I do not own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters.
Raided
He narrowed his eyes as he watched the men walk. One of the two was heavyset with long, messy, greasy brown hair and a bushy beard wearing an expensive suit that had been tailored to fit over his excessive stomach, while the other was a tall man with neatly-combed brown hair, an immaculate tuxedo, and the bearing of a man who was used to winning fights with minimal effort. He snorted as the man glanced around the alleyway he and his companion were passing through. Then, he reached down beside himself, lifting up a rifle, and checked the ammunition before sighting in. A moment later, two soft reports echoed through the rifle's suppressor and a pair of subsonic rounds punched through the two men's heads, killing them both. The shooter nodded to himself, turning and heading back inside. As he walked, he disassembled the weapon, dropping individual pieces into trashcans as he walked. Finally, he walked out of the building and into the darkened street. He passed under a street lamp three seats later, the light illuminating his black, hooded, zip-up sweatshirt with silver over the shoulders, his black EMS pants, his black-and-white, High-top Converse All Stars, and his black tactical gloves with black, Kevlar knuckles. His hood was pulled up, a thick strip of silver running down the center of the hood to where the shoulders' silver wrapped across the back of his shoulders and upper back. He walked quickly, only to stop as his watch beeped. He raised it, tapping it twice so that the face lit up with a flashing, red alert.
The light illuminated his short, dark hair cut into a neat fade, his dark eyes, and his cleanly-faded face, currently set into a deep scowl. He turned, stalking over to a motorcycle sitting on the side of the road. He swung a leg over it, then pulled a pair of small, metal sticks from his pocket, jammed them carelessly into the ignition of the motorbike, and turned it, then pressed the choke and kicked-started the motorcycle. It roared to life and he shifted it into gear, racing off down the road. He wound and wove through the streets in a black blur, taking corners too sharply, speeding through intersections, dodging the small amount of traffic on the roads. Finally, after twenty minutes, he skidded to a stop in front of an unassuming storefront with the words, "A TO B GENERAL" hanging crooked over its entrance in burned-out neon. He walked to the smashed-in front door, then through the ruined shop to the broken section of wall in the back, revealing a staircase heading underground. He walked down the stairway in silence, reaching the basement after a couple of minutes, where a single, wiry man was piling the relics hidden in the room in one arm like logs. The shooter cleared his throat, and the man spun, dropping the artifacts.
"Who are you!?" the thief demanded.
"Michael," the shooter said simply, then drew a Colt 1911 from the back of his waist, firing a single round into the thief's head before holstering the pistol again.
He walked over to the artifacts the thief had stolen and knelt, humming thoughtfully. The first he lifted a weapon about two feet long, a foot and a half being a black, gilded shaft with the back end decorated by a silver eagle's head with gold highlights. The other end of the weapon was a six-inch, double-edged spear head. He slipped it under his sweatshirt in the back, slipping it into a ring holster he'd gotten with it. The next weapon he picked up was a dagger that bordered on a shortsword called the Yngling Seax. It was single-edged, had Norse runes carved into the blades, a faded, blue wrapping around the hilt, and a carved, bronze eagle's head for a pommel, much like the back end of the spear. The third weapon was a tomahawk. The head of the axe was open, a small, triangular blade stuck out to the back of the tomahawk, and the wooden hilt was in as good a condition now as when it had been wielded in the Civil War. The only thing missing was that there had once been a string with a feather attached, but the thief had ripped that off in his haste to gather the weapons.
The next artifact was a long, black cane with four inches of decorative silver on the bottom end, and a silver eagle's head decorating the top. The cane appeared normal, but the silver along the bottom concealed a curved, sickle-like blade four inches long, and the eagle head was attached to a thin, double-edged, eight inch blade with the sides decorated as extravagantly as the bottom of the cane. The last object was a short bow, only about two and a half feet long, but his favorite thing about the bow was that it was able to collapse into four sections, which could be bound together with the bowstring.
He slipped the collapsed bow into one of his pockets, slipping the huge dagger up his left sleeve, the tomahawk being hidden in back, beside the spear. Then, he reached over to where a quiver lay abandoned in the case the bow was meant to be in. Each case was custom designed to be able to withstand an explosion, but all had been cut open. Michael spotted what looked like a pen with the tip replaced by several lenses. He didn't even need to pick it up to know it was a laser cutter. Abstergo's newest invention.
He hummed thoughtfully as he walked back up to the store, the quiver hanging from one hand and the cane spinning in his other. Five weapons. There had been twenty. He would have to track down the other thieves. He narrowed his eyes. Templers had stolen his entire armory. Ancient weapons used by Assassins all through the Assassin-Templar war, all the way back to the first Assassin. He had to find them all. And that meant he had to pay Abstergo a visit.
He walked out of the store and sat on the stolen bike, pinning the cane under his leg. He couldn't get in alone. He sighed. He hadn't wanted to have to go back to them, but he didn't have a choice. He'd need them both. One's skills in combat, one's hacking skills. He had never wanted to have to see either again. It was a messy part of his history he hadn't wanted to return to. However, now he had no choice. He needed their help, so he settled in for a very long ride.
