I was staring at the lights above me, taking in the last blinding moments of electricity I will see for the next few months. Colt walked over to me; he was speaking words of encouragement, but he did not have my attention. I was too busy trying to forget all of the modern things we take for granted, things I will once again be without. I thought of Roger, the one who was chosen for these missions originally. I remembered that horrible shriek that radiated from this table, from that man's mouth, when this machine turned on. I thanked God that it wasn't me screaming from the feeling of being ripped apart. Now, I was here, taking one for the team and continuing with the project the Assassin's dumped so much money into so they could one-up the Templar's at Abstergo Industries. It was hard to shake the sight of Roger violently convulsing, and even now today he has trouble keeping still. When I opened my eyes again, I glared at Colt who was still chatting away cheerfully. When he noticed my expression of disgust, his ever-moving mouth closed, and he stepped away from the table.
"Good luck, Dakota," Doctor Means patted me on my shoulder as he moved towards his place at the computer. "You will be arriving on the outskirts of Davenport, January 14th, 1770. Understood?"
I nodded, "Alrightly then. Let's get this show on the road."
The glass coffin lowered down around me, incasing me in tightly sealed bubble. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I listened to the muffled countdown Doctor Means was delivering from thirty.
Twenty-five: I was starting to become nervous, knots in my stomach forming along with butterflies.
Twenty: My breathing became rapid and my heart rate increased. I gripped my backpack close to me.
Fifteen: My eyes were shut tight and my hands balled into fists as I wanted so badly to resist.
Ten: I begin panting as I wanted to cry
Five: Oh shit, the sounds of the machine above me gearing up loudly increased, although the noise was muffled.
Four: Please! Not again!
Three: No! No!
Two: Stop!
One: Please don't!
Zero: A flash of light I could see through my eyelids, a moment of pain followed by weightlessness, and that odd tingling feeling I correlated to being "sent back."
Suddenly, it was cold all around me, and I was no longer lying down. The sensation of tingles faded away within my body's core, replaced by the slight nauseated feeling. The cold swirled around me, sending a shiver through my entire being while a prickling sensation of snow flurries entertained my face. The air was crisp and cold within my lungs as I breathed in deeply, but my breath shuddered as it exhaled. I clutched the top handle of my black backpack and forced myself to open my eyes. I blinked several times to get use to the sunlight as the first few beams blinded my sight, causing me to hold my free hand in front of my face for a means of shade. Once I could see properly, I removed my hand and gasped at the beautiful winter landscape I faced; hillsides of all sizes coated in a thick white. The sky was clear blue with only wispy cirrus clouds floating slowly by. The far away sounds of flowing water from a nearby waterway echoed up to my vantage point, bringing the feeling of peace full circle. I smiled as I took in my beautiful surroundings of Colonial America. Switching my attention from the landscape to my task at hand, I began to scan the horizon for a heading. Through the leafless trees I could see a manor upon a large hill looking quite majestic, and so I chose my desired path. I slung my backpack over one shoulder and began down a snow covered path heading in the direction of the overlooking manor.
It was a long walk filled with anxieties and contemplations. As much like my first travels to Italy, I was overwhelmed by nerves, praying that the Assassin's truly did send a messenger before my arrival. By the time I reached the last hillside of my journey, the sun was just starting to set, filling the landscape with beautiful orange and pink hues. Taking a quick break from walking, I stood on the snowy path overlooking the hills I have just traveled over, realizing how lonesome the manor was here, and looked forward again to the brick home. I took one last deep breath to attempt to calm my nerves, and then started walking once more. Standing in front of the landscaped stone steps leading to the front door, I could no longer breathe steadily, and found myself forcing air in and out of my lungs. I was ready to start crying as my social anxieties took hold of my being. With one determined foot coming down upon the first stone step, the other followed suit. What if he turns me away? I thought as I climbed the stairs. What if Connor is not willing to let me shadow him?
I reached the front door faster than I wanted to, and knocked. A few moments went by before the door opened.
"Yes?" Asked the man I understood to be Achilles.
"Uh…I am Dakota, I was told that the Assassin's had sent a messenger about my arrival."
