A/N: Holy cats! This story is a month old today! With it now being over 30,000 words, with 13 Chapters, 23 Reviews, over 3,100 views, 12 Favs and 27 Alerts…that's not too bad for it's first month!

I like to thank everyone for making this possible! And I can't wait for next month!

…On a side: I hate writing action scenes, they never seem to good enough to me, so I apologize if my action scenes sound weak or are too fast. I envy anyone who can write a good action scene.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything – Everything Assassin's Creed belongs to Ubisoft. I barely own R-L. Also any songs that find their way on here aren't mine.

Here Comes Trouble

You can't really explain a fight or battle or whatever when you're in the moment, but I'll try my best.

All I can say is, the next thing I knew Edward was in the middle of a fight as Assassins—yes, Assassins. The hoods and the hidden blades gave them away—dropped down from above and into the central plaza where Edward and the Templars had just walked into.

I saw Edward grab one of the pistols Captain Rogers gave him and he took aim at one Assassin that had locked blades with du Casse. With one load bang, the Assassin was on the ground, dead from the bullet to the head.

I heard someone fire another shot, followed by Edward's second shot. Two more Assassins were on the ground, followed by a third a moment later.

With his bullets used, Edward sheathed the empty pistols back into their holsters and drew out his cutlasses, just in time to cross blades with an Assassin. But the Assassin's hidden blade broke under the weight and power of Edward's cutlass, and he didn't have time to dodge the strike from the cutlass in Edward's other hand.

I could only wince at the sound of metal stinking into flesh, and metal being pulled out just as fast, a spray of blood whipping out behind the blade.

That blow, like the gunshots, was aimed to kill instantly.

"Watch the streets and allies!" I heard du Casse shout from somewhere, though I don't know who he was trying to warn—maybe all of us, as Edward blocked another blow coming at him. "They could be anywhere!"

Edward used his strength to push his new opponent off balance, and he was quick to strike at the heart. The Assassin was dead before he knew what hit him.

The world blurred, and then Edward was running on pure fighting instinct. No true thought, just reactions. Sometimes I could hear someone shout something, but I couldn't really grasp the words.

It surprisingly made the battle seem last only a few seconds when it really was much longer.

By the time I was able to focus again, we were in a different part of Havana, much closer to the governor's mansion. Edward did a quick look around.

Everyone expect for one officer was accounted for. Du Casse had torn sleeve stained with blood, but he didn't look too worse for wear. Captain Rogers' shirt was torn, but it seemed he escaped from getting injured even with the blood splatters on his coat. Even the old man Torres had escaped injury although his jacket could have done better—I could count at least three slash marks.

The Templars had surrounded Roberts and the two remaining officers—one with blood splashed onto his coat—were holding Roberts shoulders tightly.

But suddenly, in the blink of an eye, an Assassin landed on the officer with the blood splattered coat, crushing the officer to the ground, a surprised and pain yowl escaped from his pale lips, startling the Templars. But the officer was dead before he hit the pavement from a hidden blade into the neck.

As more Assassins rained down around us, Roberts jerked in surprise at the suddenness of the ambush from above, causing the second officer to let go of the Sage to try and attack the ambusher. But the Assassin was ready for him, knocking the sword out of his hand.

As Roberts moved to get out of the way, I saw another Assassin dropped down from above. Only this one didn't have any kind of sword on him. Instead he pulled a long reed tube off his back—a blowpipe! Aveline had one of those!

The Assassin was quick to bring the pipe to his lips and with a hard blow, I could actually see the hardwood dart come projecting out of the tube and come flying right at Edward.

I think we both let out a loud yell of surprise and pain when we felt the dart pierce through the fabric of Edward's shirt and sink into the flesh at the collarbone, just missing the base of Edward's throat.

The pain was enough to stop Edward in his tracks as he was trying to run at the Assassin with the blowpipe. He grasped the dart and pulled it out before whatever was coated on its tip had any time to inject anything into his bloodstream, but the sudden yanking had worsened the pain blooming at his collar, like hot wires imbedded into his skin, which sent him to his knees.

