II

Nothing Is True

October of 1977

Bureau Of

The Assassins,

London

Darkness had fallen upon the streets of Southwark, it was rare to see anyone out at this time of night, whether patrolling policemen, or the average worker, there were no saunters or murmurs, only the cold, bitter night.

There was no peculiarity on the nocturn, an ordinary time that would pass soon for the morning when it would all begin again, nothing special.

For the ordinary folk that was.

'Crouth would likely be in study by the time you reach the manor.' Informed Emilia Frye to her cousin, in front of her laid rolled parchments, sketches that were countless years old, it was ancient and worn.

It may not have been a peculiar night, but the sight of seeing such ancient sources in an era like the 70's certainly was.

The Assassins had and would never give up their flare for the dramatics, they wore robes and garbs of the 1800's, carried smoke pellets, blades that were strapped to their arms, some did opt guns, but others did swords, but one thing they all had in common was the insignia encrusted into the garbs they wore, an achievement like no other.

The skull of the eagle, the intricate triangle with no base, held up by a semicircle, the mark that carried the ideals of their order for centuries, the ideals of freedom, of peace.

But one had to earn it.

That was what Diana Greene had to do.

'There are three soldiers guarding his manor, from the intel I've gotten, one would be at the gates, the other in the back gardens, and the last would be around Crouth the entire time, guarding his bedroom when he sleeps, his study when he's… studying.' Emilia continued, handing over the polaroid of the man to her cousin.

Diana, in her hidden eagerness snatched the photo, her eyes boring into the bald man, pale, wrinkled, overweight. His gaze focused on something ahead the picture did not catch, what it did however was the insignia on the coat, the red cross that she and every one of her fellow family members and assassins have grown to loathe.

The Templars.

'I'm ready.' Diana stated, her voice unwavering, she put the picture into one of her many coat pockets, the plain black fitted robes, though practical and adjusted to her circumstances paled to the outfit she would be awarded, her great-grandmother's robe.

'Do you have everything?' Came the worried voice from behind her, turning, Diana met with her mother who immediately fussed over her outfit, counting the daggers, rechecking for any loose buttons, everything a mother would do before sending her daughter to murder a man.

'I'm fine mother.' Diana sighed, her eyes already blinded by the prospect of getting initiated with her new blade and robes in merely a few hours, not a single thought that led to believe she would fail.

'You need to stop fussing Maya, look at poor Diana's face.'

'Father,' groaned Diana. 'I can't be any late as I already am, you can keep the pleasantries for when I return.'

'It is my job as your father to make sure your safe, even from incessant affection.' James Greene grinned, patting her shoulder.

Maya glared, stepping away from her daughter. 'My affection is not incessant, merely your lack of knowledge, if you seriously had an ounce of common sense, I wouldn't be here stitching the tears in your robes every time-

Diana effectively muted out the bubbling argument, walking to Emilia once more, her cousin, initiated two years ago and already an assassin, worked closely to gather intel with their connections that stretched far from nobles to street urchins.

'Be careful.' Emilia advised.

'Is that all?'

'Don't die.'

'Oh, they can't get rid of me that easily.' Diana remarked.

'Diana.' Called her father, in a tone more serious now, the argument with her mother already dissolved.

'I told you Father; I want-

'I know, but I know that none of the fights with your fellow brothers and sisters have led to them dying.'

Diana understood his worry, but he was seriously underestimating her abilities, James Greene may as well know what he was doing, but if this was an attempt to make her scurry away, then it was futile.

'You are devoted to the cause like all of us and I deeply appreciate that, but that does not mean you can't serve us in other ways.'

'Father,' sighed Diana, 'I understand, but this is what I want, for a long time, and I am sure of this. Murder is not a good deed, I know, but for the greater good… it must be done.'

Maya and Emilia watched the exchange silently with varying levels of alarm and worry. The former wanted to intervene but forced herself not to.

James Greene said nothing else but, 'Good luck, Diana.'

Biting her tongue, Diana gave him a firm nod, a wave to both women before turning on her heel, and jumping out of the window behind, marking the beginning of her quest.

Though assassins worked in broad daylight, they were, like owls, nocturnal predators.

Diana Greene leaped from one rooftop after another, the soles of her boots anchoring her to the walls she scaled with ease, the gloves she wore cushioning her palms from harshness of the stone and glass.

Perching herself on top of the unknown home of a likely sleeping person, she concentrated, her brown eyes glazed over, any person who saw her at this time would turn away frightened for the colour of her eyes had paled into a golden.

