.

Further up the street, Sig was quickly catching up with the limousine that, despite it's length, was weaving through the sea of cars. Once he got close enough, he made a jump for it's roof and plunged a dagger through it to stay on top of it. His stradegy worked as the driver swerve haphazardly to try and shake him off. When that failed, the passenger below shot at him and peirced his gut a couple times, forcing him to let go. But not without leaving something to help him follow them back to their den.

It didn't take long before he was standing outside a steel mill, an odd place if any to make a final stand. He walked in, wary of an ambush from among the many shadows cast from the glow of molten metal. As he prowled his way across the walkways, he notice a door that stood ajar. Cautiously, he approached it to find the room empty. There was table against a wall were molds for bullets sat with bars of silver nearby. Moving towards it, he got a sharp blow to the back of the head from steel pipe. Disoriented, he spun around a little faster than he should of and fell to one knee, too dizzy to stand properly. Looking up he saw Mary standing over him with a bloodthirsty grin and the Crooked Man by the door.

Recovering quickly, he made for him as he left only to recieve another hit to the gut from Mary. "Ah ah ah," she said gleefully, "You're playing with me now. I know you're a killer so show me whatcha got."

He smirked as well, knowing that he may finally get to let loose for once, "Well if that's what you want," slashing up her side with the hidden blade, "it wouldn't be very gentleman like of me to refuse the desires of a woman."

Sig soon regreted that as a blinding flash kept him from a follow up blow. When his vision returned, Mary had disappeared. Drawing his guns, he began prowling about for signs of the murderous Fable. Every now and again, he'd hear the tinkling of broken glass. "Where'd all that bravado go," he called out, "How am I going to show you what I can do if you hide from me? Didn't think I'd hit a woman or do just wanna play hide and seek?"

His taunting had done what he wanted, it drew her out. Not the same form that he had seen before, but a gaunt, demonic shape impailed with broken mirror shards. Having not expected that, Sig almost didn't shoot her in time as she pounced from behind one of the man canisters of the mill. She shattered like glass, making him shield his face and back away to avoid being cut. He almost backed over the railing and into one of the vats of molten metal. Reacting quickly, he sprung over them with a single flip and landed on the main floor of the factory. He looked up to see well over a few dozen copies of the same demon he had shot earlier.

Holstering his weapons he took in the fact that he was and smiled defeatedly. "Looks like I'm gonna have go all out then. I hope you're watching," looking to the manager's office before closing his eyes and chanting, "O' one whose scales repel all harm, whose speed cannot be matched by even an elven arrow, whose strength could topple the greatest of this world's mountains. It these atributes that I summon thee and bid that thou become my sword and armor, Fafnir!"

Unlike most times when brought his full power, he didn't drag out the process for effect. Sig was enveloped by a great flame that left as quickly as it came, leaving gold and scarlet plated and scale armor that smoked from the joints due to the sudden heat. Two capes adorned his back and fluttered out to reveal that they were wings, adding to overall draconic appearance of this form. New flames revealed a simple sword that was two hands wide, double-edged, as long as he was tall, and instead of a guard, there was a brace that was held in place by four bolts across it. He grasped it with both hands and commanded, "Seperate." The blade split down the middle to form two weapons. With one pointed to the floor and the other resting on his shoulder, he stood at his full height and opened his now glowing, cat-slitted eyes to focus them on the Marys in front of him.

"Now," he leered, his voice now growling like the beast he now took the form of, "where should I start?" Flashing a row of sharp teeth as he smiled mercilessly.

Sorry for the long wait, been lacking the motivation to get any of these done until lately. Should have a few more updated here soon. As always, I ask that you leave a review telling me what you think of the series and anything that would improve it. See ya!