(I feel like I've been forgetting something these past few chapters...)

Oh, you mean that little subplot with the main character of Assassin's Creed Rogue is just vibing in Gamindustri?

(Uuhhh, yeah. That... Almost forgot to send you the rest of your script on that one.)

How do you even...

(Look man just start reading already)

I- whatever.


I OWN NOTHING IN THIS FANFICTION EXCEPT FOR MY OC. I DON'T OWN MUCH OF ANYTHING WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT...

[Shay Cormac and George Monro's crib]

Currently speeding through the bland and tight straightaway hallways. Past the few large rooms littered across the vast square acres with blistering pace and a surprising lack of sound. Two men zoomed silently and efficiently through a complex and deceptively repeating labyrinth they were infiltrating. WIth one drastically far behind the other And all while Sonic 06's opening theme blared from invisible speakers.

Soundlessly (aside from the music blaring from nothing) they dispatched any guard they'd come across, unsuspecting or otherwise.

As fluidly as water itself, a red hooded figure rushed over to another victim, a guard of sorts if the fully automatic rifle at the person's heavily armoured hip was anything to go by. The poor shuck wasn't even facing the direction of his attackers, nor did he get any time to fathom he was even attacked. Then again, did he feel such an attack to begin with?

*Thwip!*

His post and schedule were evidently taken into account beforehand, as the guy was effortlessly dispatched by a display of practised teamwork. The leading intruder attacked first with a sweeping manoeuvre at the unsuspecting guard. Flinging him off balance, upside down and in the air. Easy picking for a blitzing follow-up attack that ensued.

How? The man was covered head to toe in what looked like spartan class armour, melee shouldn't have been too much of a problem.

And yet he was flung off his feet in the comical "banana peel slip".

*Zip!*

What happened next took place so fast that not even a sound was made from the man being assailed before a tiny projectile nailed itself within the struck male's nape from out of absolutely nowhere. Deleting a hole in the heavy-looking armour as if it were wet tissue paper.

Before his descent could've even begun, the man sagged unconscious. And the awake one snatched the corpse from out of the air, resting it on the other side of the doorway he was standing in front of.

"How many does that make?" The shadow-shrouded male asked the silence of the now vacant room he occupied.

"That makes nineteen so far," The further back hooded figure spoke with a western accent from the distance, his grip on the handles of the twin magnums he held at his sides tightening. "The next three corners should be across lots."

More than likely this was the person the first figure aimed his question at. No, this was undoubtedly the question's target.

How did whatever escaped those carbon jet black monsters not let out an explosion loud enough to ring throughout the complex? They shot tranquillizers. A extraordinarily damn fast projectile comprised of 99% ice and capable of piercing concrete at close to medium ranges, sure. But the object's purpose and means of execution excused it as having earned its place under such a classification.

"Now makes twenty. How many are left?" Grunted the other maroon cloaked presence, he would withdraw his blade from another well-armoured individual he'd attacked off-screen a few feet away. Allowing the felled to ragdoll onto the cold hard tiles below.

That was either someone who miraculously heard what had taken place a couple of seconds earlier, or was just patrolling. Either way, he was no longer an issue.

"'Round five," Was the western accent's response, "But they're more optional than required since our escape route is simply too far for them to interrupt."

"hm," A pair of blue eyes nodded within the shadows of his cloak, "Then we'll leave them be, these poor patsies seem to be more paperweight than highly paid guards so far..."

"Not to mention how easily we've gotten through clearing out the place..." The tranqslinger added in, "It's as if we were expected and this Cormac fella put his heavy hitters away and left these straw men so he can make an elaborate trap."

"Best we leave those five then," He would finish with his dual swords drawn and brandished in a defensive position, "We've wasted enough time as is."

YEET!. MP3

*ZAP!*

With that, the sword user would then through one of his blades. Yeeting the left held weapon faster than most athletes' eyes could've tracked before promptly disappearing in a light blue silhouette of himself and the sound of a low hum.

"Agreed," The ranger near-instantly nodded back.

