April 14, 1865
Good Friday
I sat uncomfortably in my seat, my Union Army uniform itching the sides of my body to the point of insanity. The theater was warm to the point where I was sweating from my neck in buckets, as I gasped.
"This theater is as hot as the devil."
To my right, my partner glared at me, her piercing blue eyes staring at me from the near dark environment of our box.
"Pierre, do be mindful of the fact that you are not here to enjoy the night, but to guard the President." She said elegantly. How was she not burning underneath the evening gown, I possibly would've never known.
"Not everyone is so accustomed to this damn Washington weather, Sarina." I retorted back, as I wiped my neck with my handkerchief. I saw her eyes flick over to my figure, before turning back to the stage, as the audience cackled at the man on the stage.
"I wouldn't worry so much about now matters, Lieutenant Rousseau," Abraham said, as he leaned over to me, "Quite simply, if you ignore the heat, you will not notice it." Abraham gave a smile, before becoming quite serious. "I am pleased that the order has sent you and Ms. Croft to be my detail this evening. I would trust no other pair of assassin's more."
I turned around, with a twinkle in my eye, before giving a grin.
"It is my pleasure, Mr. President." As soon as I said that, Abraham nodded his head, before sitting backwards and watching the play from our booth. He truly was a giant of a man, with his tall figure, and muscular statute. Turning back towards the play, I adjusted the collar to my uniform once more, and continued to watch.
To my right, Sarina reached into her pouch sown onto her belt, and pulled out her small pocket watch. Flicking the cover open, she eyed it, noticing that it was 10:10. She gave me a quick nudge, before pointing to her watch.
I stood up, leaning over to her. "Quick kiss for good luck?" She turned her head towards me so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her mouth opened like a fish, as I chuckled and stepped backward from the box. Exiting the room, I adjusted my hidden blade, and went to check on the guard, Officer John Parker.
I found an empty seat.
"Merde!" I muttered incredulously, as I withdrew my Colt Single Action Army from the holster on my uniform. I was about to open the door to alert Sarina, when I stopped. I would certainly panic Abraham and cause a commotion, which might be over nothing. Letting go of the door knob, I stepped back into the loft. Knowing the Officer, I realized that the idiot must've gotten thirsty and left to go grab a drink next door at the tavern. I holstered my Single Action Army.
Snarling to myself, I immediately exited the loft to head down to the lobby, but something blocked my way. Slamming my shoulder into a body, I sent both me and a man tumbling backwards. Regaining my balance, I expertly withdrew my hand grabbing the man's tie before pulling him back to balance.
"Thank you, my friend!" The man gasped, relieved that he wasn't about to fall on his bum.
Wafting my hand at him in disregard, I made for the stairs, before stopping and turning around.
"Do I know you, monsieur?" I spoke curtly, as I tried to remember his face.
"I don't believe so, sir. I'm just a decent actor, hoping to meet a great man. John Wilkes Booth." John held out his hand, smiling.
Remembering the man, who put on amazingly good shows, according to the newspapers that the officers laid around inside the barracks, I shook it.
"Pierre Rousseau." Leaning forward to shake his hand, I saw John stare at the medals on my chest, to the point where I believed I spilled some food on it when I was dining with Sarina earlier.
"Is something the matter?" I said curtly.
"Yes.. I mean no.. well, I have seen a lot of uniforms, but I've never seen that medal before." John extended an arm, pointing a long and grimy finger at the said offender on my chest. His finger nail was millimeters away from touching my Templar Cross, which was hanging off my left breast. Raising an eyebrow, I spoke.
"It's not a standard medal, it was sent to me from France." Quickly making up a story on the spot, technically, I wasn't wrong, but I wasn't right either. The grandmaster always mentored me about lying. Everything has to have at least half a truth in it.
"I see.. strange." John said, as he leaned backwards quickly. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you shortly to meet with the President, yes?"
Snorting, I spoke. "Hardly, nobody is allowed to enter. The guard we parked outside the door is gone. He probably went outside to have a drink or smoke his pipe. I will check on him. In the meantime, you can wait out here in the foyer until I return."