Her surroundings went black at first, then appeared the gray outlines of every object, the cracks and crevices, the words and symbols, everything she saw with her normal vision.

Colors appeared then, every person, either inside their homes, or hiding down in alleyways glowed in flurry of a bright blue, indicating their harmlessness.

Diana looked up, her sight was now on the Crouth Manor, nestled between gates and trees alike, figures appeared in the blue from before, the outlines of women, all sleeping in a chamber a level beneath the ground floors, maids, she noted. Soon came the figures in the red, but it was more than three.

The intel was wrong.

There were twenty guards, all glowing in an illuminated crimson, perched on different areas of the house, but the ones guarding the real treasure were seven, locked away in the study.

All these notes of red paled while comparing to the figure they guarded, Maxwell Crouth was highlighted in a deep yellow gold, signaling he was her target.

Diana stopped to think whether this was planned all along, the false information embedded into her mind, to test her, of her worthiness, to see if she would cower and come crawling back to the bureau in fear.

Of course, there was the equally plausible reason that the intel was wrong solely due to misinformation and handling on Emilia's part, but Diana chose to believe the former.

Diana, already having sealed her fate the moment she shot through the window and safety of her bureau and to the streets of Southwark, leapt from the rooftop she once stood, the silence of the night broke as she landed on the heap of hay conveniently placed under.

Her vision not yet changed, Diana crept over the iron gates of the brick and unlit manor, a startling contrast to what was now the 1970's of London, with artificial lights and billboards, here it was looking at a picture pulled from the Victorian Era, beautifully dull, Diana liked the vintage place, a pinch it would be to part with it, but she was here on a quest.

Her left palm clutched one of the throwing knives, making quick work of the one guard on the balcony, the single that was alone and easier to take, his death would make sure she would not easily be detected.

His death was necessary. She told herself.

Looking around to make sure there were no nearby men, she stood halfway from the bush she hid in, and dashed over to the brick wall, her fingers wrapping around the hard surface, she pushed herself up, like a silent leopard, Diana swung her legs over to the side meeting with the railings of the balcony and climbed over.

The glazed eyes of the dead guard stared at her, she looked away, long enough to notice the pistol the man was armed with, he could have easily killed a girl with smoke pellets, throwing knives and a dagger, it was self-defense.

She was here for Maxwell Crouth, and however she found him, she promised herself to try in the very least, not kill any of the other men.

Diana peeked inside, there were guards surrounding the staircases, as well as twice the amount in front of a room, which had to be the study, since she could see Crouth even through the closed doors and brick walls, bent over his desk, writing something.

She measured her options, either she could kill all the ones guarding the hallway and door to the study with her knives and directly break the promise she made mere seconds ago, or she could drop her smoke pellets, break into the study, drop another one, assassinate Crouth, take his ring as proof and escape, read tomorrow's newspaper, and get initiated into the Order.

Which one then?

Diana Greene pulled up her face covering – it was better to be safe than sorry – and leapt from her crouch, a guard immediately spotting her was about to yell when two smoke pellet hit the posh wool carpets.

The men were blinded, as well as their oxygen cut off temporarily, Diana unsurprisingly safe due to her mask and hood as well as the Eagle Vision enabled her senses better.

Pushing through the coughs and grunts of the gunmen, Diana slammed her full weight onto the study door, as she expected, the hinges went loose and the door swung open, revealing a startled group of red figures, along with a flabby gold hunk fallen from his chair and onto the ground.

'Pathetic.' She muttered; it was no wonder why the man needed so much protection.

Diana dropped another smoke bomb over to where the hulk of his personal bodyguards stood, letting them share the same fate as their friends outside the study.

She quickly but casually strutted over to Crouth, kneeling next to the shaking man, her dagger glimmered from her thigh strap, unsheathing it, she brought the edge of the blade over to the neck of the wide-eyed man, and pressed it against his flesh.

'W-What do you want?! I can g-give you money! P-Please!' Maxwell Crouth stuttered, not yet prepared to understand his end would be coming from a mere girl in black.

Diana was angered at the man's assumption, she was no petty mercenary, rather a respectful and dignified Assassin, her kind worked in the dark to serve the night, disgusted, she glared at the man, fiercely lifted her sleeve, the dark lines of a tattooed eagle skull met his wet eyes.

'A-Assassin.' Mumbled Crouth, his final words before he met the end of Diana Greene's blade.

