The Third Life: A New Threat
We're back and ready to go. Thanks, guys, for all the support you've given, and your patience.
Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC
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Inspired by historical events and an over-active imagination, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a single-cultural team of one religious faith and belief, sexual orientation, and gender identity.
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June 17, 1775
Charlestown
"What would you know of victory!?" Connor and Jake heard as they approached the Patriot encampment on Bread's Hill.
"Oh, hey," Jake said flatly. "It's Old Put."
"Who?"
"An old fart that I introduced to cigars back in Cuba. He's got a strong voice and a passionate heart, but he absolutely sucks at battle. Which explains why the Patriots are losing right now. Granted, the cannons from those ships out there aren't helping, but still."
Connor and Jake rode up the hill on horseback and arrived just in time to see a hail of cannonfire rip through one poor man's leg.
"I rest my case," a grizzled man in an officer's coat said from behind a cigar.
"General Putnam," Connor said after the man.
"What!?" Putnam turned, and his eyes widened. "Captain Swallow! Who the hell's the kid?"
"Your lord and savior, Connor. Connor, this is Israel Putnam, who has no religious inclination despite his name."
Connor cocked a brow, unfamiliar with European religion in general, having not been schooled in it by Achilles, and was therefore confused about Jake's reference. He made a note to ask the man about it at a later date.
"Bah! I've got more things to worry about right now than words from old books."
"Then tell me where to find John Pitcairn," Connor insisted.
"That ass in holed up in the city with no reason to come out as long as those ships are raining cannonballs on us."
Connor picked up a discarded Patriot flag. "I will fly this to signal my success."
"And I will speak fondly at you at your funeral." Putnam turned away, discarding Jake and Connor from his mind.
The Assassin made a gesture with his chin at Putnam, and went away for the harbor, Jake not following. Instead, he chose to go after Putnam.
"Fat fool."
"Old bastard. Any words of advice for me, Captain?"
Jake crossed his arms, and just stood there when a cannonball impacted the ground ten feet away from him, showering him with dirt.
"Well, one good idea is to not be on this stupid hill where those boats have a direct line of fire to you. Another good idea is to not line up and just go marching across the field into their guns over there."
Putnam blinked. "That's always how we've conducted warfare. We line up in a firing line, they do the same, and then we shoot at each other until one line breaks."
Jake watched as once such line of Patriots went marching out and were promptly mowed down by a wave of British musket balls.
"…how's that working out?"
"Have you got any better suggestions, then!?" Putnam yelled. He was a man quick to shouting, after all.
"Yes," Jake said calmly. "This is a new world and a new age. A ragtag band of rebels is going up against the world's most powerful army—conventional tactics aren't going to work for you out here. You need to improvise, think outside the box, mix things up."
"What are you getting at, old man…?"
Jake turned to Putnam, dark eyes glittering. "You ever heard of guerilla warfare?"
And that was how a mulatto man changed war forever.
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"…do not fire until you see the whites of their eyes!"
Connor returned to the Patriots just in time to here Putnam's final words of motivation. The soldiers broke and took up arms, with the Assassin joining the two older men at the lip of the hill.
"It is done."
"I'll be damned," Putnam said. "You lived."
"I take it you blew up the ships?" Jake asked.
"Yes," Connor blinked.
"Would've been a better idea to take some Patriots and commandeer them instead and turn those cannons up a little bit to fire on the British over there," Jake shrugged. "Oh, well. Pitcairn's just over the way."
Connor looked over the small valley, and noted the veritable sea of Redcoats unleashing systematic volleys of gunfire, and the scattered Patriots hiding behind rocks, logs, and anything else that could cover their bodies, timing their own gunshots. It was chaos down there.
"Choose your approach," Jake grinned.
The Assassin noted that in the distance there seemed to be a path nestled among the trees, leading behind the hill Pitcairn had set camp up on. Without verbalizing anything, Connor was off.
"He's madder than a march hare," Putnam noted.
"Naw," Jake said. "Just really dedicated, and really capable. That boy's going to do great things down the line."
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Like make it across a raging battlefield completely unscathed, sneak through a small British encampment undetected, climb through some tree and up a flagpole to leap thirty feet through the air to assassinate a man on a horse, and then enter a pocket dimension outside of time and space so he could have a quick, insightful TED talk with his latest kill.
"Why…why have you done this?" Pitcairn coughed.
"To protect Adams and Hancock. You sought to kill them and those they serve," Connor answered.
"Kill them?" the Templar cried, aghast. "Are you mad? We only wanted to parlay-"
"Parlay?" a new voice cut in, and the two looked up to see Jake Swallow, clad in his black coat and hat, pistols secured to his form, approaching steadily. "Damned to the depths with whatever whelp that of parlay."
"That would be the French," Pitcairn croaked.
"Ah, that explains it." Jake kneeled next to the Templar. "Anyway, how, exactly, do you think a parlay with the Patriots is going to go? The only thing they're going to accept at this point is for you and every other Redcoat and Loyalist to pack up and go back home so they can run their new country however they deem fit, and I'm quite sure that the king isn't going to just allow that to happen. So, please, educate Connor and I as to what your idea of a parlay with the Patriots would be like."
