Secrets in History.
By Kaimaler
Alright, I guess I should explain myself after publishing an ACII story a little while ago. I'm replacing it, I didn't want to continue to work with it as it didn't catch the eye of many readers.
So instead I'm publishing a story about another person without any ties to the Templar/Assassin war at all. :)
I'm gonna' mess with readers minds for a little bit now, thanks for reading, I hope this gets your attention! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Er, No, I do not own Assassin's Creed I or II or even Brotherhood (which I haven't played yet D: ) but I do own Vanessa Ryder, Daniel, and the currently unnamed pet canine.
Maybe this was another day on the force; certainly didn't feel like it. Those drug dealers would get away if she didn't get back up.
Clad in a dark blue uniform, she stood back up. She wasn't injured, thankfully this outcome was a possibility predicted before she left the precinct downtown. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell; kevlar saves you from a bullet, it just makes sure you know it saved you by not stopping all the force of the bullet or three.
Tonight, she was going to go home, take off her shirt and find three massive rainbow colored bruise where she had been shot. She supposed that tonight she'd be beyond thrilled she wore kevlar, but right now she hated just about everything in existence.
She heard barking, the startling cry of an unfortunate drug dealer as he was pounced on by a German Shepard; the dog stopped one of the fleeing criminals, but the other left his friend behind to deal with this angry hound.
Correction, she hated everything except her dog.
Quickly getting her senses back, she could do no more then walk hurriedly to the dog. When she saw a magnum pistol lying in front of her she knew instantly that her dog had ensured his own safety by tearing up the arm that would've killed him.
When she saw the criminal trying to push the dog off, she had to laugh. He was on his back, her dog biting and nipping at the man while he could do no more then fend off the ones to his face.
With a sharp whistle, the dog was off of him panting happily by her side. "Hands where I can see them."
The man sat up, looking for his own weapon before seeing it under her foot, a quiet curse said he knew he was done for.
As she ordered, he put his hands up; without taking her aim off the criminal, she walked to his back, took his hands and slapped cuffs around his wrists. "Remain silent, anything you do or say can be used against you in a court of law."
The man stood, cursing all the while, and she him straight out of the alley.
As soon as she reached her car she shoved the man inside the back and took her seat as the driver. Her radio was buzzing; she had to report the incident to her partner back at the precinct before she arrived.
"This is 158, Vanessa Ryder; I have a suspect in my possession." Her partner was on the other end, probably growling in agitation. "Shots fired again, Ness?" She grinned, the man in the back glaring daggers into the back of her head. "How could you tell?" She chuckled as she heard him groan.
"Alright, only one guy this time?"
She frowned playfully, "You almost sound disappointed." She could hear paper turning, "Just get back here." She laughed into the radio, her partner was somewhat stingy, but she loved working with him for that.
Off Duty. She'd never thought she'd be so excited about two simple words; but there they were absolute gold in her eyes.
Cops weren't allowed to take their uniform back, so she wasn't going to; but that required going all the way back downtown into that dingy precinct in order to drop off a pair of clothes.
That's about the same principle as putting all your delicates in a wash together then taking a common, old polyester shirt to the dry cleaners.
She had already been down there twice today, once to return the scumbag from earlier, and a second time to write a report on an incident she witnessed with another cop.
Instead, she decided she was going to head to the library near the precinct before turning in her uniform for the night, so she could lie to herself she was actually all the way downtown to borrow a book.
Procrastination was the best when nothing was stopping her. Her partner joined in with her a few times after a long day, but usually he'd head back sooner then she would've liked.
She was scanning through the history books. A few years ago she saw some fantastic photos from Europe as she was trying to decide if she was to go on a long vacation, where she would go. It wasn't until a friend returned from a trip to Europe and showed her pictures from Spain that Vanessa instantly knew where to go. Spain, the only place she ever got so excited about in her life.
Her friend was kind enough to copy some and give them to Vanessa; she wanted to compare the image to real life. She knew it wouldn't do the old buildings justice, but she wanted to do it.
Vanessa even kept some of her friends' photos of famous buildings around Europe. One included a massive vineyard in Italy, another of her friend pointing at the Coliseum behind her, and a few more taken in France, and Germany.
It would be a dream come true to walk the streets, experience Spain like a traveler should. She wanted to see old, crumbling buildings that had been there for a hundred years; she wanted to know its history better then Spain itself did.
She felt a tad overwhelmed when she began learning how to speak Spanish. By no means was she ever talented in speech, not even in English could she bend words to her will.
Usually, her thoughts came out like a waterfall, she just didn't know how to string words together good enough.
Trying to learn a new language was a challenge.
For now, she felt satisfied translating the written language. It was a test too though, she studied how to read and write Spanish, but she hasn't perfected it yet in two years.
That felt rather self-defeating.
Exploring the book self, a certain one caught her eye. As she pulled it out she could feel the old leather, she examined the cover, its title was in Spanish even. Flipping through the pages, she found that barely even a word of it was English, a part or to speaking about the British, but nothing else; this wasn't supposed to be here, she figured, it most likely belonged in the Spanish books sections but was stored here on accident.