John had a faraway look in his eye, as if he was a man thinking, or a man possessed, "Yes, I will do exactly that. I'll just wait out here."
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Booth."
"Likewise, Mr. Rousseau."
I departed from the foyer, heading down the stairs quickly. Grinning and nodding as I moved past an attractive group of women, who swooned at my officer's uniform, I stepped outside into the warm, night air outside Ford Theater. Heading down the street towards the nearest tavern, The Lone Star, but something caught my eye.
Looking down towards the pavement, I noticed drop droplets of what would've appeared to be water to some, but to a trained Templar, blood. Removing my Colt Single Action Army, I looked around the deserted street, before following the droplets of blood. Leading me to the alley separating the Lone Star Tavern, and Ford Theater, I held up my Colt as the alleyway soon gave way to darkness instead of light.
"Parker..! Parker, are you here?!" I whispered harshly into the darkness, squinting into the darkness. A small gurgling noise come in front. Scurrying over, I gasped as I saw Officer Parker sitting up against the wall, holding his throat as blood forced it's way through his fingers.
"Mon dieu, what happened?!" I said, as I hurriedly went on to peeled away Parker's hands to inspect the wound. The wound was a direct puncture, it was deep and clean. It was the signature wound of only one group of people. Assassins, I thought darkly, as I held Parker's wound. Looking up at me, with blood gurgling from his mouth, I heard him speak.
"A..Ac..a…" Officer Parker gave a final gurgle, before succumbing to his wound. What did he say? Accent? Or was it actor? Piecing the bits together, I immediately stood up, and sprinted full out back to the entrance of Ford Theater. Opening the door into the lobby, the attractive group of women now looking repulsed at the Union Army Officer, who looked as crazed as a madman, with chest and forearms covered in blood, I immediately headed for the stairs to the private boxes, hearing the sounds of the theater.
"Don't know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal; you sockdologizing old man-trap!"
Hysterical laughter erupted from the audience, as I entered the foyer, immediately running for the door.
"Sarina!" I shouted, I doubt she heard me over the laughter of the audience. No doubt she was also giggling madly at the line that was spoken, because I sure would've been cackling. But then, I heard it. The unmistakable sound for someone who spent years at a time on the battlefield, the gunshot of a black powder weapon went off. The crack erupted from the room in front of me, even though the door was closed and the sound was nearly drowned out from the crowd. Opening the door, I entered the room to see a scene in front of me.
John Wilkes Booth looked at me, with his mouth agape, as black powder smoke billowed around his right arm. Enclosed in his hand was a derringer, with one shot obviously fired. President Lincoln was leaning forward from his seat, before coming to a stop on Mary Todd Lincoln's shoulder. Sarina was already jumping to her feet, her hand in the folds of her dress, no doubt to retrieve her knife and gun.
Without further ado, John Wilkes Booth snarled out, "Rest in Peace." He then turned around, and mounted the balcony. I raised my Colt, aiming it at Booth's back, yelling "Stop!" Booth quickly jumped off the balcony, landing on the stage below in a roll. The audience gasped, believing it to be a part of the show. He raised his derringer into the air, before yelling.
"Sic Semper Tyranus!"
I aimed my Colt Single Action Army at him, before Sarina quickly pushed my arm up, ruining my shot. Booth exited the theather, exiting through the side. Before he left, he looked up at me, giving a small, sad smile. He turned his head, and departed.
I quickly turned to Sarina, frustrated. "I could've killed him!"
Sarina, level-headed as always, replied. "No, we take him alive!"
She grabbed my arm, before running back into the foyer. We both ran down the steps, two-at-a-time, with our guns drawn. The attractive group of ladies screaming at us along the way to the exit. We both exited into the warm night, turning to the right to see Booth on a horse, riding off down Virginia. I was about to pursue him, before Sarina held her arm to my chest.
"It's no use. He's gone."
What an interesting way to start off my new story and the debut of my account. I hope you all like it. Feedback and general ideas where to take my story are always appreciated! Stay cool.
Best Wishes,
Holt