I know that the last chapter was a bit shorter, but I had to stay on schedule. Don't worry, this one is going to be where things get interesting. Enjoy!
"So I've heard you got a bone to pick with Abstergo," I said to the man, setting my glass back down on the table.
"Yeah man," Franklin replied, "People around here are trying to make an honest dollar and those suit-wearing motherfuckers just keep getting in the way."
Very few people were around in the bar, but we were quiet all the same. In these parts of L.A, you had to be careful, or so Franklin told me.
"So what's your deal with 'em?" he asked.
"Well for my... superiors it's just business, but it's personal for me."
"Oh they ripped you off too? Or are you a cop?"
"Not a cop no," I assured him.
"How do I know you ain't bullshitting?"
"Well I'm not a racist," I pointed out.
"True," Franklin agreed, "So listen, we got a deal going on and those rich assholes will probably be there to creep on us, you could take a whole lotta them out, and make a few bucks."
"I'm not interested in money. Just taking those fucks out."
"Shit they pissed you off for real didn't they?"
"They kidnapped my family," I said darkly.
"Shit," Franklin replied soberly, "That's rough man."
"Anyway," I said, "You guys go on with the deal, and we'll back you up when Abstergo crashes the party. You guys split, and we'll handle the rest."
"What about my money?" Franklin questioned.
"Perhaps this will ease you a bit." I took out a stack of hundred dollar bills and set in on the table.
"Yeah that'll do." Franklin pocketed the money.
"Alright," I said, standing, "See you tomorrow morning."
"Crack of dawn, white boy."
I didn't enjoy working with gangbangers, and neither did the rest of the team, but these guys hated Abstergo, so they were useful.
The next morning, the five of us drove down in the van to a place Franklin had called "The Grove". Run-down houses lined the street, and two cars sat at the end, one green, one purple.
"We seriously doing this?" I asked nervously, sitting in the passenger seat.
"We gotta," Ethan replied as we pulled up, "Besides, this guy's a good kid, just unlucky."
I hoped he was right.
"You buys ready?" Franklin asked as we exited the van. All the houses on the street were small and unkempt, and the men standing by the car, all of them black, wore jean shorts, t-shirts (some purple, some black) and a few wore hooded jumpers.
"As ready as we'll ever be," Ethan replied.
"So Franklin, you got the shit?" asked one of the gangsters dressed in purple.
"Yeah right here man," Franklin help up the package, covered in brown paper and taped shut. The gangster took it and weighed it in his hand.
"Seems legit," he called to his buddies by the car, and handed Franklin an envelope. Looking inside, I saw a large amount of $100 dollar bills.
"Alright," said Franklin, "This never happened, you got it?"
Before the man could reply, everyone noticed the loud sound of helicopter blades. When I looked up, I saw the Abstergo logo printed on the underbelly of the black chopper.
"Shit! Feds!" one of the gangsters yelled.
Everyone ran for cover just as the helicopter opened fire on the group. A missile hit both cars, engulfing them in a fireball. Bullets kicked up stones that hit the back of my heels as I dived over a fence, ran through somebody's front yard, and ran around the side of the house. The helicopter continued to fire at surrounding houses, causing smoke to rise through the destroyed roofs.
I ran around the back of the house and found the rest of the Assassin's team hiding next door.
"Ryan," Ethan said, "We need the RPG or that helicopter will tear us to shreds!"
I sprinted out of the house and to the back doors of the van. From somewhere, the surviving gang members were firing their AK-47s at the chopper.
I unloaded the RPG and hoisted it onto my shoulder. It was an older model, so I'd have to time my shot just right. The chopper sprayed fire over the street, and bullets hit the van just as I fired.
The rocket went flying towards the helicopter, hitting the tail just as it turned.
The back of the aircraft exploded, sending pieces everywhere. The burning chopper crashed in the middle of the street, with parts flying off and the blades breaking off as they hit the road.
The helicopter itself didn't explode though, and the injured pilot struggled to unstrap himself. As he managed to free himself, I ran at him and pinned him against the crashed aircraft.
"How did you know we would be here?!" I demanded, ejecting my blade and holding it to his face.
"I.. I..." he stuttered. I moved the blade closer so that it touched, but did not pierce, the skin.
"Start talking," Ethan said as the group joined me.
"We never knew his full name," the pilot said very quickly, "We were only told that his name was Grove."
An alarm bell went off in my head. This could NOT be a coincidence.
"Why does he want us dead?" I questioned him.
"I don't know!" the pilot snapped, "He only said that you lot were a threat."
Without taking my eyes off him, I said to Dave "Get me some duct tape. We're bringing this guy in."
The pilot grinned nastily.
"Will you now?" he said, "Because if you want your sister Julie to survive the d-"
The man went from taunting me to screaming in pain. I'd bent his middle finger back.
"Oh God!" he yelled in agony, "Please no more!"
"Then. Start. Talking."
"Your family is being held in a Templar Facility in San Diego," he said, "They're being moved in two days by truck to Los Angeles."
I released him, and he slid to the pavement.
"Tell your master this: if any harm comes to anyone in my family, then I'll make sure it's the last thing he ever does," I told him, "Do you understand?"
The pilot nodded fearfully. I began to turn away, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man pull a gun and take aim.
Before I could eject my blade and take his life, a gunshot rang out and blood was pouring out of the man's head.
Franklin lowered the gun and said "Nobody fucks with my homies."
A few ours later, the Assassin team was back at the compound outside the city.
"My family is being moved from San Diego by truck in two days," I told Jones, "They'll be moved at midnight, and they won't be guarded."
Jones thought for a moment.
"How can we be sure he was telling the truth?" he finally said, "It could be a ruse."
"Sir," Ethan interrupted, "It's a risk we have to take. We have no idea what the Animus project is, and if Williamson is indeed being moved, then he could give us information into what Abstergo's doing."
"I agree," Angela added, "This is the big break we've been waiting for. This is an opportunity we can't pass up."
Jones nodded.
"Very well. I'll send a second team to assist you in the mission. You can plan with them how you'll go about this."
We spent the next day planning the extraction with another Assassin team. the second team would engage the Templars in a firefight, hopefully taking them out while we freed the prisoners. Angela was very determined for this to go well, as there was a chance that her brother and sister were being transported.
The night of the mission came, and I was excited, nervous and dreading the events to come. What if they weren't there? What if they were dead? How would they react to seeing the child who ran away?
We left Venice Beach at 8:00 PM and posted ourselves next to the highway where we'd intercept the Templars.
"Alright guys," I said to my team. The others were waiting on either side of the road to engage the truck, "When we hear the shots, we go in quietly and get any prisoners out. No shooting unless something goes wrong. Got it?"
Everyone nodded.
"Guys, look!" Angela whispered.
The truck was here, the Abstergo logo barely visible on it's side. And right on schedule, the Assassins opened fire, taking out the tires and sending the truck spinning. It came to a stop and the driver and passenger jumped out and returned fire briefly before dropping dead from the bullets. At the same time, we ran down the hill to the truck.
The other Assassin's moved in as we tried to open the back doors of the truck. Nodding to Angela, we fired our handguns at the locks, and they opened slightly. Pulling them open and activating our flashlights, we peered inside.
Around a dozen people in grey outfits, looking tired and weary, stared back at us. Among them, were the people I'd come for.
"Ryan?" my father asked, stepping forward. Behind him was my mother, sister and brothers.
"Angela?" someone else said, and two people ran forward and embraced her.
My father looked at me.
"You... you found us."
I said nothing, but ran and embraced the family I had longed to see for four years.