The new morning in Acre was calm and quiet, the sun's normal warm glow now pasting over the land a sickly pale yellow. The rooftops were nearly empty, most, if not all guards of the Teutonic Order clustered around the docks. Mary kept to herself on a lonely rooftop, slouched back with her head and shoulders resting back against a couple wooden post. She had her bow and quiver of arrows resting on a close-by flat platform, her sword resting with it. She was tired, her body throbbing from the night before. Her right eye was black and shut, cheek swollen and bruised a dark purple. Her bottom lip was busted, and scabbing cuts and cashes covered the rest of her face. Her neck was bruised as well, including parts of her shoulders and arms. With one leg brought up and knee bent, her boot resting against the shingles of the rooftop, her other leg rested flat along its side, boot turned slightly to keep from slipping. She had her eyes closed, wanting to forget the world she lived in.

The sound of fluttering feathers filled her ears and disturbed her from her rest and she looked up, seeing the man in white looking down at her. She couldn't see his face, but she knew who it was. She said nothing, only looked at him as he did her. He remained silent, but approached her and knelt down beside her, studying her face. Mary only shut her eyes tight, as if knowing what he was doing. There was a silent communication between them; Altair only needed the condition of her face and neck accompanied with the painful look on her face to get the answers he needed. He stayed there, looking at her, eyes unblinking yet calm like the hunter he was. She looked at him again staring at his cold eyes. His intense, electrifying eyes.

"...He'll be on his ship... There are soldiers everywhere... Use the scholars... Use the boats..." she said, her speech somewhat impeded by her busted lip, "...You were right, Assassin... He needs to die..."

Altair's eyes softened a little. He stood and paused, "Take care of yourself, Mary." With that, he was off, sprinting across rooftops towards the docks. Mary could only take in his words with a grain of salt. As hard as she might, she struggled to fight the tears that came soon after his departure, eyes staring up at the sickly sky with tears burning under her eyelids and lips pressing hard against each other. She lowered her head, a coughing sob breaking from her throat before erupting into a trembling weep.

i"How come I don't remember that happening?"/i

i"Shut up, Desmond."/i

i"You doing alright Lauren?"/i

i"I-I think I need out..."/i

i"Okay. Easy does it."/i

Lauren took a deep breath once the screen in front of her was released and she sat up, hands going to her head. She leaned forward, face towards her bent knees. Shaun and Desmond moved away to give her space while Lucy went to her side, Rebecca still clicking away on her laptop. Lucy put her hand on Lauren's back, "You okay Lauren?" Lauren shook her head briefly.

"I feel like I'm going to vomit."

"We kept you in there for too long," Lucy sighed, "God why didn't we ask you sooner. We're so used to Desmond being in there for hours at a time."

"It's okay... I just... I think I need to walk for a bit. Or something..." Lauren didn't look up, her head starting to throb and swirl.

"Go do some sit-ups once your head clears," Rebecca said, still as cheerful as ever, "You'll be alright. Shaun'll help you."

Lauren looked up from her knees and stared off at a distant wall, blinking her eyes as the swirling in her head started to die down. Shaun went to her and helped her up from the animus, taking her into a nearby room to recover. He stood there and looked her over, talking to her and casually instructing her to stretch certain ways, and correcting her if she did it wrong.

Lucy watched them from her chair, sighing softly and lowering her head. She shook her head before putting her hands to her face. Rebecca looked at her from her laptop, "Hey, don't worry about it, Lu. She's fine!"

"I did it again," she said quietly, lowering her hands from her face. "I kept her in there too long! Just like..."

"Lucy," Desmond knelt down in front of her, "It's alright." He looked at her intensely and she looked back, lips parted.

"She's okay. Look at her, she's not going insane. You are not forcing her in there. She will not become another Subject 16. She will get used to it just like I have, if only long enough for us to see just what the hell is going on. I know what happened to you and Subject 16 was awful but you need to let it go. I'm very certain he knows you didn't want to do it to him, but you had no choice. In a way, he died so we could find the truth. You are not Vic, Lucy."

Lucy stared at him blinking her now teary eyes and smiling weakly. She nodded, taking his hands in hers, "Thank you, Desmond."

Desmond smiled, taking her into a tight hug, closing his eyes and saying quietly, "It's going to be okay."

Rebecca smiled and went back to her clicking, "You two continue your smooching, I'll just go ahead and analyze what we found."

Lucy pulled away from Desmond in a gasp, looking at Rebecca and blushing a bright red.

