Assassin's Creed: Vengeance
Lineages of Mysterious Proportions
November 9th, 2017
The Bronx, New York
Gavin was fuming after the news the Assassins had obtained from an Abstergo blood blank made it's way to his ship that had been anchored in the bay for several days at this point. Bishop's contact; Subject 21, had a secret that no one knew about, except him now. The patterns were too blatant not to ignore and it was a wonder that the eggheads in Abstergo missed it too.
He sent an email to 21 under the guise of "Alexander Thompson." the moniker Bishop was using to get his attention in the first place. He knew the boy would come calling if he thought Bishop was wanting to meet.
The door to the dark room opened and 21 stepped in. Gavin was still engulfed in shadow and completely hidden. "Lexie? Are you here?"
Lexie? Interesting… Gavin thought to himself.
Gavin lept from the darkness and advanced on 21. Unexpectedly, 21 fought back almost immediately and put the skilled Assassin firmly on his ass. Gavin laughed.
"So, the Bleeding Effect is working? Nice." he said.
"Who are you? Where's Lexie?" 21 asked as he stood over Gavin with his foot on his chest.
"Whoa there, I'm a friend. Gavin Banks, I'm an Assassin."
21 let up a little, before lending a hand to help him up. Gavin accepted the gesture and he got up off the floor. 21 sighed. "So, Lexie isn't here. Is she?"
Gavin shook his head. "It's just me."
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Alright, my associates stole a sample of your blood from an Abstergo facility in Miami. We analyzed it and boy, did we found something interesting."
"Okay, what did you find?"
Gavin took a step forward. "All that Precursor DNA in you? It's a real shocker Abstergo didn't notice before but…"
"But what?" 21 was ready to burst with anticipation.
"We compared your blood to the blood of a guy named John Standish. We found that from a facility we destroyed three years ago. And well; kid, they match almost perfectly."
21 was still extremely clueless. "What does that mean?"
Gavin took another step towards 21. "Those memories you've been poking around in, August Steigen's? They're yours. August isn't your ancestor; 21, you are August."
Kristoff couldn't believe it. He was a Sage? That seemed impossible. If it were so; according to the files, he'd have seen and manifested memories from previous incarnations.
"We used your blood and traced it all the way back as far as it would go? Wanna know something else? You're Lukas Zurburg, meaning you hid the Ankh seven hundred years ago and found it four hundred years later. Isn't that convenient?"
Kristoff didn't know what to say to that.
"Run back to your Animus and find us that Ankh, August. I'll be waiting."
/
August 24th, 1796
Amberg, Germany
Arno had beaten himself up about it too much as it was. He had been too rash and decided to pursue Cormac to Cologne only for him to be foiled and the German Mentor was killed. His only lead was a Frenchman named Abbatucci that might as well be dust in the wind. Since his incident, the Templars had gone to ground and all production had ceased to throw him off the trail. No one in the Brothers of the Cross would be found if they didn't want to be.
Arno had wandered through the battlefields, asking his countrymen where Abbatucci had gone but none knew for certain. A general consensus said he'd gone to someplace called Amberg but he couldn't know unless he investigated. Arno knew he was running out of time, every day he searched aimlessly for Abbatucci was another day Shay and Iolar were a step closer to the Ankh and whatever power it possessed.
He crested the hill overlooking Amberg, much to his dismay there was a battle raging down in the town below. Much of what he could see, he saw the main French force being flanked on two sides from the right flank and a frontal assault. The French were surprisingly grossly outnumbered by the Austrians and were soundly losing.
He urged his mount onward down the hill. He traveled for several more minutes before he made it to the city itself which had been all but destroyed and abandoned. Austrian soldiers ran about not paying attention to the Frenchman that had just strolled into town. Wandering through the empty streets for a few minutes he eventually found a nearly destroyed and hollowed out building where several men in Austrian uniforms were standing around a table.
Arno dismounted and approached the building. Sensing something off to his side, he put up a forearm to block as a hidden blade came inches from his throat. Behind the hidden blade was the German, August. He looked vastly different from their previous meeting, longer hair, a beard, scars fresh and old, and sunken, stressed eyes.