She watched him fall limp into the ground, his hands clutching his throat, helplessly trying to control the crimson pooling around him, his eyes were glassy, the lifeless man stared at the painted wall before him.

Without a word, Diana grabbed the limp man's hand, clad on his left middle finger was the silver band, the much-hated insignia glared back at her, the red cross of the Templars, she pulled it out of the man's finger with much difficulty, at one point wanting to cut his finger off, but that was not needed.

The ring was proof of her deeds, of her accomplishment.

'KILL HER!'

Diana swiftly turned on her heel, the guards outside the study had passed through the effects of the smoke invasion, she realized then she has overstayed her welcome.

'Shit.'

Narrowly missing a bullet headed her way, Diana ducked under Crouth's desk, the wood acted as a temporary shield from the non-stopping assaults of gunshots, reaching over to grab another smoke pellet, she found her pocket empty, save for two throwing knives.

Curse whoever thought it would be a good idea to send her on a death mission like, but coming to think of it, she had multiple chances to decline it, but she did not. She wanted this and Diana would not be backing down, she would live to see another day, to see herself wielding a hidden blade in the legendary Evie Frye's robes.

The last two knives were timed, the moment Diana heard the quietening of the shots for reloading, she shot ahead from the desk, one blade lodged itself on the head of a gunman, the second on the spleen of another one.

But there were still seventeen left.

What now then?

All Diana had left was her dagger smeared with the blood of the Templar, her enemy. Once again, the volley of shots quieted, Diana wondered whether their ammunition had finally been emptied or if this was a ploy to get her to attack.

Soon enough, she discovered it was the latter, the ammunition lit up in a gold from her sight, and one man who glowed red held a finger to his lips over to the others, signaling them to quiet down.

Diana had her dagger clutched tightly in her hand, waiting for the man, she pulled her mask down, the cloth was disrupting her breathing, she needed it out of the way.

The man glowing in red approached her, he was mere inches away from her, suddenly he revealed himself, the pistol in on his wrist, with a glare hateful like the sun, he went to pull the trigger when Diana rose from the desk, her dagger pushed its end onto the man's neck, her third kill of the night.

But it was a foolish move for she revealed her side onto the line of fire, as the guard she had stabbed fell limp beside Crouth, her eyes met the other gunmen, Diana loathed to say it, but in this case, she was the deer caught by the hunter's snare.

Diana Greene should have died that moment, she should have failed her first quest, she should have never been able to see herself as an Assassin, never to gloat about her achievements, she would have died a pitiful death.

But she did not.

Diana was blinded by a sudden flashing light, right in front of her, she fell, her back colliding with the ground, she heard screams, deafening ones that sent a shiver down her spine, until nothing.

Opening her eyes was an irritating sensation, with all sense of caution she had, Diana crawled over to the desk, blinking countless times, her vision was now back to normal, she saw colors that any other normal human did.

Tearing her eyes away from the two corpses in front of her, Diana peeped from her hiding place, finding the area suspiciously quiet, surprised to see nothing, she slowly stood up, pulling her dagger from her the guard she killed before, she stepped away completely from the desk.

Diana was shocked.

All sixteen of the gunmen left, laid collapsed on the floor unconscious, she went over to one of them, shakily held her hand above the man's nose, to see he was still inhaling, his chest rising and falling in a sleeping rhythm, it did not take long for her to find out all the others were in the same state.

Countless questions ran through her head, Diana pulled her hood down, anxiously weaving her fingers through her tight bun, black strands messily falling from the style.

What even happened?

Diana knew she was a rarity among her fellow peers, her family were one of the very few and rare ones to have descended from generations of Assassins, but their blood was also mixed with the blood of the Isu, the beings who once ruled over humans, long before religion, class, and society.

Her special sight was proof of her lineage.

But was there something else to be known about?

Diana then realized any of the men could wake up soon, she was not safe here to ponder upon the force that prevented her inevitable demise today.

This was no part of her mission but since they were all unconscious, she decided to loot their riches, it was nothing much, but it was good to have one's own money, she felt no guilt since thievery was taught to her by her own mother.

Also, something Diana decided to hurriedly grab were a few documents lying on Maxwell Crouth's desk, she did not find the time to skim through it but left with it anyway.

Diana escaped from a window in Maxwell Crouth's study, she had succeeded in her quest.

She would be an Assassin.

But what was it that helped her succeed it in the first place?

The shot of light, the ooze of involuntary power, the unknown savior.

What was it?