Michael took a deep breath as he looked over the railing of the Liberty, and looked at the burning port of Singapore, "Did we really have to set the entire port on fire?" he asked Mary as he turned to her, "I mean seriously, whatever happened to 'stick to the shadows?"

"That was before they tried to strip me," She answered as she turned her back to the port, and sat on the railing, "Didn't even know I was a woman, just wanted to strip me. What type of wackjobs do that?"

"The really horny type," he said, letting a bit of slang from his time period slip out, "Probably a few too many manly bunkmates, they wanted to be on top for once."

"You do have a strange tongue, Michael," she replied as she looked into the night sky, "We should be close to Japan now, and it only took us a few months. You still haven't told me your plan for getting in."

"I know, I'll tell you when the time is right," he told her as he pulled out a sextant and looked at the stars, "Luckily the winds have been good, for us, except for that instance on the tip of India. That was a rather close call." Michael put the sextant back on his belt, and closed his eyes. He started focusing on the sounds around him, "I hate long missions..."

"Why?" Mary asked as she tilted her head, "With your personality, I would have thought you enjoy them."

"It's not the enjoying them part, its the not having relations part I hate," Michael said as he shrugged his shoulders, "I was raised to prioritize the mission, and not have any distractions, but sometimes it is distracting when I walk into a town, and there are women I could easily take."

"Sometimes I think you forget I'm a woman," she walked in front of Michael and crossed her arms, "because it feels like you talk to me as if I'm a man."

"I treat men and women equally," Michael patted her shoulder, "mostly because I've known good men and women, and when they die, they all bleed the same blood. They all die the same way, that being said, I hate it when people die. At least when they aren't Templars."

"Our brothers and sisters didn't die because of you," Mary said referring to the fight back on the island before their journey to Japan started, "You can't blame yourself, if it wasn't for you, many others would have died."

"I know, but that's not what happened," Michael replied as he pushed Mary's hand away, "What happened was that I couldn't save everyone."

"Jaysus, do you have a fuckin' god complex?" Mary asked as she pushed Michael against the railing and held him there by the collar of his hooded shirt, "It's been months now, and you are fixated on not being able to save everyone," tears were starting to well up in her eyes as she held him there, "You didn't even know any of the people who died. I did, so I should be the one mad at you for letting them die! Not you, so stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"But I did know them," Michael said as he held his hand against his heart, "No matter how little time passes between the first meeting, an assassin will always be a brother to another assassin," he grabbed Mary's wrists and and pulled her hands away from his collar, "There is an intimacy between assassins that only we, the Assassins will ever know, it is stronger than the soldier's bond to his comrade, deeper than a mother's love for her son, or a politician's lust for power. It is hidden in our creed-"

"Everything is permitted, nothing is permitted," they said in unison.

Michael let go of Mary's wrists and pulled his hood down, "Our Creed is our lifeblood, it is what we defend, but in defending our creed, we also surrender to our hearts, and our hearts surrender themselves to the order. Love, hate, jealousy, and even grief. They are feelings we all share with each other, no matter the distance."

"Do you have to make everything a damn poem?" She asked after Michael had finished, then she punched him on the shoulder, "You'll make a good mentor someday, I guarantee it."

"Maybe, but my mentor's said I was too reckless, risked too much to get the mission done, just like the times before Altair."

Mary chuckled loudly, "No doubt, they were the same way, I reckon," she turned around and started walking towards my cabin, "You get to sleep with the crew tonight," she said as she opened my door and closed it.

"It's my bed, I can sleep in it even if you are on it," Michael said to himself in a mumbling volume as he sighed. He pulled a rope with a hook on it off of his belt and started swinging it around as he looked into the night sky. The tool itself was a grappling hook, one he was quite skilled with, though for the most part he used as a weapon rather than a way to get up high faster, "Need to figure out how to make a grappling gun, like the ones Batman uses," he put the hook back on his belt and started climbing up to the crows nest, a place he's made his home since Mary takes his bed every night. As he was climbing, he started thinking about how he could keep his crew alive. He had been lucky so far, since they had been playing the part of trade guard whenever they needed to get some more supplies, and thanks to the improvements made to the pistols, turning them into, what is effectively, the first break-action sidearm, and a few rifled break-action long guns, no one was killed in the one battle they actually had with pirates expecting an easy haul. Michael began to lose track of time as they sailed into the Philippine seas, and closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath, "I hope there aren't any typhoons on this trip," he said just as he felt a raindrop fall on his forehead, he opened his eyes, "I really hope that isn't god looking down at me, and saying, 'Fuck you!"


