The flickering of the candle on the nightstand danced with his movements. The sun had set over the horizon. The snow falling and landing on the window sill. He looked to the old journal once he placed the quill back in the ink bottle. Made of leather and paper, it was something of an expensive gift when he was a young man. Given to him by his father before he passed. It was a memory that seemed so long ago.

Now, it was only a reminder of the people who he left behind.

'Salty has killed every emotion that makes us man.'

Salty has not killed off every emotion that lies dormant inside of him. He was not like others, nor would he dream to be. He was a man with a family. He was a man that provided- granted that times were growing rougher. He knew; he knew for a fact that it was only a matter of time before their paths would cross. Thought to be long dead, Davy Jones himself did not want ol' Gray eye's soul. Even the wicked of men cannot be held in the grip of death himself.

'I thought that I could live out the rest of my days without worry. Why tempt me mistress? Why tempt me with this pain each time my old life comes to light?'

Salty could never run away from this. He could not run away from his enemies who mean to do harm to him or if by chance his family. It was all but true to know-to hear it for the second time- that Gray Eye was alive. Where? That was something nobody seemed to know.

Haytham could be hiding that information, but Templar's would never speak. All memory of his former captain dug deeply, clutching at him like a sea snake. It's fangs digging deeper in his fragile skin letting the poison slowly and painfully kill him from the inside. Gray eye was a sea snake that may have looked harmless, but he was cold and calculating. He would watch with his good eye. Not letting his pray figure out what he was thinking, until he struck quickly.

He had to find Gray Eye on his own.

Salty needed answers. Placing his bag over his shoulder, the room felt cold with the candle slowly dying. His boots were heavy against the wooden floor when he was heading towards the door. Taking a glance to her side of the room. Where two beds were side by side, her bag was still in its place waiting for her to return to it.

He was hesitant to open the door. He knew the risk of leaving her hear on her own. In a place so unfamiliar to her. But he taught her how to use her surroundings. Serial was a smart child and would do some good to be on her own. To be independent and make the right choices. Salty knew this was his fight on his own. Serial may not understand now, but in time she would.

Opening the door to a busy tavern, there were people talking amongst themselves. Drinking their fill in ale. Women throwing themselves to take advantage of drunken men or men having a pretty lady on their knee in a drunken stupor. The place was alive in the night and Salty did not want any part in it. His days of doing so have been long over. He was not that man anymore. That pirate may still linger in the shadows, but Salty always pushed his former self back. He could not face it. Not yet.

Paying his due to the owner of the tavern, the older man nodded his head indicating that he was leaving and to not move anything from that room. Making sure that the promise was going to stick with the owner, he paid another extra of his coins. There was a big smile upon the older man's face and his worn out eyes held a spark. Yellow teeth that were worn out and the stench of ale were heavy upon the owner's breath.

The pitch was low, like the whispering of the wind in the cold of the night. Each sound was beautiful with each strum of emotion that was filled with nothing more than sadness. It gets higher and higher echoing through the streets of Boston as the violinist plays his beloved instrument with expert hands. The day's events will live in the minds of its people. He knew this was the start of something bigger, but his mind was set elsewhere. The feeling of dread loomed over Boston fitting the mood with the tune of a violinist in the tavern.

Who knew emotion could be played so beautifully? Even the heavens were moved by this piece. The sea herself was calm on this night. She must have felt his despair for the sea loved all that sail or have once sailed her. The mistress decided today to be calm for sailors out in the harbor. It was a beautiful piece of music to the former pirate. Music tells a story, it tells of great battles of victory but most often than not about the loss. Much like sailor's who tell of stories of their travels, the music that comes from such instruments speak without much as words. Like the ocean, hearing the sounds of the tunes can only be heard by those who understand it. The sea, she can be jealous if Salty were to turn away from her to hear another much more… land-lovertype music.

Looking up to the sky that was slowly clearing itself for the stars to shine, Salty let out a breath of air. Wondering to himself if his family would understand that he was doing this for their own protection? To have his daughter out there. She might get confused when she returns to the tavern, but she will be on capable hands. To those whom can give her the guidance she needs in the coming times.

