Author's Note: Hey guys. Thanks for the support! I really hope you like the next installment. And yes, for those of you who haven't figured it out, I'm taking the mythology from Assassin's Creed video game and putting it in here. That's my other obsession. Not a straight crossover cause I only reference the characters for the game, not feature them. Review!
Chapter 13: Aftershock
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Mike's head was already pounding but as soon as he realized Robert was trying to kill Rose, he ignored the pain. He didn't know what to do, but Micky took action first. He deftly and quickly stabbed one of the men restraining him in the throat. No sooner did the man drop to the ground than the other man pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Micky's heart.
"NO!" Ginny and Rose both screamed. In the surprise, the men restraining Rose must have loosened their grip because she ran straight for Micky. Ginny raised her hand partway in that second the gun went off. Time very nearly stopped, except Mike never saw the bullet. He only saw Micky drop to the ground and a large red stain appear on his chest. Ginny fainted next to Micky and Rose dropped to her knees to cradle him. The sound of the gunshot seemed to pull Mike back. Despite the pounding in his head, he rushed for Ginny, pretty sure why she'd fainted and knowing he needed to protect her.
"STOP!" Robert roared with anger. Mike was sure Robert wasn't talking to him, but rather the man that had just shot Micky. Mike took Ginny in his arms and held her close to him just as Rose did with Micky, protectively. Robert stormed over to the man who shot Micky and pushed him into the wall. "What do you think you're doing!?"
"He shot my brother!" the man roared angrily.
"I don't really give a shit!" Robert roared back, pulled the gun out from the man's hands and pointed it at his head. The gun went off and the man slumped dead next to his brother and Micky. His blood sprayed all over, including all over Rose, Micky, Ginny and Mike. Mike barely noticed it, shocked at what had just happened. "NO ONE HARMS THEM WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! Do I make myself clear?!"
"Yes, sir," the others in the room said, save for Francesco who actually seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Get him upstairs to Doctor Lee!" Robert barked. Three of the men immediately moved to grab Micky. Rose let them take him, knowing they'd be the only ones to help him. Mike glanced at Micky as they carried him out. He was still awake; which was a very good sign. Mike thought Robert would leave with Micky, but he didn't. He grabbed Rose by the neck and lifted her to her feet.
"Robert, watch your temper," Francesco said.
"Give me one good reason not to paint the walls with your blood right now and let your brother clean it up for that little stunt of his!" Robert said angrily pinning Rose against the wall, completely ignoring Francesco. Robert lifted her up by the throat leaving her feet dangling off the ground.
"You don't want to do that," Mike said trying his hardest to just remain calm. The pain at the back of his head was spreading and the corners of his vision were starting to blur. "You know you'll just piss him off. He won't learn anything from that. He'll be too blinded by rage. He'll come after you and try to kill you only to die at your hands."
"If I were you, I'd focus on my daughter and your son right now," Francesco said. Robert slowly turned around, but didn't let go of Rose, clawing at his hands. Mike could tell she was weak, likely from the poison in the air. Normally she'd be able to fight off an attack like this.
"What happened to her?" Robert asked.
"She fainted," Mike answered. "With all these chemicals you got pumping in here, it's making us all sick. Look at Rose. You know she'd normally have kicked your ass by now. Ginny saw the love of her life get shot right in front of her. She couldn't take it."
"I told you to hold back on the drugs," Francesco said. "If she's going to be able to do what we need her to, she needs her strength. None of them will attack you. They know better. Now let the girl go and look in on your son." Robert nearly growled and finally let go of Rose. She dropped to her knees, holding her throat and gasping for air.
"Get the box back upstairs," Robert said coldly to the other men left in the room. "And clean this mess up." They nodded and grabbed the stretcher to carry it out of the room. A few carried the two dead men out of the room as well. Robert stood there for a moment before turning back to Rose. Before Mike could react, Robert hit Rose over the head with the butt of the gun. She slumped to the ground, completely out cold. Mike closed his eyes, fighting against the impulse to fight back. He knew if he did, things would go from very, very bad to worse. He waited for everyone to leave the room before he carefully carried Ginny over to the bed. Once he set her down, he rushed over to Rose. Blood dripped down the side of her face from an open wound on the side of her head. Mike carefully knelt next to her and picked her up. Once he set her on another bed nearby, he grabbed a cloth and began cleaning her wounds.
