I am so sorry for the wait, college is a bitch. I swear, people think art school is a breeze just because we "paint all day". Yeah right. Try nine hours of class and five hours of homework every day, then see if your body and eyelids aren't aching too much to talk. Anyways, sorry for the rant, please enjoy the beginning of a new mission for Connor and Neela! I do not own AC3 (I wish I owned Connor though...)

Obnoxious

Boston had changed. Since I left, things in the city had grown progressively worse. There were guards on every street, and riots plagued the docks and squares. I could literally feel the disquiet in the air. What had once been a town filled with the comforting sounds of everyday life now buzzed with anger and hatred. It was a startling transition.

It felt like only yesterday I was here, shopping for father's dinners and making trouble with Finley. At that time the streets, whilst still full of discontent, were lively and active with things being done, people going and coming. But now almost every window was shut tight, there wasn't a soul in the crowd who didn't wear a scowl on their face or shift their eyes nervously.

Every now and then I caught sight of someone I knew in the crowds through the confines of my hood. I kept waiting for someone to recognize me, to acknowledge me, but no one ever did. Perhaps it was the outfit that camouflaged me, or maybe it was the lessons I had learned in blending with a scene, but still it was shocking when I came within inches of my friend Abigail and she still did not notice me.

I had not spoken a word on the way to the city, so occupied was my mind on the subject of James' letter and my observations of the state of the city. Normally, I would have chatted away at Connor as we rode into town on our horses, but I could not find it in me to fake a smile and keep up a conversation. So I kept quiet. And Connor, being the seldom speaker that he was, did not initiate a conversation either. It was all I could do to keep my face looking pleasant instead of reverting to the crying mess it wanted to be.

I wanted so badly to tell Connor of the letter, to tell him how terribly scared I was, but I knew that I couldn't. This was something I had to bare alone, if I wanted no one to get hurt. Knowing James, he would lay some sort of trap for me, and if I told Connor, he would be caught in it. And even if he didn't, who was to say what would happen if James knew I had not come alone as specified? He could very well just kill off whichever loved one of mine he held hostage and get another one, on and on until no one remained. The thought conjured a nauseating image of everyone I knew piled up in a limp mound surrounded by a pool of blood, their eyes glazed and unseeing. I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen.

So I stayed quiet, different scenarios of meeting James again playing insufferably through my mind, each one more horrid than the last.

We arrived in a part of town that I rarely visited, even while I still lived in Boston. We tethered our horses to a wooden post outside of a general's store across the street from our destination, an unassuming black door with the name "Revere" etched into a gold nameplate on its surface. The sun had just begun its descent over the rooftops of the houses when we arrived, and in the distance, I could hear the shouting of one of the many riots.

Connor led the way to the door, me following behind him in the same trance I had been in all the way here. I was so immersed in my own head that I didn't even notice Connor pause outside of the door. I just kept walking, not really looking where I was going, until I plowed into his back. I blinked out of my daze to find him towering over me with his arms crossed over his chest. His amber eyes looked down at me through the shadow cast by his hood. I took a step back.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked bluntly. My eyes shifted nervously. I had not expected him to notice my state, let alone ask about it.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at the space beside his head. His beautiful golden brown eyes watched as I played nervously with my fingers.

"You know perfectly well what I mean. Ever since you came back from the house you have been so silent that the crickets speak in your place. What has happened?" He asked. Curse him for being so observant. I was counting on him to not notice my uncharacteristic silence, but apparently he knew more of my personality than I thought. I looked at my feet, not having the courage to look into his eyes.

"Nothing has happened. I am perfectly fine." I said. Even to my own ears I sounded insincere. Connor stepped forward so he was half a foot away. My heart beat louder at the proximity, rather a force of habit by now, though I could not tell at this moment whether my reaction to him was due to my crush or my panic. I could feel my cheeks heat up and I swallowed heavily to wet my suddenly dry throat.

"You are lying. Tell me what is bothering you." He said, his voice demanding compliance. I dared not disobey that tone. I searched for a way to tell him what happened in a manner that would not arouse suspicion, as I knew I could not lie outright to his face. He was too perceptive for that. I took a deep breath and looked up into his scrutinizing eyes, willing myself into being believable.

"Someone sent a rather displeased letter to the Potions Witch. They demanded I meet with them." I said. Not even Connor could deny the ring of truth my voice had, even if it was only a half truth. He knew I took my business very seriously, and it would be cause enough for my behavior if one of my clients were displeased with my medicine.

"Who was it?" He asked, still not entirely believing me, but with less conviction than before. I shook my head.

"There was no name on the envelope, but I believe I know who it was based on the content." I told him. This was also true, even though he thought I was talking about a completely different subject. He nodded, seeming to go along with my story. He wouldn't ask for a name, since it would do him no good to know it. He would just have to make do with this explanation. But still I felt bad for lying to him, so I plastered a reassuring smile on my face.

"Don't worry Connor, I'm perfectly fine. Let's just get this over with." I told him. He looked undecided at whether he should drop the subject, but nodded reluctantly after a moment. I sighed quietly in relief when he turned around and stepped up to the door.

