Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft


Boston, Massachusetts

Brrrring! Brrrrring! Brrrrring!

The phone was ringing somewhere in the office, and the sound only grated on Lee's already frayed nerves. The city of Boston was clearly ran by a collection of incompetent morons! It's 2016 and none of the birth records were uploaded to a digital format! Meaning he was shifting through piles of paperwork searching for one name! He'd been at this hunt since eight-thirty this morning and still wasn't any closer to finding any child born to a Haytham Kenway (or any plausible combination of rewriting Haytham's name)!

"Sir, it's the football player," his secretary said. Lee frowned, not wanting to deal with celebrities, who were, in his humble opinion, whiny overgrown children.

"Tell him I'll call him back when I have more information," Lee said. His secretary nodded and left his office. The man sighed in annoyance, running his fingers through his hair. Nowhere was there any sign that Haytham fathered a child! Maybe Hickey had been lying; that man was rather drunk after all. Lee frowned, since that didn't make sense. Why would Hickey lie? The man had always been a rather honest drunk, if obnoxious. No, somewhere in this mount of fifteen years worth of birth certificates was the one belong to Haytham Kenway's mystery child.

"Maybe I should search for the mother," Lee muttered, but thought better of it since he had no idea what the mother's name was or if Haytham's fabled child had been to that Indian woman, he fancied. If the child was also that Indian woman's then the child could have been born on one of the reservations. "Then I will never find it," Lee grumbled, since he doubted any of the nearby reservations would give him access to their birth records without some court order. He hated to admit it, but he was at a dead end.

"Damn it!" Lee swore as he rested his head in his hands. His elbow shifted a stack of papers slightly. Lee glanced down, seeing at first nothing worth his time, and then he spotted it: A named or at least part of it. Could it be the elusive Kenway name he'd been searching for for the past six hours? Lee calmly wiggled the piece of paper out of the stack. His eyes grew wide for in his hand was a birth certificate from Boston General Hospital. Dated for April 4th, 2002 at 8:05 am, a boy was born to a woman named Kaneihtí:io. The child was healthy and of average weight and length for a newborn. The name of the doctor who delivered the child and the nurse present were also on the form. Curiously, there was no name for the father and it was marked unknown. Yet, the thing that held Lee's attention was the child's name: Ratonhnhaké:ton Connor Kenway.

"Found you," Lee whispered, knowing that there was no doubt that this child was Haytham's son. He had a name to give Braddock before he sent one of his goons to Maine. Maybe this entire thing wouldn't even have to see a court room. If he could somehow use the boy for leverage, the mother at least would agree to anything to save her son and may convince Haytham to back down. It was a dicey move, since the Haytham Kenway, Lee remembered was never moved by sentiment. Lee pressed a button on his phone. "Amanda, get me Braddock. I've found something he'd be pleased with," Lee said with a malicious grin on his lips.


Seven years earlier

"And that's why we never run around with scissors in our hands," the man, at the front of the classroom full of second graders, said. Connor stared at the doctor before clapping along with the rest of his classmates. A little girl at the front gave the man a hug as he left. Connor felt a pang of jealousy slice through him. All the other kids had their fathers show up and tell cool stories about what they do, all except him.

"Connor," Mrs. Morteseenie asked. He looked up at his pretty teacher. "Are you sure your father couldn't make it?"

Connor nodded mutely. He couldn't bring himself to tell his teacher the truth. Instead, he had made up an elaborate story about his chronically absent father was a top secret spy working for the CIA, MI6, Interpol and every other possible intelligence agency of the world. He went on so many top-secret missions and had so many powerful and dangerous enemies that he was rarely ever home. It was because of this top-secret job and those enemies that he couldn't risk sending Connor birthday or Christmas presents. Connor didn't even know his name.

"Alright, moving on to math…" the teacher said and Connor tuned her out, looking instead at his desk. The lie wasn't really comforting, not that much. The other kids would run to their fathers after school or told stories about the things they did with their dads at recess. Connor always left the classroom for an hour during the first week of June when his other classmates were making macaroni pictures for their dads. Instead, Connor went to the library and read comic books or stories about animals. His favorite book was All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot.