All the emotion that was being played turned into a bitter sort of pain. The pitch grew even higher with the pain and agony that the violinist felt until it slowed. It died quietly into the whisper in the wind. Salty stopped just a few feet away from the tavern. There was still much to get done before the night was truly cold. The day's event was still strong in the chilly air and after his run-in with Haytham both men set off their separate ways. It felt uncommon for both men to turn their back on one another, but they did so.

"Those who chase after a man stronger than themselves end up dead. Tell me stranger, how could one such as you leave unharmed?"

Salty walked with his eyes low to the ground and stopped when he heard an older man's voice from behind him. Being followed was something that annoyed Salty to the bare bone. Most people would avoid such a thing but since it has been years since he used his skills, instinct took over knowing that there was another. He did not recognize this man's voice or when he turned himself to face whoever it was that was speaking, he did not know this older man. It confused him but upon further inspection, a faint remembrance of the day's spectators seemed all but clear.

"I do not know what you speak of, old man. You may have me confused for another." He stated with caution.

"I may be an old man but my eyes do not fail me. Do not play me for a fool. You know what I speak of and I saw you run after him." The older man was quick to jump to conclusions. He had a spark of fire that Salty has seen a few times with older people.

He could have smiled at this notion seeing someone who was older by many years have this fire in their voice. But this was not the right time, rather this was keeping Salty calm and still. Observation was obvious as he was looking at the older man. He was shorter than Salty, yet there was something a bit strange about him. Something in the way he held himself. His confidence and trained eye. Salty has seen this before in a land long dead by an ancient order.

"Who are you, old man?" Salty spoke after a moment to of silence has elapsed.

"It is best for you to say your name than for me to say mine. If you are cautious about me, wherever it is you are heading there is something that I would like you to see. I am not so fond of strangers but you; you are more than a stranger to Haytham." This man was very observant.

"What do you know of him?" Salty almost hissed, but his composure had to be calm.

"It is not safe to talk in the open on sensitive things. If you want to help than I suggest you come with me." Where was this old man getting at?

"Give me reason, old man. I have a better and much more important task at hand. Haytham means nothing to me nor his business." This was becoming tiring. Running in circles around each other.

"I believe it is not him, but of another whom brings you much anger, someone who was under his control. The past catches on quickly and before you can blink it vanishes without a purpose. Being a stubborn man as you are, do you believe that you can fight them?" The older man stared hard at Salty.

"How can you know so much if we have never met?"

Salty stood firm in front of the older man. It was evident that he was not Templar as far as he was concerned. He was not some regular old man who goes about to random strangers like some prophet who speaks of the past. Could this man know what Haytham is? Does he know? To hell with it! It wasn't so much of Haytham he was speaking about Gray eye. But how?!

"I have many ways, Salty Bones."


My eyes were adjusting to the darkness when I step foot on solid ground in the tunnels of Boston. I could see faintly the outlines of objects while my hands were touching the slick and slimy walls. It was best for me to place one hand on the wall despite its weird texture and my other hand outstretched before me to make sure I did not run into any objects that I might come across. Father has taught me to not be afraid of the dark but to keep calm and listen to my surroundings with my other senses. When I could not use the sense of sight, my hearing was amongst the strongest.

Water dripping echoed throughout, indicating that there were many passage ways and I could feel the rats skitter across my boots making squeaking sounds as I tried not to step on the small rodents. At one point a rat bit down on my boot causing me to throw it at the opposite side of me. Fucking rodents.

I could see the shadow outline of Connor, who seemed to be stilled as Mister Adams was making a ruckus trying to find something in the darkness. The man was not at all familiar with silence, but I could not help but be grateful to him. Encased in low light from a lantern, my eyes became unfocused for a moment.

With light I could see all that was a few feet in front of me. Abandoned would be the most simple term but I kept my own thoughts to myself when Mister Adams handed the lantern to Connor. I would only hope-no, prayed- that Connor knows his way around these parts because for certain, I did not. These tunnels are not like that of New York where I spent most of my time exploring new passages but here in Boston, I was out of my element.

By the looks of it, Connor seemed not so sure of himself. He looked like a smart kid and he did not want to look… stupid if he ends up getting us lost. Mister Adams on the other hand was holding back more information than what was leading on. This was not my ground to trend on and I knew when to back off with much caution.

'You better have good instincts Connor.' I thought.

"Use the lanterns to light the lamps, Connor. They'll help us find our way should we get turned around." Mister Adams said. "I hope it will not come to that."