He too disappeared. Except his mode of leaving the frame involved a small puff of smoke, dust and sand surrounding and replacing his figure. Soon after a set of black speed lines barrelled from the opaque cloud, quick enough to rival the speed his ally's weapon was thrown at.

*ZAP!*

Reappearing a great distance away from where he was a second ago. The first red-robed man to leave zapped back into existence as he had left, spawning himself in the nook of a long corner. His medium of travel gripped tightly and still facing the direction it was thrown from in all of its blackened glory. With a swift motion, he then recovered the apparatus at the side of his head and began readying himself to throw his weapon again.

YEET!. MP3

*ZAP!*

Similarly, the male disappears into an aqua blue. Repeating the process he used to recover and manoeuvre another time, then another. Reappearing a final time within the confines of a 15x20m room. A box with a pretty high and white ceiling, although the gypsum seemed to be the only decoration there seeing how bland the matching white tiles lined the walls and floors.

The man hummed as he waited and looked around to take in these details. 'Three, two, one.' He counted internally, pointing at the open door he'd thrown his weapon through.

*Fwoosh!*

Right on queue, the other identity-hidden individual joins the scene, surrounded by a plume of yellow sand and orange smoke that slowly dissipated around his reddened cloak. A sphere that projected a hologram of an unknown language in hand, the same one he held when he was in his ally's car.

"This the place? " The man asked upon entry, taking in the undecorated room void of furniture. A common denominator when it came to the setup of this place.

Eerily so...

"You're the one with the map, IV.," Deadpanned the closest still cognizant occupant of the textureless temple. Sounding more tired than a dad on a road trip with that one kid that keeps going "Are we there yet?" every ten seconds.

"Heh," IV. couldn't help but chuckle a little, "There's a stairwell hidden on the wall."

"Which one?" Good question other Roman Numeral.

"Hm..." Too bad the gunslinger in front of you didn't seem to have an answer. At least not immediately since he began furiously tapping on all sorts of unfamiliar symbols after the other upon hearing the question.

He continued to do so for several seconds until an answer exited the adult's lips.

"The Informant made it clear that the stairs are to your right, VI.," IV. literally pointed out to his left, "Just step on the third tile to the corner and drag your foot forward."

After giving his partner a tentative listen, the now name revealed VI. did as he was told. Stepping on the specific tile, the man dragged his steel-tipped boot across the porcelain with no issue and barely a sound escaping between the frictional surfaces.

All for nothing to happen. Causing a seed of doubt to begin sprouting within VI.'s mind.

"You sure-" About to verbalize his qualms, the blue-eyed individual was swiftly interrupted by the first two words.

*Tremble...*

Although a few seconds late it seemed, a decently sized hole began to open from the corner of the room. Around two meters tall.

"Don't doubt the Informant," IV. chastised with folded arms and a brown-eyed frown as he witnessed the trap doorway slowly open itself. Revealing a twisting and winding set of white steps as it did.

"Don't doubt the Informant," VI. repeated mostly to himself in a slightly shaken awe.

It didn't take too long for it to happen, but eventually, the doorway fully opened. It had slid itself near-frictionlessly done so, emitting barely any detectable stimuli. outside of a slight trembling of the floor and the image of it moving provided by the reflection of light it had projected.

"Time to head above snakes," IV. wasted no time in commenting as he made a step forward. "The Dickins is waitin'."

"...Whatever you say," VI. sighed as he lead the way onward and up the ascending spiralling stairway. The music would calm down from what it was to some generic elevator music.

Their ascension was in dark but enjoyable silence. No party said anything as it wasn't necessary to do so. They already had a plan discussed not ten minutes ago when they were in the car. Aside from some footsteps barely heard by each other, not a sound was uttered all the way up to the top.

"The door doesn't lock," Finally making a statement, IV. decides to warn his friend of the exit they were a second or two away from.

"..." Saying nothing back, the other Roman Numeral briskly walked up to the door and twisted the average handle open.