Having successfully stunned Edward, the Assassin dropped his blowpipe and went at Roberts. But instead of attacking the bound Sage, the Assassin was instead wrestling to get the manacles off Roberts' wrists.

So Roberts was indeed the target of their attack! They were trying to rescue him!

But…

I could only stare in surprise when Roberts suddenly grabbed the wrist of the Assassin that freed him from the manacles and…forced the Assassin to stab his own throat with the hidden blade.

That…bastard…

Killing his own rescuers?! The one's risking their lives for his?!

I knew there was something wrong about him!

Roberts took off running.

And, no surprise really, Edward, despite the pain in his collar, went right after him. He didn't need Torres to order him to do it—he was intent on not letting the Sage get away from him.

And Edward makes good on his intentions.

To make a long story shot: Edward caught Roberts and brought him back to where the Templars were.

It took a rough tackle into the hard unyielding cobblestone street and a pistol—an empty one at that—pointed to his head, but Roberts gave in and didn't try to run again. Although he did mutter, "Well done, Lap-Dog."

"Quiet!" Edward hissed as he jerked Roberts none-to-gently back onto his feet.

Finally—Finally!—I de-synched from Edward, letting out the biggest sigh, combined with a groan, of relief.

Viewing a battle or a fight from Edward's prospective isn't as easy as it sound. The chaotic flurry of battle made whole thing becomes mind-numbing, and it becomes really hard to keep focus. Everything is happening so fast and it gets so disorienting, mucking my mind and turning it to cotton wool. It makes it hard to remember what was going on.

As I rubbed my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and get back to focusing, I felt a pricking sensation on my back—the kind you get when you think someone is coming up behind you. I did a quick look over my shoulder.

I think I caught Roberts's copper gold eye was looking in my direction, but Edward was pushing him to get going, grabbing onto Roberts' shoulder.

The sensation fell away from my back, but as I followed behind Edward, I couldn't let go of this sense that Roberts was trying to sneak glances over his should. But every time he tried, Edward would give him a shove.

And strangely enough, for once, I was glad Edward was being overtly and little more than necessary rough with Roberts. Normally I wouldn't put up with stuff like that unless it was required. But I think I would be glad for anything that was keeping Roberts' strange eyes away from my direction, even if it were something I would be disapprove of.

Although I can't fathom why I felt so anxious whenever those eyes were looking my way. It just didn't make sense to me. No one could see me. I was an invisible ghost in a highly advanced machine. Why would I be so worried about someone looking in my direction? They would look right through me, and not know I was standing right there.

So what's with all this anxiety?

Something is really wrong here.

It WAS a relief—scary!—when we made it back to the Templars. None of them worse for wear, though El Tiburón was sporting a few new scratches and dinks on his armor, Torres was missing a cuff, Captain Rogers had a small bleeding cut on his forehead and each had more blood splatters on their clothing. I saw that none of the officers had survived.

They were quick to spot Roberts and Edward and made their way over. I noticed Torres was limping slightly as he came up to us. I think I remember having seen him on the ground at some point during the Assassin's ambush just before Roberts ran off, so the fall must have caused some damage to his older more brittle body.

As soon as he was close enough, El Tiburón reached and grabbed onto Roberts' other shoulder and took over for Edward, giving the pirate a slight nod of his helmeted head. Edward inclined his head in response, and then reached into a pouch on his belt that held his spherical bullets to re-load his empty pistol. When Roberts looked and saw this, he frowned deeply.

I had to cover my mouth with one hand to stiffen any giggles—even though no one would hear them—when I saw that he just realized that Edward's firearm had been empty the whole time he had been recaptured. But I continued to be careful in continuing to avoid looking at his eyes.