1 month later, Somewhere off the coast of Osaka.

A storm was raging overhead of the Liberty as Michael held onto the railing of the his frigate, as the winds threatened to lift him off of his ship, "Fuck this shit!" He shouted as he looked around. His men were each doing something similar, holding onto the railings, canons, even the mast if they could, "We won't get anywhere like this." Michael took the grappling hook off of his belt and tied it around his waist. Then he crawled towards the center mast was. He got low to the ground and gripped onto the wooden deck as much as possible so he didn't end up flying off when a strong gust of wind passed over the ship.

Michael grabbed onto the mast and dropped the hook part of the grapple into the main hatch, and reached down to pull it back up and tie it around, securing him to the deck, "Grab some ropes, and tie yourself to the mast! We need to get out of this storm before we end up in the sea!"

The men, who still were gripping onto the mast shouted, "Aye!" even though it could barely be heard, and took the spare ropes that were tied to the mast. There were just enough for everyone tied to the mast, and it would allow them to walk around the ship with less risk of being blown into the ocean.

Now that Michael thought about it, he realized that there wasn't a decreased risk, the ropes just meant they could pull themselves back on, which wouldn't help if the ropes were to break, "Not going to share that information," Michael said to himself as he looked up and realized someone was in the crow's nest still, "Shit, I need to get him down from there." Michael ran to the ratlines and started climbing them. As he got to the middle of the ship, he felt one of the ropes come loose and the ratlines began to flail a little, "Shit, this isn't good..." He took a deep breath as he started climbing slower, and more steadily to the top.

"The main sail is coming loose!" He heard someone shout just as white canvas entered the corner of his eyes. Michael lost his grip on the ratlines and reached out for anything as he began his descent. Luckily, he was able to grab a handful of the sail and hold onto it tightly. Michael reached his other hand out and started climbing up the sail as it flung wildly in the wind. He was able to reach the second yard of the main mast. He looked up and saw that the crow's nest was only a little bit above him now. Michael thought that he might be able to climb straight up the mast, to get there, and started moving towards the center of the yard he was on.

Upon reaching the mast, he jumped up, and grabbed onto a handhold. It was very slippery, and he could feel that he was losing slack in the grappling hook's line, so he could barely reach the crow's nest with it, "Too risky to take it off," he said as he climbed up to the top yard where the crow's nest was placed on, "What are you still doing here?" He shouted at the man cowering in the bucket, "It's dangerous up here, what if the mast splits or-" Just as he was about to finish his sentence, lightning struck from the sky, and hit the mast just under the crow's nest, "Shit..." Michael gasped as he felt the crow's nest begin to tip.

Michael grabbed onto the sailor, and held onto the edge of the crow's nest, "This isn't going to be good," he said as he watched the water get closer. Michael suddenly felt a strong tug around his waist, and his entire body stopped. The rope for the grappling hook wrapped around the center yard, and kept him from falling all the way down. Although, it knocked the wind out of him, causing him to let go of his crew member. He watched, breathless as his the crow's nest fell into the water, with the man still inside of it. He reached out in futility, and gritted his teeth. Michael was close enough to the ground that cutting the rope wouldn't seriously damage him, so he flicked his wrist, and swung his arm around, cutting the rope with the hidden blade. He fell to the deck and tried to stand up, "Damn it!" he shouted as the air came back to his lungs, and ran to the railing. He looked out to sea to see if he could spot his man, but it proved futile. The man was lost to the waves, and nothing could have saved him now, "Damn it!"

As if to spite Michael, the rain started easing up and the winds lessened, and it was only a few more minutes before the storm was completely gone. Michael hit the railing of the Liberty multiple times as his crew started to assess the amount of damage the typhoon did to his ship. Only a few others had seen what had happened, and they all knew just how close it was that they could have all ended up like the poor crewman who was swept away into the deep abyss of the oceans.