Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Night Riders

June 14th, 1796

German Countryside Between Altenkirchen and Wetzlar

August awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of something rattling against the bars of his compact prison on wheels. He stirred and sat up from his pile of hay on the floor. Outside, he saw a few figures messing around. After a few curses, the door opened and Gunther and Johann snuck in.

"Evening, August." Gunther said with a smile.

August wanted to murder and hug Gunther at the same time. He was happy to see him, but at the same time, he disobeyed orders and possibly cost them the life of Moreau, resulting in his own capture.

Johann inserted a twisted metal stick into the lock and it clicked. The door swung open and August stepped out back into freedom. Gunther was holding his equipment under his arm. He gave him his robes and his sword, pistol, rifle, and both hidden blades. August was one of the few Assassins who still used to old tradition of two hidden blades instead of one.

The Assassins bolted from the small prison and out into a field beside the road. Behind them in the camp, they could hear soldiers clamouring to stop the escaping prisoner, but there were grossly unaware of where they'd actually fled to.

When they were certain they were safe from any search parties, the small band of Assassins stopped in the middle of the moonlit field.

"So," August said. "How goes the war?"

Gunther shrugged. "It's only been ten days since Jourdan crossed the Rhine. The two French armies spit and are heading to assault Wetzlar and Kehl."

"We cannot be in two places at once. Have you heard anything from Dorian?"

Johann shook his head. "Not since he departed for Berlin. He's gone dark. Perhaps captured."

"Or just good at his job. We cannot worry about him now. Johann, you will go to Wetzlar and assist our brothers there. Gunther, you and I must travel to Kehl. If that is where Moreau will be that is where we will be."

Gunther frowned. "Is this the mission, or a vendetta?"

August took a deliberate step towards the young Assassin. "You can make decisions when you prove yourself capable of following decisions of your betters, herr Schulze. Now, we are going to Kehl, we will kill Moreau, and we will save Germany."

Gunther shook his head in slight shame. Everyone knew that August was being led by blind vengeance for his humiliation at Altenkirchen. It seemed that the only one who wasn't aware of this was August himself.

"We'd best get moving then, hmm?" Gunther said.

/

November 4th, 2017

43 39 19 N 75 27 42, Upstate New York

Lexie stood in the center of the massive chamber. This was the Grand Temple. The place where the Precursors developed the Methods. Different projects that were designed to save the world if need be. It was where Desmond Miles died and Juno's ethereal form was released into the world. Or so those rumors said, Lexie wasn't prepared to dive down that rabbit hole.

"So, this is the place you wanted to meet?" a voice behind her said.

Lexie turned to face the second person to visit the Temple in 4 years since Abstergo collected Desmond's body. "Hey, Gavin."

Gavin Banks smiled. "Hi, Bishop. Remind me, why we're here?"

"Because Abstergo is doing something big."

Gavin shrugged. "When are they not?"

Lexie waved off his derogatory comment. "I mean bigger than usual. It involves the Bleeding Effect. They're calling it the Brother's Project."

"Hmph, usually they outdo themselves with their project names but that one's a little weak."

"Gavin, this is serious!" Lexie almost shouted.

"The Bleeding Effect, so what? We've seen what it does. This is old news."

"Subjects 18-21 all shared blood before being hired by Abstergo. Apparently, they all have alarmingly large amounts of Precursor DNA. All the memories the Subjects are looking through involve Artifacts that supposedly were made in this Temple as one of the Methods."

"And your source? Subject 21? How do you know he can be trusted?"

Lexie shrugged. "He's the one with the least amount. The Bleeding Effect will take more time to take hold of him. That gives us time and loyalty."

Gavin frowned. "I prefer when loyalty isn't temporary, Bishop."

"Give Kristoff time. He'll find the Ankh and give us the data before Salen can get his hands on it."

Gavin's eyes widened. "You didn't mention him."

"Does it matter?"

"Ronald Salen is extremely dangerous and has a far and powerful reach. Hell, he could know you're here right now. And if he does, we-"

There was a loud scraping sound. It was the door to the Temple opening once again. This time, a team of uniformed agents with assault rifles stormed in. With Ronald Salen close behind.

Gavin and Lexie ducked into one of the smaller chambers and out of sight. The strike team moved all around the room. Salen walked up to the equipment that had been left there by William Miles and his team. Stuff Abstergo didn't bother taking. Including Rebecca Crane's makeshift Animus.

"So, this is where it all started." Salen said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

One of the strike team came up beside Salen. "Room clear, sir. Moving to the next."

Salen nodded and kept walking forward towards the front of the chamber where Desmond met his end five years earlier. He noticed the pedestal was still there. The odd Precursor machine that killed Subject/Sample 17. It was enamoring in it's design. Unhuman, like that big red button you're always told not to touch. He felt drawn to it.