The man nodded slowly, almost begrudgingly, and moved to let me enter the manor.
Achilles closed the door behind me, then ushered me into the dining room to the right. Inside was warm from the fireplace, and I was grateful for the heat. The cold from the winter outside began to melt away after a few more chills racked my body. Achilles was an older man, brittle looking and hunched over using a wooden cane for support. His eyes first were dark brown daggers peering at me from underneath his hat, but as he welcomed me into the manor they began to soften just enough to look friendly. White stubble riddled the man's dark face smartly, giving him the appearance of an experienced aristocrat.
"Care to sit, Dakota?" Achilles asked.
"Thank you, but my legs are much too restless. Please, don't mind me."
Achilles crossed the room and pulled a chair from the head of the dining table to sit down. "Would you care to tell me your story? I'm sure if the boy you seek hears voices, he will come to investigate."
I smiled, and launched into my story of traveling through time to meet Ezio, since Achilles already knew that I was not from this time. Achilles listened and once I was finished, asked a few questions from his own curiosity outside of the Assassin's. However, he also asked a few questions that I could tell were designed to figure out how much training and experience I have acquired.
"So you are the one they called la belle Assassino? Our Ghost of the Assassin's?" Achilles asked.
Slightly taken aback that my Italian legacy reached this far in history, I blinked at him. "Yes, I suppose that's what they titled me."
"If your legacy holds true, then you have much to help rebuild here."
My eyes dropped from Achilles for a moment before whispering, "Does he know about the Ghost?"
Achilles smirked, "No, not yet."
Soon enough, Achilles looked up to find that we were not alone anymore. I followed his eyes to find the young native boy watching us from the doorway.
"Come in, come in," Achilles offered to him.
Dressed in traditional Mohawk clothing, the teenage boy was slightly taller than me, standing with arms seemingly limp in front of him and his stature lank and an expression of wariness. His black hair came to his jaw, and a small piece was braided on the side of his face. His expression showed no definite emotion, making it difficult for me to decode his possible thoughts. I tried to keep my expression open, slightly glowing with a smile. For all I know, I looked like an idiot.
The boy walked in timidly; keeping his eyes fixed upon me- the strange new woman in Assassin's robes. "Who are you?"
"My name is Dakota." I answered with a slight smile and a natural female flutter of my eyelids.
"Why are you here?" His tone was sharp, but his face did not match his voice. It was more of an expression of curiosity than bitter rudeness.
"Actually, I'm here for you. I'm here to learn the skills you know, and I yet need to acquire."
"Why me?" The boy asked, his eyes narrowing with confusion, and possible conviction.
I smiled and nodded my head to the side slightly, "simply because you're the best to teach me."
Achilles spoke, "please, child. Tell Dakota your name, perhaps she will have better luck at pronouncing it than I."
"My name is Ratonhnhake:ton," the boy replied a little taken aback and pronounced his name slowly so I could hear every syllable without sounding it out for me.
I smirked, "So, Ratonhnhake:ton," I pronounced perfectly, "will you help me?"
He looked at me as he contemplated, but finally answered, "Yes, I will help you."
Ratonhnhake:ton watched me for the rest of the night as Achilles and I talked. Upon Achilles request, once our conversations came to a close, the future-named Connor showed me to my room. The room was off the staircase, the first door to the right. It was a very large sitting room, rearranged with a bed for my expected arrival. The decorations in the room were truly unfit to be considered a bedroom, in which caused my earlier observation. Pushed off in the corner of the room was a covered shape of a piano, there were several couches, a large desk, a half covered full length mirror, and a bookshelf full of reading materials. I set my backpack down on the bed, turned and thanked the still timid boy who watched me very closely. I felt bad that I made him uncomfortable, but no matter how warming of a smile I delivered, all I got in return was a curious gaze.
When I was left alone, I flopped down onto the bed and let out a heavy sigh. The worst of the awkward meeting was over, the introductions were made, and now all I had to do was not screw anything up. I needed Ratonhnhake:ton to be able to find trust and reassurance within me that I was, indeed, his ally. Easy enough, except that I was some strange lady staying here in the manor from a different time period. Yeah, piece of cake.