With what Jake had put on the table, Pitcairn didn't have an answer. The Templar did truly want to end this war before more could die, but the end he and his brothers had in mind was a world of supreme order and control with them at the helm, and everyone doing as they were told so that there could be no more wars or fights or arguments that sprung about due to the curse of free will.
Pitcairn might've been able to defeat some as young, brash, and inexperienced as Connor in the likes of philosophy, but Jake? Who had taken down Master Haytham in a battle of words? The Templar didn't stand a chance, and the old pirate knew it.
That was why his eyes were glittering and his grin taunting.
Still, Pitcairn wasn't out of cards yet. He turned his bloodstained face back to Connor.
"You follow a twofaced madman and a liar. He knows of the truth and merit behind our cause, but would still allow the Assassins to take up arms and allow the world to continue to unravel and fall into chaos. It was him that helped we Templars depose the Colonial Assassins, and it was him that destroyed Kingston decades ago. He walks and speaks like a man, but he's a devil."
Those were Pitcairn's final words, and the Templar's last earthly sight was that of Connor turning a dark look to Jake. Because he died, he didn't get to see the mad grin that threatened to split Jake's face.
Bearing only two-thirds of a soul did some things to one's mind, after all.
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East Coast
1775
Jake had told Connor years ago that he was going to pay for all the Aquila's upgrades, and he did just that. Top of the line cannons, swivels, and armor. The best ram money could get in this time. The best bunks for the crew, the best muskets, swords, and pistols. Top-notch sails, even a customized wheel and figurehead.
Unfortunately, in Jake's opinion at least, there wasn't enough room at the bow for mortars or chase cannons.
Like the pirate had said, he was doing all of this out of his own pocket and that Connor wouldn't have to pay a pound, only pay back the debt with service, and that's exactly what was happening here. Cruising through the waters of the East Coast, the Aquila was on the hunt for British ships that were blocking trade routes between the colonists and France.
However, this was also the ripe opportunity for Connor to finally grill Jake about Pitcairn's last words, as he never had the chance in these past few months, being busy with the Homestead and Frontier work.
"What was Pitcairn talking about?"
And Jake came completely clean, seeing zero reason as to why he should lie or omit anything from someone less than a third of his age. He told Connor about Mary Read and his sibling-like relationship with her, his botched trip to Europe that ended up with him over two thousand years in the past thanks to a Piece of Eden, his return to the present six years later, and his greatest regret in flattening Kingston and dishonoring Mary's memory.
Then he recounted the numerous faults of the Colonial Brotherhood under Achilles, such as Kesegowaase's attack on Albany, Hope Jensen's tactic of using gangs throughout the Colonies, flying the Assassin symbol high enough for everyone and their dog to look at it, and Achilles' authorization of tampering with the Precursor sights which resulted in the destruction of Lisbon and Haiti. All three tenants of the Creed broken.
Then Jake told Connor of how he helped Haytham, Shay, and the rest bring down the Colonial Brotherhood piece by piece, establishing a firm Templar hold over the New World, and his reasoning was that it was better that level-headed Templars be in control of things, rather than out of control Assassins that had no regard for the Creed.
"Then why are you helping me now?" Connor demanded.
"Because there's a war going on right now for the freedom of a new nation, the Assassins fight for freedom, and I like you," Jake shrugged. "Nothing too complex or difficult to understand. However, if you wish for me to go and assist the Templars, merely say so and I'll go do it."
Connor absolutely did not want for that to happen, because he knew Jake was a dangerous man, and that crossing him was bad for anyone's health. The man was also extremely well-connected, seemingly knowing everyone they came across, and among that list was none other than George Washington himself, the Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army. Jake could very easily turn Washington against Connor and the Assassins, and could also quite possibly have the Homestead marched upon and destroyed.
Obviously, that was something Connor desperately wanted to avoid.
Besides, the punishment for breaking the tenants of the Creed was death, so Jake had truthfully fulfilled his duty as an honorary Assassin and couldn't really be faulted…not counting the fact that he helped the Templars rise to power.
A moot point, though, Connor figured, since he was an Assassin now, and was actively hunting down the Templars one by one, removing their influence from the Colonies and helping to establish a new country of free men.
Deciding Jake had done right by the Creed, and was now making up for helping the Templars and his shelling of Kingston by aiding him in his war, Connor switched gears to a topic that he had remembered to file away for later.
"When we met General Putnam, you said he had so religious inclination despite his name. What did you mean?"
"In the Bible, there is a man called Jacob, with whom God made a covenant with. Jacob's name was later changed to Israel after he and God wrestled, and Jacob prevailed. It means Prince with God."
Connor blinked. "A supposedly all-powerful being fought with a man, and lost?"
"Come now, Connor, you're too smart to think so literally. You have to appreciate the symbolism, and how that event sets up hundreds of years of history."
"I thought the Abrahamic religions, and all religions, were false because it was just Precursors being mistaken as gods, and the miracles spoken of accomplished with Pieces of Eden."