"Sir, I don't recommend touching the pedestal." an agent said.

"And why not, sergeant? It's been drained of power long ago…"

Salen placed a hand on the pedestal, unlike what was supposed to happen; which was nothing, a surge of power rippled from the bottom of the machine and up into Salen's arm. He felt an extremely painful sensation, like being stabbed and pulled away.

"Sir, are you alright?" one of the agents asked.

No, you dumbass. You're not alright. I'm in your head now.

Salen shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine."

Liar. The voice said.

"Sir, I recommend we leave this place immediately."

"Yes, lets."

Yeah, Ronny. Let's get out of here.

/

June 14th, 1796

Berlin, Germany

Arno was becoming more and more annoyed with still being trapped in his damned room somewhere in Berlin. He had resorted to picking at the nails in the floorboards until his fingernails started to bleed and peel off. He managed to loosen a few boards, big enough for him to fit through down into the second floor. But, he constantly had to replace the board and cover it up with a carpet as well as hide his hands every time someone came in with one of his two meals a day.

One day, after Arno had lost count of how many had passed, the door opened and Iolar Cormac walked in. He wasn't heralding a plate of food like his father had some days previous, instead he wielded a butcher's knife. A tool he seemed oddly comfortable with.

He took a breath before speaking. "Do you consider yourself an optimist, Arno. A sadist? I've only known you as a Swedish Templar so forgive me for not knowing much about Arno Dorian."

Arno chuckled. "More of a nihilist, really."

Iolar stared at him for a moment. "Then why do you fight? if you truly are a nihilist, there isn't a reason for you to continue opposing my father and I."

"I quite like denial. Denying Templars satisfaction."

"It seems your Order likes doing the same to you. My father is right you know, the fragile bond between your creed and yourself will soon dissolve into nothing. Then, maybe you'll truly be devoted to nihilism."

Arno shrugged. "Or existentialism. I do so enjoy that one."

Iolar was becoming quite annoyed by Arno's wordplay and banter. "You understand your position, yes? You stand between my father and his goal; however barely, you fight for an order that wouldn't even think of fighting for you. And you're the humanely kept prisoner of the order you want to see razed. My father may shower you with philosophical questions about your place in the universe, but do not expect the same from me, Arno Victor Dorian."

Iolar got in Arno's face, so much so that Arno could smell that morning's breakfast and the alcohol from the night before.

He spoke again. "You will break one day, Arno. But I will turn you into dust… Fitting, isn't it? Two generations of Cormac's killing two generations of Dorian's."

Iolar turned on his heels and walked straight out the door and slammed it behind him. Arno could sense someone was outside the door waiting for him. From the sound of it, it was the German, Alrick Winckelmann. Arno honed in his senses to listen.

Too bad for the Templars, Arno had plenty of time to learn German perfectly. "Ihr Vater ist nach Köln gegangen. Er hat mich gebeten, dafür zu sorgen, dass du das gleiche morgen früh tust, Herr Cormac." (Your father has left for Cologne, he asked me to make sure you do the same by tomorrow morning, Mr. Cormac.)

Iolar replied. "Danke, Winkelmann. Bereiten Sie den Wagen vor, um mittags auszusteigen." (Thank you, Winkelmann. Prepare the carriage to disembark by noon.)

"Noon? I must act fast then."

Arno flipped over the carpet that covered up the loose boards. Finally prying them apart, Arno slipped into the second floor where there on a table were his robes and weapons. The Templars had apparently found his stache in Svensson's hotel room where he had hid them. Arno thought this was quite fortuitous. He donned his robes for the first time in two weeks and was once again Arno Dorian the Assassin. Not Viktor Svensson the Templar or Arno the prisoner.

Arno opened the window and slipped out. "I'll need to get to those stables. However, Winckelmann can't know I was there."

Arno made his way down the street via rooftops and onto the stables. He made his way to Iolar's carriage without attracting attention. Stealthily, Arno made his way beside the carriage and hid inside the luggage compartment which had been expanded; thankfully, to accommodate for the large amount of luggage a wealthy Templar family would be carrying.

It was about the size of a person and Arno climbed to the very back of it and curled into a ball as tight as he could. Arno knew it'd get boring quick. So; using his hidden blade, he cut out a hole in the compartment about the size of a plume. So he could see, and breath.

After a while, he could hear indistinct chattering and the carriage rocking about as someone climbed inside. Arno assumed it was Iolar and the driver. He heard the crack of a whip and the carriage lurched forward. Iolar Cormac was off to Cologne, unaware that he was carrying a stowaway Assassin with him.