Rebecca only laughed, while Desmond stood there a little dumbstruck.

About twenty minutes later, Lauren and Shaun returned from the other room. "She's good as new," he said before sitting back down with his laptop. "She's free to continue or rest, it's really up to you guys, but it might be best if we continue where we left off at least until evening. Time is of the essence." Lauren nodded, scratching the back of her head and face flushing with embarrassment, "Yeah, I'm okay now... Sorry about that." Lucy looked at Lauren before walking over to her and taking her hands in her own. She looked at the other blond with a sense of urgency mixed with concern, "Don't worry. We won't keep you in there for longer than you can handle. If you need out, then let us know and you can rest. Okay?"

Lauren studied Lucy briefly before nodding, "Okay."

Quietly, she moved away from Lucy and laid herself back down on the Animus.

"Okay, heeere we go," Rebecca said. Lauren took in a deep breath as the screen clouded her eyes once more and the vision of Acre replaced the ceiling of their cabin.

The Acre sun was climbing it's way to its highest peak, slowly but surely, but the pasty color didn't leave the skies. Mary had lowered herself down from the rooftops and started a slow walk towards the docks. It had been around an hour after she saw the assassin. When she approached the entryway to the docks, she saw him gently nudge his way through a crowd of workers with their heavy crates. She stopped when she saw him and looked at him. He passed her without so much as a glance, his shoulder lightly bumping hers. Her eyes went from the water in the docs to the ground beneath her, not saying anything as he passed her. Mary shook her head slowly and headed out onto the docks, walking the pathway along the right wing of the waters. The guards stationed along the tower were gone from their posts, all having gathered on Sibrand's boat. They surrounded his body, one of the elites struggling to revive him. Lower guards were sent running into the streets from the docks to seek the culprit out.

Mary stood behind the group surrounding their fallen master, watching them with a silent air about her. She caught a glimpse of him, face quiet and peaceful, despite the remains of his neck nothing more than a bloody mess that spilled over his tunic. Her master as she knew him was lost not only to her but the entire order. Feeling a comforting hand from a French elite clasp her shoulder, Mary looked up at him briefly, his struggling facial features barely obscured by the nose and cheek guards of his helm. She gave him a brief nod before turning away from the sight and heading back into town. She went straight to the barracks, abandoning her duties until late evening. When the stars shown over Acre, she stripped from her archer garb and slipped into peasant rags, finishing off her outfit with a dark cloak. With her quiver and bow strapped to her back and her sword hidden under her cloak, Mary headed out into the now quiet streets.

She kept her head low as she walked, her footsteps light and faint against the dirt floor. She was halted in her steps just at the gates of Acre. She looked up, her face hidden by her dark hood. It was Maria, standing there in her knight garb, though no helmet hid her face. She gave Mary a sneer in greeting, "Running away?"

"I resign," Mary said, her hands hidden in her cloak, though one lightly resting on the hilt of her sword.

"You know Robert won't stand for this," Maria shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

"Sir Robert will be fine with the letter I left for him. I am not his responsibility," Mary's tone didn't change.

"And poor little Conrad. You're abandoning him, you know."

"Conrad has nothing to do with this."

"You're weak, Mary. Your Master falls and all you can think about is crying in a corner," Maria snapped at her. Mary's face creased with growing anger. "Sibrand was a fool for placing his trust in a tart like you. You're nothing but a peasant who likes to play with arrows."

Mary grit her teeth, "Such bold talk coming from the fortunate favorite. But I've never seen you in combat, always hiding behind Sir Robert's cape when the going gets rough." She rose her hands up and lowered her cloak, the healing wounds on Mary's face illuminated by the light of the fractured moon. "I would suggest you watch your words, Maria. The only thing I've ever witness you do in company is whine. Unless you would like to cross swords with me then I would advise you keep your mouth shut."

Maria's face churned with anger, teeth grinding as Mary walked forward, her hard shoulder bumping into the other's. Maria didn't turn while the other left, and instead ran further into the city. Mary approached the stalls and grabbed the reigns of a black horse, pulling him out with tugs on the reigns and gentle coaxing. She hoisted herself onto the saddle and gave the stallion's sides a gentle squeeze. She rode him out onto the dirt path on a gentle walk. She had her head low, her hands resting on the reigns. "…I don't suppose you know what's going on, do you." She rose a hand and gently pat the horse's neck, "I have to find things out for myself… By myself…"