As Edward reloaded his pistols, I watched du Casse—his bloody arm was now sporting a makeshift bandage, from his own skirt if I had to guess—start to follow El Tiburón, who was now forcibly leading Roberts away. "We'll see him to the prisons, Grand Master," the weapons smuggler promised the old man.

"Double the watch," Torres ordered after them.

With every step Roberts took away from me, I found myself breathing a little easier—when did I tense up?—and by the time he disappeared from view with El Tiburón and du Casse, I was completely at ease. It was almost as if something dark and scary had just passed by and decided I wasn't worth anything to it so it left me alone.

Which is just completely illogical!

But then, nothing really makes sense in this Animus.

"Well, I'll be buggered!" I jumped slightly and turned swiftly to look at Captain Rogers. "What an active day we've had, gents!"

…

Is he actually cheerful?! He was just in a bloody battle! He could have lost his life!

…but then again, he's a pirate hunter, right? He must live for battles like this. To him, battle must be an adrenaline run.

…A very sickening kind of adrenaline run…

Yeesh!

"Sí," Torres agreed, though his tone was nowhere near cheerful. It aired more on the side of caution—as it should I suppose. "Beset on all sides by our enemies. We must be more cautious."

"I do wish I could remain to see our drama done!" Captain Rogers continued on, his voice still caught up in its cheerfulness—it's making me want to keep a few steps away from him. Cheerfulness does not fit on a face like his. "But I must avail myself of these winds and sail for England."

Torres nodded his understanding and shook Captain Rogers' offered hand. "By all means, Captain. Speed and fortune to you."

Captain Rogers smiled—another thing that just did not fit on his face—and then shook hands with Edward. "With luck, I'll return myself a governor. And with my idiot King's blessing, no less. ¡Adiós!"

Governor Rogers?

I could feel in Edward's emotions that he did not like the sound of that. Neither did I truth be told.

A pirate hunter, a government official and a secret Templar all in one?

Not a good combination for Edward or his kind.

It certain isn't something that leaves a pleasing taste in my mouth either.

Especially since it makes me wonder just exactly how many Templars are secretly within the governments of the world…in this century and in mine.

Big business corporation is one thing, government is quite another. But both are places I wouldn't want the Templars to be in…in any century.

Torres once again pulled me out of my thoughts. "As for you, Mr. Walpole… I consider this the first payment in a long-term investment."

From somewhere on his belt behind his back, the old man pulled out a handbag that could fit in the palm of your hand. It was rather stuffed with coins—some coins were making impressions against the fabric, showing just exactly how stuffed it was.

Ah! That must Edward's long-waited reward…a reward stained with the blood of Assassins.

Blood money…the worst kind of money out there.

But Edward wouldn't agree. I just knew he would not. He did all this—killing Walpole, delivering those stupid maps, killing the Assassins coming to rescue Roberts—all for that bag of gold.

I felt the urge to knock it out of the old man's hand as Edward reached for it. But it wouldn't do me any good. My hand would just pass through it. So I had to settle for merely crossing my arms as Edward took the reward from the old man.

"Gracias," Torres thanked.

Huh? What the?

A spike of dissatisfaction shot through me from the man next to me.

What the heck was wrong with Edward now?

What does he have to be disappointed about?

"Obliged," Edward replied, though if you listen closely enough he didn't sound very pleased.

"I would like you to be present for the interrogation tomorrow," Torres told him before he started to leave, "Call around noon."

"Yes, sir."

As we both watched the old man leave and disappear into the crowd, I felt Edward becoming more and more irritated, and as soon as Torres was out of sight, he began to allow him to express his exasperation by balancing the bag of coins in his hand up in down in a frustrated state.

His irritation was making me irritated as well, if only because I couldn't figure out what his problem was this time. "What is it now?" I said out loud standing in front of him so I could see his face properly since his hood was still up, "Aren't you satisfied? You got your reward! Isn't that enough for you?"

…

I do not like that look on his face.

It could only mean trouble…with a capital T.

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