When class ended that day, Connor stood on the sidewalk waiting for Achilles to pick him up from school. When the car pulled up towards him, Connor half expected his father to get out of it, and scoop him up into the air, promising to never ever leave him again. Instead his mother got out. "Ista!" Connor cried, pleasantly surprised to see her. He ran to her, hugging her tightly around the waist.

"Hey my little wolf pup," Ziio greeted him, ruffling his hair. "How was school?" she asked. Connor just shrugged. "It's Friday, so we're going to get ice cream."

"Really? Oh! Are you gonna go to the reservation this weekend? I wanna tell Kanen'to:kon about my school," Connor said.

"Maybe, I'm busy with my new job," Ziio said, opening the backdoor for Connor to climb in. "What did you do at school today?" she asked once she was in the driver's seat.

"Nothing cool," Connor said as he buckled himself into his booster seat. "The dads of the other kids came and told stories about what they did."

"Oh, that's nice," Ziio said. "You didn't feel left out did you?" she asked.

I did. Connor shook his head. "No, I told Mrs. Morteseenie that he's a spy and away on a top-secret mission!"

Ziio laughed. "Oh Ratonhnhaké:ton, Haytham Kenway is hardly a top-secret spy."

Connor perked up suddenly. Haytham Kenway was a name he never heard before. It wasn't on the emergency contact list he memorized and his mother never let him touch her phone so he doubted it was there and Achilles never mentioned it either, so… "Who's Haytham Kenway?" Connor watched his mother get quiet and her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Ista?" he asked, wondering what was so bad about a harmless question.

"Nobody," Ziio said a little too sharply. "Forget you ever heard that name, understand me?"

"But Ista, I—"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton !" Ziio snapped. Connor whimpered a bit. His mother could be scary when she was angry but he desperately wanted information.

"Is Haytham Kenway my dad?" Connor asked, defying his mother for the first time in forever. Ziio slammed on the breaks and threw the car into park, uncaring of the fact it was in the middle of the road. She turned around in her seat to face her son.

"I never want you to ask that question again! You are my son! Haytham Kenway is a cruel and vile man, never speak of him or ask any questions about him, again! You are to forget everything about him! Do you understand me, Ratonhnhaké:ton?" Ziio shouted, her words coming out in a tumble of English and Mohawk.

Connor sobbed, never having been yelled at like this by his mother before. Sure, she had gotten angry with him in the past but never like this. "Yes, Ista… I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll never ask again!" Connor cried. Ziio softened, and reached out to him and wiped away his tears.

"Shh, shh," she cooed. "All is forgiven Ratonhnhaké:ton, Now let's go get some ice cream then we'll go to the bookstore."

"O-Okay," Connor hiccupped, rubbing at his nose and eyes. His mother smiled as she put the car back into drive. Connor mutely looked out the window, the prospect of ice cream and bookstores a gloomy one.


Eagle's Point, Maine Present Day

"What did your mother tell you about me?" Haytham asked as Connor pushed back a green fern. He found the mushrooms growing in a little cluster and plucked them before placing them into the basket his father was holding.

"That you were a cruel and vile man," Connor replied.

"That's it?" Haytham asked. Connor thought he sounded her. "A cruel and vile man."

"Ista wasn't found of you when I was little," Connor said, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. He continued along the game trail, eyes glued to the ground. They were out hunting mushrooms. Connor had wanted to go alone but Haytham had insisted on coming and despite his protests and his mother's reluctance, she never forgave Haytham for letting him jump off the Point the other day, Connor found himself walking through the forest with his father. At least he had Aquila; the Newfoundland never left his side. Sometimes she even slept on top of him in his bed at night. He didn't mind though. Connor stopped, a frown on his face as his father crashed loudly through the underbrush.

"Can you be quiet?" Connor asked, looking over his shoulder. "You're making too much noise."

"I'm sorry, but I didn't know my excess noise would frightened away a bunch of fungus!" Haytham bit back. The fourteen-year-old rolled his eyes and walked on, grimacing every time his father crashed and stomped along the trail. If he had his b-b gun or slingshot and was alone, he'd bring home a couple of squirrels or a rabbit. "What did you think of me?" Haytham asked.