"I tried, Rose," Mike said fighting back tears. He forced himself to focus only on what he was doing. He couldn't focus on anything else, or he'd never be able to do what needed to be done. He cleaned all the blood from Rose, including the blood belonging to the man Robert had shot in the head. Once he was satisfied, he bandaged her wound with the bag of first aid supplies before moving his attention to Ginny. He knew she'd passed out from using too much energy saving Micky more than the poison in the air, but he wanted her to at least be clean. She shouldn't have to wake up covered in someone else's blood. He was sure some of it was Micky's blood, too. He worked quickly, but expertly to clean all the blood off Ginny as well. Finally, he tucked both of them into the beds and walked into the bathroom.
It had already been two hours since Micky had been shot. Mike stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom now cleaning himself up when he couldn't stay strong anymore. A sudden wave of nausea crashed over him as he stared at the bloody towel in his hands and thought of the two unconscious women he loved just outside the door. Not to mention his best friend have very nearly just been shot in the heart. He couldn't help himself; he bent over the toilet bowl and wretched. His throat burned more and more each time he threw up, but somehow it helped him to feel a little better. His body didn't feel quite as tense, yet the pain in his head intensified. It was like something was squeezing his brain.
He leaned back against the wall next to the toilet when he felt like he was done throwing up. His mind went over everything that happened. He'd been terrified when Robert had grabbed him and pushed him toward the box. When he touched it, he knew he was going to die. Instead, images and voices flooded through his head. It was in that instant the pain in his head started. He couldn't understand what was happening and the one person he thought that might be able to give him answers was passed out. He bent his head down between his knees, trying anything to stop the pain. He closed his eyes and the images and voices came back. A burly man stood before him, speaking in a muffled voice. His long black hair was tied with a ribbon behind his head and he had a worried look. Before Mike could understand anything else, the image shifted. Another man, a little farther away and blurry, was yelling at him. Mike felt something around his throat, but couldn't figure out what. He felt as though he was talking, mumbling under his breath, but he couldn't figure out what he was saying. Whatever was around his throat tightened and the image in his head went dark. But he still heard voices.
"Mike?" the voice said. It was familiar this time. He knew it. He forced himself to focus on that voice. "Mike, are you ok?"
"Ginny?" Mike asked suddenly realizing who the voice belonged to. He wasn't leaning against the wall anymore. He was lying on the floor and suddenly felt cold. Ginny was kneeling on the floor in front of him.
"You've been out for half an hour," Ginny said.
"I have?" Mike asked confused. He looked at his watch and saw he'd actually been in here for about 4 hours. He must have passed out after throwing up.
"What happened to you?" Ginny asked as Mike sat up and leaned against the wall again.
"Nothing," Mike lied not wanting to worry her. "I just fell asleep."
"That's not true," Ginny said reaching out for his forehead to touch him softly. "You threw up and you're covered in blood. Your pupils are dilated and you're sweating. What's going on?"
"Stress," Mike answered. "And it's not my blood. It's the guy who shot Micky. Robert put a bullet in his head. I tried to clean it up…"
"But passed out?" Ginny said.
"I didn't even know I'd passed out to be honest," Mike said. "I just needed to rest my head."
"Mike, you can't fool me, this is more than just stress," Ginny said firmly.
"Why didn't I die?" Mike asked after a few moments. "When I touched the box...you said everyone who touches that box dies. Even you."
"I don't know," Ginny answered. "It doesn't make sense to me either. I wish my mother were still alive. She'd know."
"I'm sorry," Mike said seeing a saddened look cross her face.
"Did the box make you sick like this?" Ginny asked focusing back on him.
"I...maybe…" Mike said. He really didn't want to admit any of this to her; he knew it would only serve to stress her out. But something about the resolve on her face told him she wouldn't leave him alone until he told her. Besides, maybe she could get some answers for him. "I've been fighting for so long to keep things together. But my head has been killing me since I touched that box."
"Your head?" Ginny asked. "Maybe I can help with that."
"No," Mike said as she reached up towards his forehead again. "You just passed out by helping Micky. You need to rest."
"Yeah, not really sure how I did that," Ginny said. "I didn't even think about it. I shouldn't have been able to. With the drugs in the air and everything. I just reacted."
"I don't care how you did it," Mike said. "You saved his life."
"Did Robert see what I did?"
"No, he thinks you passed out because you were already weak from the drugs and you got upset when you saw Micky get shot."
"Good."
"I-I saw something. When I touched the box."
"What do you mean you saw something?"
