"Bad kids, all my friends are bad kids, product-of-no-dad kids, kids like you and me. Bad kids, ain't no college grad kids, livin' out on the skids, kids like you and me." –Black Lips, "Bad Kids"

-o-

When they arrived in Boston, Jacqueline burst out of the carriage and stretched her legs happily. It was snowing now, a little dusting down on the three of them. Crowds bustled in the streets. The smell of something cooking drifted tantalizingly through the buildings. Soldiers marched, looking bored, in perfect unison down the sides of the street, avoiding a cart full of hay as it clattered past. Laughing children barreled through them, getting some yells of annoyance from the stoic redcoats.

"Oh, la belle ville!" Jacqueline bounced up and down and looked about ready to run off, but Achilles grabbed her arm.

"Don't go abandoning us right now, girl," He said. "You'll have plenty of time for that later."

Ratonhnhaké:ton, meanwhile, was utterly fascinated by his new surroundings. A woman in a simple cotton dress and parasol walked past, and he watched her as though she were wearing a fish on her head. His actions got a smack from Achilles' cane.

"Don't stare." He chastised.

Ratonhnhake:ton cast his eyes down. "Sorry."

Achilles jerked his head and started walking. "Come on."

That wasn't going to stop them, though, and the teenagers followed him with increasing restlessness. "This place is incredible. The people, the sounds, the smells. I could walk these streets for days and know not even half its wonders."

"I thought the same as you, upon a time. Now I much prefer the quiet of the countryside." Achilles smiled wistfully.

"Non, non!" Jacqueline exclaimed, being mostly ignored. "Oh, what a crime to stay away from the city for so long!"

"But there is so much life here," Ratonhnhaké:ton went on. "So many opportunities."

"For a few, my boy. For a few." Achilles sighed, and came to a halt at a small crossroads. At the end of the intersecting road was a busy market and the townhouse. "There's a store close to here. Buy what's on this list." Here he handed over a folded piece of paper. "Tell them where the carriage is, and they'll see that it's loaded. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good!" He tossed a large coin purse to Jacqueline, who caught it with a devilish smile. "You're also going to need a new name. Your skin is fair enough that you might pass for one with Spanish or Italian blood. Better to be thought a Spaniard than a Native…and both are better still than I."

"That is not true."

"What true and what is aren't always the same."

"What would you call me, then?"

Achilles paused. "…Connor. Yes. That will be your name. All right, then, off you go." He pushed the cane into his back to usher him along.

"Finally." Jacqueline jogged ahead a few paces. "Come on, let's race!"

Without waiting for his answer, she took off. Her boots crunched in the dirty snow, throwing it up in her wake. Behind her, she could hear Connor following. It felt good to burn the pent-up energy of anticipation through exercise. A couple merchants yelled in irritation as she dove straight through their stalls, jumping and weaving through the marketplace.

Before she could even make it down the next branching alley, she felt a tap on her shoulder and glanced back to see a smug Connor running right at her heels. She laughed and jogged to a halt, shaking her head.

"Damn it, Ra—Connor." She corrected herself, and waved a hand. "That isn't fair."

"Would you like a head start next time?"

"Oh, shut up." She gave him a one-handed shove and turned to the building they were standing at. "Let's try the rooftops this time."

Latching onto a snowy windowsill, she pulled herself up onto the angled roof. It was also slippery with soft snow, but she had no trouble balancing on the apex of the building. Connor joined her seconds later, looking out over the marketplace with her.

"Have you been to Boston before?" He asked.

"Not Boston, no," Jacqueline walked down the roof, her feet toe to heel and arms out, like she actually needed to do that to balance. "I lived in a city back in France. It's my…how should I put it? Natural habitat."

"The city is wonderful." Connor slid down the side, kicking up snow and landing squarely on a protruding window alcove. "Why would Achilles ever want to leave a place like this?"

"He has his reasons. For instance, did you know he had a family once?"

"No. Who were they?"

"A wife and son. I think they died of fever, or a wolf attack, or something terribly tragic like that." Jacqueline tipped forward to walk along the same path on her hands. "Their graves are on the manor's land. Don't you wonder why Achilles chose the name Connor?"