Jake turned to Connor, his eyes glittering and the corners of his mouth curled upward in a mad smirk. As the Assassin stared into those eyes, he began to get lost in the wisdom there. He began to comprehend just how old Jake really was, and all the things he had seen. The man had been to parts of the world Connor had never heard of; he was privy to mysteries of the Earth that many millions would never be.
"There are things in this world," Jake said, "that mortal men will never be able to understand or comprehend. There are pieces of the puzzle out there to be found, but those pieces only lead to more and more questions. There are things that appear to be simple and easy, but are more complex than you could ever dream. Take heed, Connor: nothing is true, and everything is permitted. Now sail your boat."
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It wasn't very long until the Aquila found what she was looking for. The sounds of ship battle were rather conspicuous, after all. Sailing past a rock formation, the crew was able to beat witness to a British man-o-war taking on no less than a dozen Patriot schooners and three frigates, with the surrounding water belaying that already many more ships had been sunk.
The man-o-war unleashed a full broadside at the right time and felled six schooners, and then it fired its other side and brought down a frigate, and then it unleashed a hail of mortar fire that damaged the other two frigates. By that time, the cannons were reloaded, and the two latter ships went down with a flurry of cannonballs, which left only six schooners left.
"Feet to quarters!" Connor roared.
The Aquila's alarm bell went off and the crew scrambled to battle stations.
"Turn around," Jake said grimly, his arms crossed.
"What?" Connor and Faulkner asked at once.
"This ship. Turn it around. Right now."
"Why?" the men asked in synch.
Jake whipped around, eyes practically ablaze. "Now Connor!"
The Assassin yanked the wheel starboard and the Aquila turned sharply, the crew having to brace themselves against rigging and railing so they didn't go overboard and into the water. And then the winds suddenly died, and the water began to seemingly push against the Ghost of the North Seas.
"Not good," Jake, muttered, "not good."
"Jake, what is this, what's happening?" Connor asked, startled at why his ship was no longer going left and right despite him turning the wheel.
The old pirate ignored the boy and instead took up the spyglass, training it to the helm of the British ship. He saw the helmsman operating the wheel, the first mate, and then there was the captain. Dressed in the standard garb for a British naval captain, two swords at his hips, one standard, the other not so much. His hand was outstretched towards the Aquila, a look of concentration on his face, and Jake could see through the spyglass two very important things:
The captain's startling sea green eyes, and through Eagle Vision, on top of the red aura of an enemy, was an aura just as green as those eyes.
"Captain!" Faulkner cried, the Aquila getting pulled towards the British ship.
"I know, Mr. Faulkner! She's not responding!"
A grim weight settled onto Jake's shoulders as he realized that this could literally be the end. They were up against someone they could not beat in this arena. Where Connor and Faulkner and the rest of the crew had probably seen artillery, Jake had seen the rising of waves and the smashing of ships against one another.
Considering the British military was comprised of Roman demigods, Jake was positive about who the captain of that ship was, and they were at as much a disadvantage as you could ever possibly be.
However, Jake knew from experience that demigod powers needed concentration.
"Muskets!" the pirate barked. "Bring me every musket we've got, and make sure they're all loaded. Now!"
The swivel gun operators sprang into action to go get the guns, and Jake pulled his pistols, muttering to himself.
"This is exactly why I wanted mortars on this bitch….Alright, baby, get ready to get your ass in gear. We gonna need you."
Jake began shooting in the general direction of the enemy helm, and the effects were immediate. The enemy demigod's concentration must've broke, because the winds suddenly came alive, catching the sails at full tilt, and the current returned to normal. The Aquila lurched forward and achieved her top speed in a matter of seconds.
Jake received his muskets, and he aimed and fired each one, handing the used guns to the guy next to him for reloading. Through his efforts, Jake was able to keep enough pressure up on the demigod for the Aquila to make her escape.
Once in the clear, Jake explained in as simple a way as he could the reason for the retreat order.
"I've been around for a long time, and I've seen a lot of Precursor stuff. As it turns out, some of them developed the power to bend certain forces of nature, such as weather, fire, water, etc. The captain of that ship? He has such a power."
"My God…" Faulkner breathed. "How are the Patriots ever going to have a naval presence if the British have a monster like that on their side?"
Connor and his first mate both looked at Jake, since it always seemed that the old pirate had an answer. This time, however, the captain was silent, staring grimly ahead at the ocean before him, his mind back in another place, in another time…
"Captain."
Connor's voice broke Jake from his thoughts. "Yes?"
"The name of that ship—did you happen to see it?"
"Aye."
"And?"
"She's the Son of Neptune," Jake said grimly.
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I'm giggling to myself as I finish with this chapter. I'm going to have so much fun with this new little tangent I have created.
Any guesses as to how Jake's going to defeat this new threat?
The next chapter involves Hickey and Bridewell prison, the Declaration of Independence and Jake's opinion on it, as well an event that I won't spoil, but will hint at: go check the timeline and see what events are happening in the year 1776 for Assassin's Creed.
Fav, Follow, and Review please!
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