Now, she had a tight grip on the old leather hide of the book. A name on the fly page; it said Borgia.
Vanessa blinked, she knew that name, it was the name of a Spanish pope. She was overjoyed she remembered that, she didn't know any names of other popes, just his.
They weren't welcomed by the Italians; no one wanted a foreign pope. She smirked, silly history, how prejudice they all were.
Taking the book under her arm she walked purposefully to the front desk and purchased her new translation challenge for the evening. She was grateful she decided to procrastinate; this book was old and no doubt had a lot of history in it.
She left to the precinct, hopeful to begin her study on this lovely little leather book she discovered. Her dog sniffed away at the new object in the car until deciding it was not a treat for him and ignored it.
Traffic wasn't bad, luckily, this late at night the only people working was the McDonalds down the street, it's competitor Burger King, the precinct itself, and maybe a few night owls driving around for one reason or another.
After arriving at the precinct she was immediately met by her partner, "Daniel, shouldn't you be home already?" She whistled her dog out of the car before closing the door behind him.
"I would've been if you weren't too busy skipping off to who knows where." Oh boy, Vanessa giggled. "Sorry, I got caught up." He followed her back inside with her dog joyfully sniffing the area behind them.
"You mean too busy buying books?" He slipped the leather book from under her arm. "Hey!" She cried, spinning around to try and catch it. "What is this? Another book you can't read?"
Damn his tallness, She huffed as he lifted the book above his head to try and read it, Vanessa attempting to climb the thief to get it back from him. "It's in Spanish, I'm going to decode it and read it."
"Still on about learning Spanish, Ness?" He sighed, happily tossing into her waiting hands. "It's been forever since you started learning, I think you just need a tutor."
"Thanks for the input, now if you don't mind-" Vanessa opened the door to the women's locker room, "-I have to change. Bye bye, Daniel, see you tomorrow." She waved while he laughed his way mockingly out of the building.
Daniel was a good friend, she didn't admit it, but they were instant friends when she was transferred to this department. It was fun to be around him, but he loved to tease her, act bossy and demanding all the while buying her books she wanted once or twice.
Enough of that jerk, Vanessa cackled, It is time for my book.
At her locker, her dog took a comfortable seat on the sitting area directly across from her while she unbuttoned her shirt. She flipped open the book to decipher its opening pages from her limited knowledge of the Spanish written language.
The first few bits were easy, but if a little shocking to uncover. It wasn't a normal book per say. It was a journal, an old, worn down journal from the...
Vanessa stared at the pages, it was impossible, the library would've known, checked the date even then the authenticity. Maybe it wasn't authentic? Possible, but it's torn, stained, nearly destroyed pages told Vanessa's mind otherwise.
Fifteenth-century Spain. If it was real, she was going to find herself a display case with an alarm system attached to it.
Reading a few intelligible sentences, Vanessa caught sight of a few sketching inside. Some to weatherworn to actually see, but near the middle of the small journal was a clear etched in picture.
In coal, there was a circle with designs patterning it, but symbols abounded, ones she hadn't a clue where they were from.
The moment she tried to read through that page, Spanish became her native tongue, Vanessa was stunned at how fast she was reading through the page; she felt as if she had been reading Spanish for decades, the words instantly became her own, she found herself speaking in a language she previously struggled with.
Even her dog was cautious of this development, so much so as to come sniffing the book.
She forgot when she began reading about 'The Apple' or what it even was, but she became another person entirely. She could see in her minds eye an older man sitting at a desk writing this very page.
A determination was the only thing keeping her going, if this book helped her read Spanish so well, she wanted to finish it here and now, no matter how long it took.
Certain names she found had been repeated to the point of paranoia; Altair, was one and the foremost, the writings kept rounding back to focus on something this man did hundreds of years ago; his organization that was important to the author. Another was Giovanni, a much more familiar name, but when the pages went on about his attempt to assassinate the author of the said journal, Vanessa became more and more suspicious of this character.
Many other names appeared, though none as targeted as them; save for one. The descendant of this Giovanni, at first the name was lost with another, Fredrico, until finally the author wrote the name down boldly; where no one could mistake the strong feeling he had for this son of an assassin. Ezio Auditore.
Then, after following this odd family tree, she arrived back again at the picture with the circle that had patterns across it. The symbols moved on the page, transforming into a sentence along the page.
"The Prophet will appear when the second piece is brought to the floating city. Only the Prophet may enter the Vault."
Then, she saw nothing but a white light, so bright it blinded her completely, she heard nothing, saw nothing, and couldn't feel the locker room bench under her anymore.
It was pure weightlessness, like she was removed from the laws of gravity completely.
She awoke to noise. When did I pass out? She rubbed her eyes, she was lying down, it wasn't particularly comfortable, but it had a certain familiar hardness to it. Did Daniel come get me?
