Chapter 5:5

1775, June 17th

"We're part of an association called the Judicators—"

"I don't have time for listening to any more of your lies, sergeant," I interrupted and pushed him aside. "We have to warn Mr. Pitcairn."

He grabbed my upper arm and forced me around. Our eyes locked and I glared at Sergeant Somerset, furiously trying to make him let go of me.

"You have to listen, I'm sorry for—"

"For what?" I hissed and pointed behind me. "You better be sorry for not letting me go to Mr. Pitcairn; every second you're losing me, the more time you're giving Connor."

He averted his gaze from mine and I realized that it was exactly what he was planning.

"Let me go," I said and tried to sound as threatening as I could. "I won't hesitate in attacking you. Back off." He's surely already killing everyone… even Mr. Pitcairn. If only I could stop him, if only I was as powerful as Master Kenway.

Sergeant Somerset shook his head and his grip around my arm tightened.

"I can't, those are not my orders," he answered and raised his weapon, aiming the gun barrel at me. "Stay."

I immediately came to a roll, pulling his wounded body after me, and flipped him onto his back. He fired the musket and the bullet barely missed my shoulder. I rose up as quickly as I could and kicked away the rifle, rendering him defenseless. With a loud grunt of pain, he tried to get up on his knees, but I pushed him towards the ground with my right foot.

"Now please, keep quiet and stop getting in my way," I said, even scaring myself how cold and emotionless I sounded. "I don't care about my sister; what I care so far, she can burn in hell."

I don't believe it, she can't be alive, I thought and stiffly walked away from the sergeant. He was clawing at the ground and making loud groans, but he couldn't get up. He's lying, he must be… but then, who told him about my sister? So far as I know, I never told anyone but my aunt and…

"Please…"

Sergeant Somerset slowly turned his face towards me and his emerald-green eyes were sorrowful but serious.

"Melissa, listen to me, I'm sorry for all this but—"

"Major Pitcairn!"

Private Addison.

My instincts took over and I charged towards the main area of the camp. Hurrying down the slope, I almost slipped over some horse feces, but I instantly regained my balance and slid under a fence. The scene in front of me was horrifying beyond measure.

It wasn't the smell. It wasn't the dying men or their vain attempts at trying to fight the Assassin. It wasn't the blood covering the ground around him, or his spotless clothes. Neither was it his stern, hazelnut-colored gaze nor his soaked weapons.

It was the fact that no matter how much I wanted to deny it, how much I tried to push it away from me – how much I forced myself to believe else – I was allured by him and saw him as a good man. He was so immensely powerful and invincible in close quarters, completely outstanding in combat, and where he stood in front of me, he looked stunningly attractive.

And that's what scared me the most. Because no matter what my mind imagined – no matter what past the two of us had shared – the truth was harsh: he was a murderer but not just an ordinary killer – he was an Assassin, an enemy of the Templars and therefore an enemy of mine, someone who needed to be dealt with. Soon.

Sharp blades protruded from the inner side of his forearm protection and dark drops of sanguine liquid fell towards the grass underneath his feet. With a metallic sound and a smooth movement of his hands, the shiny steel disappeared into his clothes. None of us had said anything or even made a sound, but it wasn't necessary. We were like two different animals, analyzing its opponent to see whether he or she would make a move or not. I broke the silence first.

"Did you kill everyone?"

To my surprise, I sounded neutral and my voice held.

"Not everyone."

He's joking, I understood and was shocked. How could someone be joking just after killing so many people?

But wasn't that what your teacher did the day after the massacre in Boston? That winter night where so many men, women, children died. You said you would never forget it but you did, right Melissa?

I angrily brushed the thought aside and took a step closer to him.

"What are you trying to do?" I demanded to know not realizing until now that I was unarmed. I ignored the fear bubbling up my chest and continued. He said he wouldn't hurt me… and I believe him. "Why are you targeting the Templars? What's your goal?"

Was I perhaps naïve or foolish when I thought I could ask him whatever I wanted? That it was my right to know everything about him and why he acted like he did. Any normal being would have probably run long time ago, as far away as one could, but here I stood against an Assassin, a true master of death – and I was fearless. I felt safe with him. I don't know how I can explain, but somehow I felt connected with him. My attraction for him was probably a bit immature but I simply couldn't resist him.

"That has nothing to do with you," he quietly replied and bent down over a body. Connor exchanged a couple of words on a strange language and then rose up. "You have to stay out of this, Melissa. This is not a life for you."

I looked at the lifeless body of Mr. Pitcairn and froze. The elderly Templar's face was ashen and his expression was of disappointment.

"Who are you to tell me what I'm to do?" I exclaimed and watched as he hid a letter inside his uniform jacket. "You know nothing of me."

The Assassin sighed but a little smile curved the left corner of his mouth upwards. He pulled his hood higher over his head and hid his eyes completely.

"That's true," Connor said and turned to me. I tried to distinguish his expression but his face was too shaded. "But you are not my enemy and I don't kill innocents."

"These soldiers are innocent," I stubbornly answered and gestured around me. "Murderers like you and I are the monsters in this world."

He shook his head and adjusted his leather gloves.

"Wrong, I'm killing for the greater good." Connor paused and approached a nearby corpse. He picked up his tomahawk and sheathed at his side. "We've been through this already. I must protect my people… and have my revenge."

With those words, he took off into the forest and I saw him vaulting over a large rock before vanishing from my view. I didn't even bother trying to follow him; my attempts would be in vain and probably just amuse him. I sighed heavily and my eyes filled with tears of frustration.

So much happening... I need someone to talk to – it feels like my head is going to explode – I need— My eyes widened as I realized what I was missing, or rather who. I need Alex. I need him. I can't do this all alone.

I hadn't even noticed when I fell to my knees. Damp, muddy grass mixed with blood and intestines etched onto my borrowed clothes but it didn't bother me at all compared to how problematic my life was for the moment. It felt like wherever I went, Death came stalking and took away everyone around me. If only Death wasn't so bloody marvelous at fighting and so handsome, I might have been able to handle it but this just urged me across the line. I felt like I was crumbling inside; I couldn't stop Connor from killing all these people with neither proper words nor resistance and it was like torture to endure and watch so many good men die. And still a little voice inside of my head told me that he was right in his own perspective, as the Templars did the same. Everything created more and more confusing thoughts and questions, making me so torn. Who was right? And who was wrong?

I guess we will see at the end of this spectacle, I thought and suddenly grinned. When every secret is revealed and I, I may finally see the truth. Let's hope I survive until then.

A/E.N:

Slightly darker Melissa, I know, but I wanna make her become more mature now. She's fifteen at this chapter, growing up in a too harsh of a reality. I know that some of you guys may think she's a bit too "old" and has been all the while, but think about it: her life is a mirroring of Connor and nobody thinks of that :3