Connor gave a nonchalant shrug. "I didn't know you. I made up this story about how you were a spy on some top-secret mission and couldn't visit because of it," Connor said. "It was good for a little kid, but when I turned twelve I figured you just abandoned me and my mother before I was born," Connor looked at his father, "for another woman."

Haytham's eyes grew wide and he sputtered at the indignant of it all. "What put that ridiculous notion into your head? Was it your mother?"

"No," Connor said, shaking his head, "it what happened to Johnny Cartwell at school. That's why he had a stepdad."

"I didn't abandon you are your mother! I never looked at another woman since your mother, Connor," Haytham said, "if anyone did any abandoning it was your mother!" Haytham sighed, "I loved her with all my heart."

Connor turned and looked at him, his arms crossed. "Oh, really?"

"It's the truth!" Haytham spat. "I would have been there for you and her if she had only told me she was pregnant!"

Connor snorted. "Yeah, well it's too little and too late for that. Whatever reason you have, the bottom line is that you weren't there!"

"Connor… son," Haytham began.

"I told you, don't call me son like it's supposed to mean something!" Connor spat.

Haytham sighed. "It's not like I didn't want to be! Your mother left me, and when she walked out of my life, I never heard from her again. I'm not a heartless unfeeling monster you think I am, Connor."

Connor growled in frustration. "Whatever," he spat and walked off before umping up and grabbing a thick low hanging branch. He began to climb the tree.

"Connor! Connor! Connor Kenway, you get down here right now! Connor!" Haytham shouted, coming to stand at the foot of the tree. He watched his son nimbly scale up the tree and settled halfway up it in a nook of branches.

Connor glanced down, a cocky little smirk on his face as he waved at his father. "Connor!" Haytham shouted again, but the boy in question stayed put. Gleefully, Connor watched as his father huffed in frustration and walked back home.


Haytham spotted his father sitting on the front steps peeling potatoes, when he returned. The old man stopped his task, a frown on his face. "Where's Connor?" Edward asked.

"Half way up a bloody tree!" Haytham yelled. Edward chuckled. "It's not funny!" Haytham shouted as he sat down next to his dad.

"Got a lot of mushrooms," Edward noted.

"Connor's good at finding them," Haytham muttered as Ziio came out of the house.

"Where's Ratonhnhaké:ton?" she asked, looking around for her son and not finding him. "Haytham? Where's Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

"Half way up a bloody tree," Haytham fumed. "Maybe he's reached the bleeding top by now."

"What's he doing up a tree? Did you let him climb it?" Ziio asked, her anger rising.

"Of course I didn't let him! I told him to get down but he didn't listen!"

"Did you use his name and tell him to stop?" Ziio asked as if he was obtuse.

"Of course I did! But he doesn't listen to me!"

"Did you use Ratonhnhaké:ton or Connor Kenway?"

"The latter, I can't say the former yet."

"No wonder he ignored you! He doesn't listen to that name!" Ziio cried. "Now my son is up in a tree!"

"He'll be alright lass," Edward said. "Just calm down. Once Connor's simmered down he'll come home."

"Why didn't you grab him, Haytham?" Ziio asked, ignoring Edward. All her ire was focused on Haytham.

"Because he just went ahead and bloody did it! He's like a monkey! A willful headstrong monkey that doesn't listen to his father!" Haytham said and watched as Ziio stomped her feet into her shoes. "Where are you going?" he asked, sounding stupid.

Ziio glowered at him, some strains of black hair falling into her eyes. "I'm going to look for my son and get him out of the damn tree!" Ziio said, giving her shoe laces a sharp tug, before she marched off, wrestling on her jacket along the way. Haytham sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. Edward wordlessly handed Haytham a potato and a knife.

Haytham started peeling potatoes, a bit awkwardly at first, until he got the hang of peeling with a knife. "I thought you had a pub to run?" Haytham asked.

"Took the day off again. I do get a retirement check, Navy benefits and social security, Haytham. I don't need to run the pub every day," Edward said. Haytham nodded and lapsed into a comfortable silence with his father.


He glanced up after the fourth or fifth potato, when he noticed a black SUV pull up to the Sea Eagle's empty parking lot. Haytham watched as three men, grabbed in black with dark sunglasses got out of the vehicle. Clearly city slickers, one went into the woods while the other two walked towards Haytham and Edward.