I stood close behind him, the smile dropping from my face as I took on the task of being a shadow. He opened the door into a candle lit room. Inside were a group of three men, nonchalantly having tea and looking as if there wasn't any reason for us to be there other than for a nice visit. The man pouring the tea, a heavy set man in a three-point hat and a green coat, set the kettle down at our entrance. I assumed him to be Paul Revere, the man who had sent us the letter.

I had to say, this scene was not what I'd been expecting. I don't know what I had been expecting, maybe John Pitcairn chained in the corner, but not a few men having tea. The letter had made it seem as if John Pitcairn was here.

"Ah, Connor! What a relief! You came!" Paul Revere exclaimed, opening his arms wide as if greeting an old friend. I instantly had an aversion to the man. There was just something about him that was...annoying? No, there was a perfect word for this man, I just couldn't think of it. Connor didn't seem to like him much either. Revere reached out to grab Connor's arm in a much too friendly manner.

"Allow me to introduce you to..." Connor pulled away from the man's unwelcome touch. The man laughed awkwardly, as if he was trying to make it seem as if it were a joke, and continued, "to introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman." The two men stood up and nodded when their names were said. I had no qualms with them, plain and forgettable as they were, but something about this first man just made me want to step out from behind Connor and punch him in the mouth for some reason. I tried hard to think of the word that suited the man while remaining diligently behind Connor as he walked forward.

"You said John Pitcairn would be here." Connor said, obviously annoyed at having been misled. I was annoyed as well, but less with the situation and more with the man.

"Aye. He's readying an assault on Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter." He said as he closed the door behind us, obviously not having seen me yet. "After that, he will march on Concord, hoping to destroy our weapons and supplies. You must help us." He said, as if it were implied that we would. My eyebrow twitched. I could now understand why Connor was so reluctant to accept this request in the first place.

"Only tell me where to find him, and I will put a stop to this." Connor said, determination ringing in his voice. I had no doubt that he would, but not as a favor to this bafoon. He had been speaking of nothing else since he had retrieved that letter off of Johnson.

"He has dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers at his command. You can not hope to match him by yourself." He said as he paced away. I stepped out from behind Connor, startling the two men in their seats. I wanted to show that Connor had backup, but I was apparently too good at my job if no one had noticed me standing in the room until now. Connor looked down at me, questioning why I had changed position. Revere turned around and gave a startled yelp at my seemingly sudden appearance.

"Pardon me, young lady. I did not see you come in." He said, holding a hand to his heart. I nodded half heartedly.

"I have been here the whole time." I stated matter of fact. These people must have the observational skills of a pig for them not to notice me, or so I'd thought. He looked completely startled to hear me say this.

"This is Neela Briar. She is my partner. " Connor said offhandedly, eager to get back to the matter at hand. I kept my face steady though I wanted to smile and puff out my chest in pride at my title. It was the first time he'd addressed me as such. Revere seemed to recover a bit, removing his hand from his chest and letting it dangle at his side.

"Well, Ms. Briar, it is a pleasure to meet you. However, the fact still remains that even with this...addition (he said the word as if he were skeptical of my importance, the tone made me grind my teeth in annoyance), you still cannot overcome such a great number of men (emphasis on the word 'men', chauvinistic ass) by yourselves. But fear not-" he said confidently, and I scoffed at the thought of Connor fearing anything, "for you will not have to. We have an entire army of our own, merely awaiting the order to take up arms." Was it just me or did he sound like a braggart? I really did not care for this man. Connor, I could tell, was loosing his patience. He stepped up to Revere, trying to convey the importance of his words.

"Then you must call upon them." He said sternly, with an underlying tone of exasperation. The other man, however, seemed oblivious to his seriousness. He put his hand on Connor's shoulder, obviously not receiving the "do not touch me" aura surrounding the burly Native.

"Indeed, you and I will cross the Charles River and rouse the boys." He said in a chipper voice. Connor stared at the hand on his shoulder in annoyance until he was released. This Paul Revere must not have any regard for his own life span, for surely it would be cut short if he did not stop acting so overly friendly. He walked over to one of the men drinking tea.

"William, I need you to take the overland route and do the same." The man got up to leave the room while Revere addressed the other man. "Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal. Two lanterns, the enemy comes by sea!" He said as he led the two men out the door. He walked over to Connor and again placed his hand on his shoulder. Obviously Connor had had enough and removed the hand, gripping it sharply at the wrist. If I hadn't been so annoyed with the man, I would have laughed.

"No time for dawdling my friends, we have lives to save. Come on!" Revere said self importantly, ignoring Connor's rejection. I gave Connor an exasperated look as the man walked confidently out the door. Connor did not return it, but I knew he saw it out of the corner of his eye as he looked at the man's back as he waltzed out the door.

I had thought of the perfect word to describe Paul Revere.

"Obnoxious." I whispered to myself. Connor's mouth twitched up in agreement.

Hope all you lovelies enjoyed my take on Paul Revere! Goodness he is so annoying. And he's only going to get worse. Sorry that this chapter was so short, it was really more of a filler chapter than anything. I needed something to integrate you guys back into the story arc. Next time, I promise, you will be seeing some more action, humor, and anxty emotions. Although I can't guarantee when the next chapter will come because of freaking college. As always, your reviews are my life source, so keep em' coming!