"How many exits are there?" Connor asked.

"There are a few but we only need to go through one. The others can be found on your own free time, but we are on a deadline so I do not mean to be much of a rush. Lead the way Connor."

"These tunnels can go for miles, Mister Adams. As much as I would like to help, but maybe there is an easier way to know where we should turn and what signs to look for." I put in my own opinion. I hated being in such an enclosed space without a sense of direction. My senses were itching to get out and above ground, where I knew my footing. Down here seemed as if I entered Mictlan.

"Just use the sounds of the animals." He spoke as if that would calm my nerves.

Maybe I was more annoyed with me not doing much-other than stumbling upon more questions than answers- but it only seemed that everything was being balanced on the shoulder of Connor. Whatever it was that Connor was more responsible for; I was not merely involved in it or at least left in the shadows.

"I wonder why they built these tunnels…" Connor spoke.

"Many reasons I suppose." I said not thinking and simply shrugged. "For one: there are barrels down here, so maybe for storage. Of what is only a guess and my guesses are never so simple."

I looked behind me to Mister Adams seeing if I was on a right path to the answer. He did not seem too fazed by my simple answer as Connor looked back towards me. I shrugged my shoulders once more lowering the tip of my hat. I was only making observation I thought to myself.

Once more we were encased in bitter silence. With Connor leading the way using his hearing, it was pretty astounding that even with the echoes this boy could decipher which way to go. I could say that I was impressed-which I was- this made me want to learn even more. His talents reached higher than my own. His training was far different if not advanced than my own. I knew he was more than what he seems to be. There was something in this native boy that was beyond my learning and beyond my own reach. Of course he grew up in the forest where even the best of hunters have extraordinary skills. Using the sounds of the rats, Connor led us to where we needed to be.

"Well, well! You were right. I apologize for ever doubting. No wonder Achilles has taken such in interest in you."

Crossing my arms and shaking my head, there was this nagging voice in the back of my head when this man's name-Achilles- was mentioned once again. Was this man Connor's mentor or family member? I was only curious but I did not ask. Looking over to Connor he seemed impressed more with himself than any. Maybe he doubted his own ability to find his way. He was older than me by some years it seems and I was sure myself that even I would not have found our exit in 'record' time. I wanted to laugh at myself for being more impressed with this boy. With a friendly gesture I patted his shoulder than back away just a bit.

"Maybe you are capable of being on your own." I teased.

"If I did not run into you, maybe I would have taken a bit longer to get away from the guards."

I smiled under the scarf. "That may be true. I grew up in streets like the one above us. Instinct takes over and then it changes when I cannot see the sky above me."

"Use your hearing if you cannot use your sight. Your strongest trait is sight and touch."

"Oh? I can only guess that yours is hearing and touch." He gave me a small smile.

The conversation between Connor and I was the first time. He did not seem too awkward with me. It showed on his face which was calm. It has been a few hours since we bumped into one another. Maybe he was not so cautious of me (Seeing as I was not a threat) or maybe just polite. Either way, I can see an acquaintance-ship (?) growing. But just not yet. Though it was not so when I heard Mister Adams having trouble with the door. If it is not one problem it is another. There may have been a spark in the older man's eye when he looked to Connor. I was not looking too impressed with this man using Connor for his own need. If any, I was capable as much as the native boy- but he was proving himself more and more that I was the one that needed more of the training.

"I don't suppose lock-picking is part of your repertoire?"


The day's events can strain one's body and it can strain one's own mind. I wanted to sleep knowing that we still had a few more hours until the sun rose starting another new day. After leaving the tunnels we headed to one of the printer shops to bribe the printer inside. He was all the eager for the coins he received to keep him from making more wanted posters. From there, Connor had to find a tavern to stay in for the night. There were many to choose from, though he needed one that was not full-More along the lines of ones that were not filled with much drunken asses or people who wanted trouble. Even with the late of night there were still people about.

Mister Adams assured me that we meet in the morning at the harbor and to bring what I had. He told me that I would be needed to accompany Connor on his journey back home. I was hesitant on this but my gut told me to do so. Saying my goodbyes to both Mister Adams and Connor I made my way towards the direction of the tavern I was staying in.

Only to find a note waiting for me.