There was a short pause as he figured it out. "So the other Connor was—"

"Oui. It's actually very touching."

She slowly lowered herself forward by the feet, making an arch for a moment, belly up, before standing with her arms in the air. That pose was kept for a few seconds, and she then repeated the routine. Her movements were purposeful and steady. They remained in the peaceful winter air, saying nothing. Connor looked out over the city, still sitting on the window alcove with her legs crossed contentedly. A dog barked below. Smoke rose from a nearby chimney to make plumes of foggy smoke that disintegrated in the white sky.

Jacqueline stopped her acrobatics and sighed. Her breath made a smaller version of the chimney's excretions. "Well, let's get on with this shopping business. I want to spend time in the city without having to worry about it."

She jumped and slid down the roof, leaping from the end to the next building over. It was slanted as well, so they leapt from window to window. They turned right and went that way until Jacqueline stopped on the roof to the shop. She peered over the edge. After judging the distance and psyching up to it, she jumped down to roll onto the overhang, and from there hopped to the pavement.

Connor followed her path and brushed some snow off his sleeve. She gestured for him to go first, and he walked into the shop and out of the cold, sharp city winter. A small fire crackled in the hearth. No one was at the counter, so they wandered quietly in the empty shop. Jacqueline toyed amusedly with a hanging raccoon skin.

"You lost?" The shop owner emerged from the back room. He was overweight with thinning hair and messy stubble.

There was a pause. Jacqueline nudged Connor forward. He seemed to remember why they were there in the first place, and set Achilles' list on the counter. "I need the items on this list."

The owner didn't look at it. "Will you being paying in coin, or in trade?"

Jacqueline tossed the coin purse so it landed between them with a resounding, heavy jingle. His small eyes lit up with unconcealed greed. He tipped the coins out into a pile, pushed it forward slightly, and looked at the list.

"Some of these things I have, some I don't," He decided, and began picking out the coins for payment. "Lumber is hard to come by since my supplier up and vanished. I have the tools and pitch, though. Nails, too. Where do you want this delivered?"

"Our wagon is near the statehouse." Connor scraped the rest of the coins into the pouch.

"That was actually easy," Jacqueline commented once they were outside again. "I don't usually buy…what the hell?"

The city had undergone a radical change while they were in the shop. Citizens ran down the street in the direction of the market. They were yelling obscenities that sounded vaguely anti-British. A few men were even brawling with some redcoats. Connor and Jacqueline took in their surroundings, and started off toward the market. Occasionally someone would shove past them or give them an angry look before continuing in the same direction.

"We need to find Achilles." Jacqueline raised her voice over the yelling of the market crowd. Connor nodded in agreement. They shouldered their way through the shifting, dangerous tussle until they found a familiar hunched figure, standing like the eye of the storm.

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"That's what we're going to find out. Come on." Achilles led them around the market stalls, limping quickly.

The scene was in dangerous and unstable, but it hadn't quite descended into total chaos yet. It had the feeling of a powder keg that was ready to go off at any moment. All it needed was a spark. Redcoats were standing in a defensive firing line, facing the boiling crowd that threatening to surge over. One soldier stood up on the steps, and was trying his best to calm the angry citizens.

"I say again, disperse!" He cried, hands out in what was supposed to be a calming manner. "Congregating in this manner is forbidden!"

"Oi! Why don't you go back to England?" Someone shouted over the babble.

"Nothing good can come of this chaos! Return to you homes, and all will be forgiven."

"Never!"

"Not until you've answered for your crimes!"

The poor fellow's attempts to stop them had only made things worse. Achilles placed a hand on Connor's shoulder and pointed with his cane to the townhouse. "Look."

Haytham was standing up above the rabble-rousers, speaking with another man. "Is that…my father?"

"Yes, which means trouble is sure to follow." Achilles kept his voice low, but it was unnecessary. "I need you to tail his accomplice. This crowd is a powder keg—we can't allow him to light the fuse."