August smiled momentarily before withdrawing his blade. "Brother, what brings you here?"
Arno laughed. "It's been a long two months."
"I know more than most, I've been captured, shot, shot some more. But each time, my targets have eluded me."
The parallels weren't lost on Arno. "Pretty much the same, actually. So, what is happening here?"
August glanced around at the destroyed town of Amberg. "The French attacked this morning, it is a good thing the Archduke and Wilhelm von Wartensleben are here. Their combined military prowess has proven a bastion of hope for our men."
"What of Kehl? I heard there was a battle."
August sighed. "Ya, Kehl has been lost. I tried to stop them but Moreau had too many men."
"Who leads the French here?"
"Jourdan. Moreau went dark and I haven't been able to locate any information on where he went."
"That sounds familiar." Arno replied.
Arno and August started walking down the street towards the sounds of the ever escalating battle. "What do you mean?"
Arno sighed, reluctant to tell him. "I found the network. They call themselves the Brothers of the Cross and they're looking for something called the Ankh. It holds a great and terrible power."
August's mind experienced a flash. He saw strange images of a bygone age. An elderly Assassin dressed in ancient robes placing a strange artifact in a tomb before laying himself to rest in it. Then nothing.
Arno snapped his fingers. "Are you alright, mon ami?"
August shook his head for a moment. "Fine, I am alright."
"On y va?"
August nodded. "Ya, wir werden."
The two Assassins made their way to the battle which was still raging strong. As they overlooked the chaos and death, Arno used his ability to spy the French Templar Jourdan among the combatants. He was definitely a formidable fighter, many an Austrian fell to the tip of his French rapier.
Arno pointed his location out and August prepared to launch himself into the fray to finally catch his target. "We must wait for our chance." Arno said.
August said nothing, instead he practically hurled himself towards the battle, drawing his sword and letting out a mighty cry. Arno cursed and followed close behind. As they entered the fray, Arno lost August in the immense amount of bodies all around him. August however had no trouble making his way over to Jourdan.
Jourdan smiled when he saw the Assassin approach. "Moreau m'a parlé de vous, vous n'abandonnez pas, n'est-ce pas?" (Moreau has spoken of you, you don't give up, do you?)
August smiled in return. "A-t-il mentionné que j'ai l'intention de vous tuer, alors?" (Did he mention that I intend to kill you, then him?)
Jourdan lunged at the Assassin with the tip of his sword leading the charge, August sidestepped out of the way and with the leading edge of his own sword, knocking away the flimsy French rapier with ease. Jourdan looked shocked but with no hesitation, he withdrew a flintlock and aimed it.
August grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it into the air. Both men tried to force their will on it and sway it into a specific direction but they were giving equal force and for a while it did not budge. Finally, August got some sway on the gun and forced it to point directly into Jourdan's face.
Jourdan glanced down the barrel then at the Assassin holding the flintlock. "Au revoir, fils de pute" (Goodbye, you son of a bitch.)
August pressured the trigger just a little and Jourdan's face curled inwards as the ball went into his forehead and lodged in his brain. After the French soldiers realized their leader had been killed, they gradually began to retreat until the Austrians claimed victory. A bloody victory, but still a victory. One that was much needed in this step of the war.
Arno finally caught up with August as he was kneeling over Jourdan's corpse. Arno was for a moment, enraged but it subsided after a few seconds.
"I needed him alive. He knows where my only lead went."
August pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of Jourdan's coat. "This holds mention of an Abbatucci? Useful to you?"
Arno snatched the letter, it was written in French. "Dear Jean Baptiste Jourdan,
Due to complications, monsieur Abbatucci cannot assist you at your coming assault on Amberg. Our scouts have reported that the Austrian presence in Amberg is limited and you will not require his artillery support. Instead, I have ordered he embark across the Rhine once more for Huningue.
May the Father of Understanding guide you.
Jean Victor Marie Moreau
"The Templars don't look out for their own, it seems." August said as he read over Arno's shoulder.
"No, they do not."