Exposing another set of winding maze walls and halls. Died similar sets of grey from the walls to the ceiling. Causing both males to deadpan in response to seeing another labyrinth to dungeon dive.

And to top it all off there was now an onslaught of bullet fire waiting for them in the form of a firing squad those guys in armour. Their heavy-duty rifles pointed directly at the two with the safeties off.

"Fuck," They synced in a discomforted grimace.


Leaving the dynamic duo for the moment, we cut away to the owner of the massive complex and the target of the two's synchronous assassination attempt himself. He sat dawning a white variant of his classic black Assassin's Drip, the red highlights and other little details were left intact.

"They're so close!" Shay practically shouted with a shaky hand, surprising the older male next to him with the sudden outburst, "Is this the power of the Eight Alchemists? I must know how it feels to face that!"

Next to his friend and mentor, Shay couldn't help but smile under a mask of neutrality he'd made for himself. He wasn't panicked but impressed at how efficient his soon to be adversaries were up until that point. It took everything within his willpower to not start breaking out in laughter.

"Shay, I hope you know they won't be any sort of pushover, right?" Monro quickly chastised the younger man in his red enhanced blue cloak.

The way those two young men easily went through his elaborate maze as though they'd made it themselves was a phenomenon straight out of a well-made stealth segment of an action game. The way they were in near-perfect tune with each other's strengths and weaknesses was nothing short of sensational to bear witness to.

One zoned and sniped with his two handguns, exercising his perfect accuracy to make scrap metal out of the armour worn by the many guards. No matter if they were stationed in or near every chokepoint there or just out in the open on patrol. Around corners, through doors, and even through walls and ceilings, it was like he had aimbot wallhacks.

The other practically teleported close enough to use his blades to butter the poor saps put between him and his target. By either sheer movement speed or by throwing his weapon at the desired location, the man appeared where he needed to be without getting tracked by the many cameras for longer than a frame or two.

To the rather tall male at the Cormac's right hand, that scared him a little. The thought of him having to face either winded its way up his spine with an aura of fear. Meanwhile, their target himself could barely hide his hype.

"I know right!?" He almost yelled again with his mask breaking more and more by the second, "My muscles and memories are pulsing heavily just thinking about it!"

"Sometimes I forget just how immature you can truly be, Cormac..." Shaking his head in a mix of emotions, Monro would officially give up on his young student for the time being. He was simply too far gone right then.

"I'm surprised you don't forget more with those brittle bones of yours," Cormac shot from his still sitting position behind a large table.

"What in the hell is even that?!" George shouted with a groan.


Back to our two members of this finally named 'Eight Alchemists', we cut right back to where we had left off.

Surrounded by dozens of men, each armed with either a high-powered military rifle or glowing one-handed swords (that were totally not stolen from Halo). Everyone there looked as though they were waiting for any sudden movement. As if the slightest form of hostility would detonate the possibly hundreds of rounds eagerly waiting in their clips.

It wasn't looking good for a quarter of the Alchemists.

'24:1 huh?' Mentally noted IV., 'I like those odds.'

Eyes narrowing in silence, VI. darts his gaze throughout the crowd. He searched for any and all possible weaknesses within the flimsy at best semi-circle formation surrounding him in the unusually wide hallway before him.

"This was planned from the start?" IV. asked, or rather explained, "Cuz if so, you'll need more than a few licks and promises. Otherwise this bad box you've tried to set up's gonna end up being a hog killin' time! {Because if so, you'll need more than a few half-ass lackeys. Otherwise this bad situation you've tried to trap us with is gonna end up being a lot of fun for us.}"

"I can't do it, Darkie," a voice familiar to us by now spoke with the sound of a bottle being rhythmically hit with a spoon played.

"What'd he sayyy?" A confused armed guard questioned the western gibberish he'd just been unfortunate enough to have been subjected to.

"I am the ad-lib track," The same voice overlapped slightly.

"What you've just said is the most insanely idiotic thing I've ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this post is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no screen time, and may Lady White Heart have mercy on your soul." Droned another armed personnel, sounding as though his words were true. And he was just barely holding onto what little IQ he once could've claimed as his own.