"But…"

"But nothing! Do as I say and go. Both of you." He nodded as the accomplice walked away from Haytham and down a shadowed side street.

They obediently went after him, wandering a little, but still clearly following. People shoved past them as they rushed to join the growing crowd. The man walked down the street, not noticing them even as he turned a corner. Jacqueline jogged down to the alley he had entered and peeked around the corner. The man had stopped, and was facing the way he had come.

"Whoa, stop!" Jacqueline snatched Connor's hand before he could go around the corner, but it was too late. Only his foot went around the edge of the building, but it was enough. The man made a noise of suspicion. Footsteps crunched closer as he came to investigate.

"Put your hands on my waist." Jacqueline hissed.

"What?" Connor asked incredulously.

"Just do it. Quickly!" She placed her cheek on his shoulder and her arms around his neck. Watching through half-lidded eyes, she observed their quarry come around the corner. He looked around, frowning. His gaze slid right over them, not lingering for even a second. Apparently finding nothing or no one out of the ordinary, he turned back around and continued on his path.

"Is he gone?" She whispered.

Connor moved slightly to look. "Yes."

"Good. Let's go." Jacqueline tore away from him and the chase was back on.

The man's path cut across a small courtyard. He walked with single-minded purpose toward the far end, where a long ladder was set up against the building. He climbed up, and the hunters only followed when he was on the rooftop. Connor peered up, having gone first. He waited a moment, then darted up and waved Jacqueline up as he went. They pressed against the chimney when the man stopped and turned again. A moment later the footsteps continued. The man walked to the corner of the building. It looked over the townhouse from behind the crowd, so they had their backs to him for the most part.

"We have to stop him." Connor muttered. The man raised his rifle, and he darted out from cover.

"Connor! Ah, merde…" Jacqueline muttered, and watched as he leapt up and slammed his tomahawk into the man's back.

"Your plan in foiled." Connor had the man by the lapel, right in his face. The man coughed something she couldn't hear, and Connor looked over his shoulder.

Another man was on a rooftop behind them and across the street, standing calm and uninhibited with a flintlock pistol in his hand. Jacqueline squinted, and realised whom it was: Charles Lee. Before she could even think about drawing her bow, he shot the pistol with a massive bang. She could only watch in horror as, below by the townhouse, the redcoats opened fire on the pedestrians gathered below. She saw Haytham tap a Regular and point up to Connor, who was also frozen on the corner of the building.

"Connor, come on!" Jacqueline ran from cover and grabbed his hand. "Come on! Allons-y! Allez, allez, allons-y!"

The powder keg had erupted. Regulars swarmed to the rooftops to catch up with the fugitives. Gunshots exploded all around them, from below and above. Flashbacks of her last moments on French soil hit her like physical strikes. But they kept running, jumping and sprinting and climbing as far from the townhouse as they could. Eventually, their path led them to the wharf. There was a moment of scrabbling panic as they turned around and went the other way, but the marching of Regulars was deafening from all streets.

At the last second, Connor jumped into a hay bale they were stand next to, promptly dragging Jacqueline with him.

Sounds from the outside world were muffled in the damp hay. Regulars yelled things to other Regulars, and the footsteps continued swarming around their hiding place for a good while. It probably wasn't that long—it felt like hours. Eventually, the clanking of guns and boots trickled away, and they were left alone in the wet, cold, sound-consuming hay. Jacqueline let out a breath of relief and pressed her hands to her cheeks.

"Oh mon dieu," She laughed breathlessly. "How are we alive? I think we're dead."

Another chuckle of relief came from elsewhere in the hay, and she shifted through to see Connor lying back, his fingers pressed to his eyes. For a few minutes, they just sat and reveled in the miracle of not being dead. After a while, they decided it was safe to come out.

Jacqueline picked hay from her clothes, making a noise through her teeth: ch. "I'll be finding this everywhere now."

"We need to find Achilles." Connor stretched—he had been sitting against the cramped side of the hay cart.

"Damn, he could be anywhere by now. Where do we go?" They started walking, but not in any particular direction. Connor shrugged. Jacqueline shook her head, and put up her hood. "Fair enough."