Then, she felt a cold nose press against her forehead and travel to her nose before receiving a wet kiss from a long tongue. Scrunching her nose, she pushed herself up. Dog slobber, not the best thing to wake up to.
Using her sleeve to clean her face up, Vanessa thought she heard the distinct sound of a horse neighing, people talking, and bells ringing in the distance.
Her dog whined beside her, concerned over her wellbeing. Smiling and petting the hounds head in thanks, she earned a happy bark and the sound of a waging tail thumping against the ground.
She smelled... dirt. Sure enough, she looked behind her and a chestnut horse sighed in her direction. Vanessa stared at the horse for a little while, sure she had ridden a horse before, the precinct she was in beforehand had mounted police and she got a chance to be one before she moved south to Atlanta.
But there it was, a large, mature, chestnut muzzle shaking steadily as she stared at the beast.
"What the fu-" She heard a man gasp and accuse her; "What a disgrace!" He reeled back, "A woman wearing trousers? And shirtless?" She growled to herself, this man was obviously some kind of sexist, no man would have the gall to question a woman's clothing, especially one in a police uniform.
Well, he is right about the shirtless thing...Vanessa looked at her white, now dusty tank top. She was in the middle of hanging up her uniform when she, Vanessa furrowed her brows, fell asleep? Or was knocked out? Someone had to have taken her here, dragged, carried, drugged or otherwise.
She wasn't in the precinct.
It was becoming more and more apparent that the area she was dropped in was no where near Atlanta, she'd been everywhere; Metro Atlanta, country side, Savannah, all the way up to New York City and not a single place looked like this.
No pavement to be spoken of, horses attached to carriages, stone buildings, and... the men wore tights. If this situation wasn't so dire, Vanessa would've laughed at them all for wearing such ridiculous styles, but there were the Amish, they didn't accept technology as their religion wasn't too keen on the idea.
Perhaps she was dumped in an Amish village.
Then again, the people would've been so much more understanding of her attire. Amish may not allow technology into their society, which Vanessa had agreed with on some extents such as a gun, but they weren't unaware of the world around them.
These people were completely ignorant and when she stood up, they acted like she was a witch about to cast a spell on them; all jumping back away from her while she brushed off her pants and tank top.
"Uh, hi." She waved nervously, coming off more like a foreigner then her choice in clothing suggested. "I wouldn't suppose anyone could tell me where I, ah, am exactly?"
The small crowd looked between each other as friends would, each one seeming to silently debate if they should answer the pants-wearing foreigner or dismiss her as insane and walk away slowly.
Apparently, there was another option Vanessa wasn't aware of...
"You there!" A demanding voice split through the mumblings of the crowd, just as the owner of the voice parted them all. "Go home woman and dress accordingly; I will not have an indecent woman in my city!"
Vanessa huffed, "Love to pal, but I'm still trying to figure out where here is." Her dog barked his agreement beside her, then resumed panting gleefully.
The guardsmen shared glances, "Do not toy with me woman, we will escort you home since you will not go willingly."
They came forward, two on either side and one leading them out of the growing spectators. Vanessa sighed; her dog at her back acting as a trained police dog should; calmly following behind their owner who's being dragged away by the local law enforcement, the very profession she was paid for.
For the first time in her life, she couldn't stand the police.
Though her mind told her to concentrate on explaining to them she wasn't from this strange city, she couldn't help but take in the sights around her.
This clearly wasn't anywhere on the East Coast; she wasn't convinced she was still on American soil now that she got a good look around a street rather then the dirty alley she awoke in.
The city wasn't large by her standards, she lived in New York City; this town was the size of a stone age village compared to any city she'd lived in. This was including her new home in Atlanta, but somehow, this city was cleaner with all its dirty streets and old stone buildings.
There was no loud highways, no cars in sight, and not one singe of air pollution like the major cities.
Quickly, she realized this city wasn't affected by the outside world, not one bit of the technological era had etched its way into this place.
It wasn't until she saw a main square did she know exactly where she was.
She stopped, the guards halting and trying to get her attention, waving a hand in front of her face, calling out to her, even shaking her. Nothing could snap her out of her trance; it was impossible, the building directly ahead of her was in one of her friends' photos, but it was an old, worn looking building.
No one could've repaired it without a single report on the matter. The building was a landmark, a tourist attraction; any repairs would only harm its history value.
The Santa Maria Novella, shining as if it was built yesterday.
Vanessa soaked in the people, the clothing, the buildings, the stands, the guards and their swords; the conclusion she arrived at screamed in her head but she didn't want to listen.
Fifteenth Century Florence...!
Late Authors Note:
So the story is fast paced at the beginning, but Vanessa's past and reason for being there will be dealt with as time goes on.
This is also a replacement to my other ACII story, one I wasn't happy with the feedback on so I decided to make it more interesting! Bringing you this story about Vanessa Ryder; a Native American woman who's been transported back through the written words of Rodrigo Borgia and the power infused within his journal from The Staff and The Apple.
Yes, Vanessa Ryder is a Native American, though her family history is a bit diverse, her main ancestry is just that.