"Didja seem 'em?" Edward whispered to his son.

"Yeah, strange. Wonder what they want," Haytham said. Edward handed him his potato.

"Don't know, don't want to find out," Edward growled as he stood up. "Wait here," he said and went inside the house. He was back shortly, carrying a shotgun and a rifle. He pressed the rifle into Haytham's hands. "Don't like weird folk sniffin' around where they have no need to," Edward growled, tucking the shotgun under his arm and began to load it. He walked towards the two strange men as he did so. Haytham checked make sure the rifle was load, which it was, before walking after his father.

They came to a halt about three feet from each other. Haytham glanced at the woods nervously, wondering why the other man hadn't come back yet, before focusing on the two before him and his father.

"Whaddya want?" Edward asked. "If ya lost get off my property and go back the other way!"

"Are you sure this is the place?" one man asked the other. His partner nodded. "Alright," he said and looked at Haytham and Edward. "We're looking for Zoey and Conrí, have you seen—" he stopped when the second man's phone rang. The man on the phone had a quick conversation before he turned the device off.

"You Haytham Kenway?" the second man asked.

"Depends," Haytham said, hefting the rifle up higher. "What's this about?"

"Where's your son?" he asked.

"My son?" Haytham decided it would be prudent to play dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a son."

"We're looking for a boy named Connor Kenway, about fourteen years old. A little birdie told us he'd be up here with his old lady."

"I'm sorry, but you are sadly mistaken. I don't have a son, I'm here visiting my father. He's gone senile."

"I an't gone senile!" Edward shouted, not bothering to glance at Haytham. He leveled his shotgun at the two men. "Their Commies, sure has hell. Just like me ol' man said." Edward cocked the weapon. "Don't like Commies too much."

"Sir," the second man said, swallowing nervously. Haytham suspect that they weren't armed, or if they were it was a knife and that was for close combat. "We just want to talk to Connor Kenway."

"That's exactly what Stalin said! Look what's happenin'!" Edward said. "Da! Da! Get out here! Got some bloody Commies at th' end o' the barrel!"

Haytham put on his best-exasperated face. "Dad, Grandda has been dead for years. The Cold War is over."

"No it an't! That's just what they want ya to believe," Edward growled. "Da an't dead, neither. He's in th' back. Da, get out 'ere!"

Haytham looked at the two men and smiled at them, lowering his gun. "I'm sorry, about all this, but as you can see, he has trouble remembering things."

"I an't no trouble 'memberin' things, son!" Edward snarled. Suddenly, there was a scream and all four men froze. "It's the Commies!" Edward shouted and pulled the trigger. He missed, and the two men flipped back their coats to reveal a pistol on their hips. Haytham raised his gun.

"Just so you know, I'm a pretty good shot," Haytham warned. The two men swallowed, looking nervously at Haytham and Edward. They stayed like that for several minutes before the third man came out of the woods. He was holding a beaded bracelet, crafted in the Native American style. Haytham swallowed when he saw that, worried about Ziio and Connor.

"Well?" the second man asked the third. "Did you find them?"

"Found them, chased them through the woods, all the way to a waterfall. Tried grab them, but there was a struggle and they tumbled over the side," the third man said. He held up the bracelet for the other two to see. "Saw their jackets in the river. Nobody could survive that fall."

"What do we tell the boss?" the first man asked. Haytham lowered his gun, dreading the words that the third man would say next.

"They're dead."


Dun-dun-duuuuuuuuuuh!

I wanted a more action-y scene but you get Edward pretending to be senile. His father survived in WWII and Edward was born shortly after and grew up during the height of the Cold War. Commie is slang for Communist and refers to the Russians at the time. Haytham was born in the early seventies.

I was planning on finishing this chapter tonight after I got home with my mom from babysitting, but plans changed causing her to leave before I got home from school, so now I'm here and this gets posted! Yay!

Or maybe not yay. Depending on how you take this news. Muwhahahaahahaha!

Alternate chapter title: In which the Bad Guys do Bad Things

Save an author; leave a review!

-Nemo

PS: Yes, Haytham calls his deceased grandfather "Grandda".