"I can't explain it. It's like...almost like I went somewhere and saw something."
"What did you see?"
"It was mostly blurry." Mike clutched his head as another wave of pain overwhelmed him.
"Maybe you should lay down."
"Like you should be doing right now."
"Ok, we'll both lie down."
"Alright." Mike stood up but felt another wave of nausea drop him back to his knees. He buried his face back in the toilet bowl and felt Ginny's hand on the top of his head.
"I know you said no, but you're in too much pain for me to let you suffer," Ginny said. He almost argued with her, but she was already mumbling something under her breath. When her fingertips grazed over the top of his head, he felt a warm, tingling sensation run across his head. He felt a lot of pressure release on his head and closed his eyes again to fall asleep. When he slept, he finally saw a clear picture of what was in his mind.
Two men were conversing around a fire in large, elegant chairs. The men wore white powdered wigs and clothing like those right out of a puritan history book. Mike thought it odd and had no idea what was happening. He felt himself move forward, as if he were inhabiting another body he had no control over. The men turned as Mike approached them. When they saw him, they both stood and bowed in greeting.
"You wished to see me?" Mike asked in a voice he didn't recognize.
"Yes sir," one of them said, taller than the other with blue eyes. "We've received reports that the Templars are planning something big."
"Big?" Mike asked.
"They know you're not in Maine," the second said, shorter and with brown eyes. "They're aware it was only a cover and that a look alike is in your place. They plan to draw you out into the open. They think you have the prophet."
"Why would they think that?" Mike asked.
"I don't know, but they want to lure you out to get to them," the taller one said.
"We cannot let them get to the prophet," Mike said.
"We don't even know who it is," the taller man said. "But we will find out and protect them."
"Do you have something to say?" Mike asked as the shorter man scowled.
"I don't understand why you would sacrifice yourself for a false prophet," the shorter man said. "You are far more important."
"What makes you think the prophet is false?" Mike asked.
"The Lord is the one true prophet, sir," he answered.
"The Book speaks of other prophets sent by God himself," Mike said. "Who are we to say this is not the case here."
"The prophet has never been wrong before," the taller man agreed.
"The prophet rarely speaks," the shorter man argued. "Which is why no one knows their identity."
"Odd for a false prophet, don't you think?" Mike said. "False prophets want to be heard. Spread their lies for profit or fame. This prophet seeks neither. This prophet also acts without speaking. Saves lives by other means. When he knows of a disaster or attack, he prevents it or keeps people away. He saves lives."
"And employs the Devil's magic to do so," the shorter man said.
"You only call it Devil's work because you do not understand it," Mike said. "The Lord bestowed gifts on other worthy citizens. Who are we to question that?"
"You believe in this prophet then?" the shorter man asked.
"I believe we must investigate," Mike answered. "We cannot assume to know the truth at this venture. We must find this prophet and protect him from the Templars. False or otherwise."
"You would still give your life if this prophet proves false?" the shorter man asked incredulously. "You are far more valuable! You have saved thousands! Myself included!"
"Every life is valuable," Mike said calmly. "Who am I to assume mine is any more or less than another? That is left for God to judge and not man."
"Sir!" a third man exclaimed running up behind them. "I know you said you didn't wish to be disturbed, but I thought you should hear this!"
"What is it?" Mike asked.
"I just received a letter stating that a church in New York collapsed," the man answered. "The doors were welded shut with a weld unlike any blacksmith had seen. No one could get inside, so they held Mass outdoors. In the middle of Mass, the church collapsed. Fifty men, women and children would have been killed if they'd been inside."
"Sabotage?" the tall man asked.
"Not according to the letter," the third man said. "A structural beam had been worn down by ice and rain. Complete structural failure."
"I should head for New York," Mike said.
"Can you be sure this is the work of the prophet?" the short man asked.
"The weld is a dead giveaway," the tall man answered for Mike. "No blacksmith has ever been able to figure out how it's being done."
"Agreed," Mike said. "Before I leave, did you find out what it is the Templars plan to lure me out?"
"Just that it involves mass hysteria," the shorter man said. "They managed to get a complete list of our brethren and supporters."
"We believe they plan to kill our brothers and sisters to get to you," the taller man added.
"That would draw too much attention," Mike said.
"We know," the taller man said.
"Find out more," Mike said turning to the third man. "I ride for New York in an hour. Prepare my horse." The third man nodded and ran out of the room. Mike nodded to the other two men and swiftly left the room as well.