"Yes, you can Darkie"

"Read the translation before I start airin' my lungs {Read before I start swearing like a sailor}," Starting to regret trying to give a warning to those before him, IV. decides to try communication again.

"That is my existence"

Like that worked the first time?

"Ohh..." The first faceless guard let out an exaggerated 'oh' of realization after scrolling up on the text log. With the second one following suit.

Yes, you can Darkie

"Yeah, we can't do that," Monotoned the second guy as the first nodded, "Boss's orders were to stop you from getting to him, so we'll just swarm you here instead of trying to remain at our posts since the guys downstairs paid dearly for sticking to orders to a tee."

I am the ad-lib's backing this-

"If you say so," After letting his ally speak for the past few lines of dialogue, VI. up and responds instead, refusing to catch an aneurysm from hearing another word from the gunslinger, "Guess we'll have to prove you wrong then!"

"One take!"

"!"

*KAPOOYA!*

Without warning, the ground below the centre of the crowd exploded in a cloud of sky blue, with none of the victims even knowing what was the cause outside of it being the one holding the swords. The attack had caused at least a dozen of the forty-eight members of the little dance party that's just kicked off to fly off their feet while sending a couple slightly off-balance with blurred vision.

'Those bastards!' internally cursed one of those who still had their balance, gripping his Scar-H as tightly as his trained hands allowed before gritting his teeth and taking aim and firing.

*BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The man let loose half his magazine without a second thought. The second his crosshairs got anywhere near the westerner's direction.

It was a smart idea to take out the support as quickly as possible while the others got jiggy with the sword dualist. Luckily, he wasn't the only one to think of that seeing as several streams of bullets began to rain upon the cowboy.

Too bad he wasn't a very good shot. And neither were his friends apparently.

*Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss!*

Or rather, the westerner just decided he wasn't feeling like getting hit by any of them. Instead, he easily manoeuvred himself out of the lines of fire. either ducking, tucking, rolling, sidestepping, dashing or even rotating on the spot a few times.

It mattered not how many shots were fired on the opposition, he just avoided them if they came too close. Somehow managing to fluidly flow like water around the trajectories of the lethal slugs of metal sent his way. Even his clothes snapped with him out of the way as he would take aim on his evasive I-frames with enough speed to leave after images upon moving.

On top of his bullshit levels of reaction time that allowed him to become damn near untouchable, the man was shooting back. As effortlessly as he'd avoided a shot that would've hit, he sent one back that always hit true. Taking out around two or three with every evasive manoeuvre pulled off within the same breath.

Some shots he took with his back turned, still nailing his shots without even needing to look.

*Intervention!*

+420

HEADSHOT!

*Miss! Miss! Miss!*

*Intervention!*

Double Kill!

"OOoohhhh!"

Sounds of shots going off, Modern Warfare points being awarded and classic memes filled the air alongside the heavy thuds of dense armour after the users' unfortunate forced soul evictions. Then the lone gunman suddenly dipped into one of his pockets, fishing out a different revolver. One longer than the two previously shown in his possession throughout the assassination run.

"The bigger they are," IV. began, slowing his aiming process to line up a particularly difficult to land shot. Readying his newly revealed big iron with a hidden smile. 'Like shooting fish in a barrel!' He noted with a chuckle before pulling the trigger several times.

*Miss! Miss!*

After having to dodge an almost deadly shot. That would've added a third eye hole right on his forehead.

*Intervention! Intervention!*

Triple Kill, overkill!

"Oh, baby a triple!"

"Mom get the camera!"

With each shot, three different goons were hit. The first two of each bullet's pathways got knocked down from the concussive force of the actual metal that rang their skulls instead of the ice previously used. The others were only slightly dazed for a second yet continued to fire.

"The harder they fall!" He taunted upon squeezing the weapon in his hands. Though his words were drowned out severely by the battle at hand, as well as the rapper currently going off about having a backwood and being in the back where he does what he wants. It didn't fail to annoy a few who barely made out what was said enough to try and send their ire his way.

*Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss!*

Yeah, no. Even if their focus fire efforts tightened their bullet spread and bettered their recoil control considerably, it still did nothing in the grand scheme of things.

*Intervention! Intervention!*

"Wombo combo!"

Killtacular, killtrocity!

At the rate he was going, IV. was well on his way to achieving a nuke seeing as he was practically untouchable and unpredictably picking off those before him. Even going as far as sniping a few of the melee units that got a little too close for comfort on VI.'s six.

*Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss! Miss!*

*Intervention! Intervention! Intervention! Intervention!*

"That's right get no-scoped!"

Killmanjaro, killtastrophe, killpocalypse!

'Aren't those revolvers?! One of the few who didn't get instantly picked off mentally noted before joining his friends back at the lobby like the bozo he was. Not before whiffing his military-grade rifle shots.

*Miss!*

*Intervention! Intervention! Intervention! Intervention!*

Killionare! Running riot! Rampage! Overkill!

*Miss!*

*Intervention!*

And like that, the gunners (and a few unlucky swordmen) were now laying on the ground unmoving. Courtesy of the lone Wanderer who stood scratch-free before a wall riddled with more bullet holes (and probably more salt too) than a post TDM CoD map. All while One take blasted borderline louder than the shots that rattled the area in its ultra bass boosted glory.

Now what's left to do for the gunslinger was to wait on his partner to finish.

[Some seconds earlier]

VI. was standing next to his brother in arms. Slowly, he was planting a trap under his enemies' feet as they blabbered on with IV. 'Just a few seconds is all I'd need,' He told himself, 'Then the fireworks can begin. Since the option of stealth is no longer that way.'

During the little exchange, the goons and IV. were having, the trap had been set. A small blue orb was forming itself between two unlucky victims, looking dangerously similar to a plasma grenade from Halo.

THE MATCH BEGINS IN

3

2

1

0

"SHUT UP CLOCK IN AND LOAD UP"

Until it went off in a massive bang that flung the two above it flying. One that easily knocked out those two within its nearest radius like a bouncing betty. Which filled their unsuspecting bodies with voltages even power lines have wet dreams about attaining in an electric blue lights show.

And VI. didn't waste a plank time in following up his distraction with attacks. Closing the gap while those affected dealt with the explosion.

"Get shrekt m8s," He chuckled as he looked at the two guards that were flung in the air.

"Arrgh!" A few of those caught within the electrical field would shout in agony from being hit through their metal armour.

"My leg!" Screamed another.

Unfortunately, the other ten swordsmen would shrug off the opening attack with minimal damage taken. Aside from some blurred vision, they were doing considerably better than their gunner counterparts. A result of different pieces of training no doubt.\

Upon arriving at his destination, the dead centre of the now disorganised group, VI, began his unrelenting attack patterns.

*SCHWING!*

A simple downward swipe with one of his blades. While not the most powerful or flashy of moves, it was a start and a great way to measure an opponent's speed and strength.

*SHING!*

Which wasn't too bad. The first target of the melee-fest had enough of both to catch the attacker's blade with an upwards counter swipe of his own. Followed up by a swift kick to the gut.

Dragonball heavy. MP3

Hitmaker

Unexpectedly, the man's foot landed without much issue and sent the Eight Alchemist member skidding back.

"Heh."

Or rather, the guard's heel tried sending the tall man back. Only to get stonewalled and his foot ceased all movements on contact.

*GRAB*

Hitmaker

"Gotcha bitch!"

"Huh?" A confused armour-clad male questioned shortly after getting his foot gripped by a reddened glove.

"Ur m9," was all VI. said before filling the soldier with currents well over the 'deadly' range by direct contact, "Taze" He'd say before the shock set in.

"HBRBTTHLYERER!" The sap spazzed as he was jolted out of consciousness.

*SLAM!*

Hitmaker

Grenade explosion. MP3

D(ismal!)

To add insult to injury, the near-comatose man was then slammed to the ground behind his attacker hard enough to create an electrified shockwave that'd push his allies back considerably and off their feet.

There went at least three from the fight, five if the two that refused to get up during the initial explosion were to be counted courtesy the gunman a couple dozen feet behind VI.

Feeling a bit generous, the blue-eyed individual decided to give his enemies a breather, despite having the upper hand and W in the bag as is. He was feking generous enough to give the remaining seven the crucial second it had taken for them all to get back up on their feet.

Instead of starting up another trap card or other form of attack, the man bided his time by putting away his blackened blade. Choosing to pick up one of the perfectly working swords provided to him via the floor and start getting accustomed to the new weapon.

*TINK!*

"Nope!'

Before he could even begin appraising the newly acquired item, however, one of the survivors had recovered enough to make a move. One that was slapped away with how violently his silver blade went flying back. Leaving him wide open.

Smash bat. MP3

"Gah!" The faceless enemy gasped in pain as his screen time expired with a glorious kick to the sternum. He was flung into a wall moments after.

C(razy!)

'Six down,' Ironic.

With a hasty spin around, the menace continued his almost flawless combo. MArking the two directly before him and the two that stood at each of his sides. He would switch targets over to one of those at his left first. Breaking position upon locking eyes with the guard's helmet.

Smiling under his veil of darkness as he closed the few inches of distance with a wound back elbow.

*Crk!*

"Grt!" was the last and only sound emitted from VI.'s target before he was dispatched.

With a swift palm strike, the guy's nose was no more. His face mask was dented in and folded like cardboard and the sound of tin foil getting crunched together could've been heard over even the current levels of dankness.

Then the male turned around to face his next adversary: Another faceless warrior rushing in to see if he could land a cheap shot on the intruder whilst he was busy.

*tzieww!*

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'Thanks, Hatake," That was not going to happen, however, not if VI. had anything to say about it.

"Chidori!"

Hitmaker

Instead of getting the drop on the hooded figure, he was stabbed by an electrically charged hand as the lightning user acknowledged the original creator of the technique currently being used to stab his victim in the shoulder.

"TCH!" was all he got out before shock took him out of the fight. Causing his body to go limp while his attacker's hand was still embedded into his shoulder.

"Raahh!" Fed up with their numbers dwindling by the meme, the last two tried a synchronous attack. Aided by a hearty battle cry, a low kick on the left and a midsectional punch from the right were sent by the two guards.

Instant transmission. MP3

Too bad it did nothing as VI. just teleported out of the way and off screen.

"Wha-" But even with their dual flanking and added anger buff, on top of their shouting buff, they weren't powerful enough. Not nearly enough to even tag the man before he disappeared.

Instead, their limbs harmlessly hit the cloud of ionized oxygen left behind. Triggering a leftover present for them being the last men standing.

*BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!*

"What the fu-"

Grenade explosion. MP3

In the form of a bomb of course. Two Halo Plasma bombs that went off at the same time left under each patron's metaphorical Christmas trees.

Meanwhile, VI. had reappeared directly next to IV. in a completely different setting and a black bladed weapon in hand. Leaving back the piles of barely breathing grunts in a once white and pristine room. Now razed with charred spots of black, surrounded by either tiny blue sparks dwindling and dancing or bullet holes littered around the walls and flooring in their wakes.

"Thanks," He nearly grunted as he put away his sword in his trench coat hoodie,"Do you think Cormac heard that?"

"Can a rattler kill yah in a day?" IV. all but snapped with a suddenly itchy trigger finger and low key tick mark on his hidden forehead.

"Meh, at least that's all of 'em," VI. would shrug.

"Yeah, let's go."


Alright! I'm done.

Rebirth Heart that was something.

Don't really know what to expect from y'all this time, since there was this sudden shift in narrative, but expect it to come back in the next chapters.

Basically, if there's a fight, there's gonna be chaos.

And before you wonder about the disappearance of One take for VI.'s end, it was because he didn't hear it. Or rather didn't listen.

Anyways, that's all for now. Review, fave, blah blah, yuh done here so I don't really care.

Caio~