Michael sighed as he rolled to a stop outside the safehouse where they should be staying. It had been a long time since he'd spoken to them, but he'd kept tabs on them. He stared at the motorcycle for another moment before sighing, stepping off of the bike, swinging the cane once before trapping it under his arm. If he knew them, he'd probably need it as soon as he opened the door.
He walked into the safehouse's front door and frowned. Unlocked. It was never unlocked. He made his way silently up the stairs. The building was designed for defence. Four floors of stairs with no elevator, no side rooms on any of the lower floors, and only one large room, except a separated bathroom, on the top floor. He narrowed his eyes as he approached the trap door into the main safehouse. He reached up, testing the handle. It groaned loudly as it turned, but once again, it was unlocked. He turned it the rest of the way, then pushed up, forcing the heavy door open. He lifted himself up, looking around. The safehouse looked alright, but it had been cleared out. All of the gear was missing, all the weapons were gone, and there was no one in sight.
"Fuck," Michael sighed. "Just my luck. I missed them leaving. Must have been while I was driving over."
He climbed up into the safehouse, then walked around it, looking around. He searched everywhere for any sign of where they'd gone, but as expected, they'd left nothing. Finally, he sat down in an arm chair, leaning back with the cane sword across his lap. He rested a fist against his cheek, tapping his other index finger on the arm of the chair, thinking. They woyldn't have left so abruptly as to leave a cup of coffee on the counter in the corner kitchen if they'd had tims to plan and prepare. Which meant they had left in a hurry. Either for a time-sensitive job, or because they were expecting guests. If they were expecting guests, he could wait and greet the guests for them, or he could possibly force the guests to figure out where they had gone for him.
He nodded, settling in to wait. Slowly, seconds turned into minutes which bled into hours. Then, finally, the trapdoor groaned open, early in the dark hours of the morning. Someone hissed out a curse, and Michael stood, resting the end of his cane on the floor in front of himself with a sharp tick. The person that had just climbed through the trap door jumped, spinning toward him and shining a flashlight. Michael squinted, turning his head slightly.
"Care to shut the light off, friend?" Michael asked. "It's a little bright."
"Who are you?" the man demanded as more and more began to climb up into the safehouse, all of them armed with small, easily concealed bladed weapons or steel batons.
"Abstergo Security, eh?" Michael asked. "Now, isn't that interesting?"
"I won't ask again!" the guard who'd been through first snapped, electricity jumping along his baton.
"That looks illegal," Michael noted. "What're you running, a hundred milliamps?"
"Four," the guard warned. "So for the last time-"
"I'm looking for our mutual friends who live here," Michael finally answered. "I'm afraid, however, we both seem to have missed them."
The guard narrowed his eyes. "What do you want with them?"
"I have a few questions for them," Michael shrugged. "You?"
The guard shifted slightly, one of them kicking the trap door closed. "I think you're lying to me. I think we should ask you a little less politely."
Michael sighed. "And here I was using my manners." He reached out with the cane, resting the silver head against the still-electrified stun baton. "Don't make me show you boys some hospitality."
The guards all stared at him as the electricity from the baton arced along the cane and into Michael's hand, doing absolutely nothing.
"What are you?" the guard almost whimpered, seeming to understand he'd be the first to die.
"Me?" Michael asked, smiling pleasantly. "I'm an Assassin."
"Oh, shit!" one of the other guards swore, just as Michael stepped forward, driving the head of his cane into the first guard's throat so hard that his windpipe was crushed instantly.
Michael flipped the cane around to himself, freeing the blade from the top before tapping the base sharply on the ground, the sickle-like blade at the base popping out. One of the guards lunged, stabbing at him with a large knife, only for Michael to knock his hand aside with the cane, spinning and slashing the side of his throat with his cane-sword's blade. As he continued to twirl, he drove the cane's sickle blade into the side of the next guard's neck and released it, ducking under another's guard's baton before slashing the eye of his elbow, then stabbed him twice in the chest before slashing his throat and turning. He ripped the cane's blade out of the other guard's throat before twirling and slamming the cane into a guard's jaw, knocking him to the side into a baton, the electricity immediately stopping his heart. The guard that had been holding the baton dropped it at once, and Michael tapped the cane on the ground again, the sickle blade concealing itself before he returned the detachable blade to the head of the cane and securing it before hooking the head of the cane around a guard's foot just as he moved to step forward. Michael yanked the foot forward, and the guard fell into a split, shrieking in pain and falling sideways before Michael drew the tomahawk from his back. A guard lunged, pulling a baton back for an overhead strike, but Michael jabbed the head of the cane into the guard's elbow, stopping him from striking before slamming the tomahawk into the side of the guard's neck, then ripped it out and hurled it into another guard's chest. As he fell, Michael turned, droving the base of the cane into a guard's mouth as he yelled, then reached back and pulled the Spear of Leonidas from his back, spinning and pulling the cane away as his spear slashed the guard's throat. A guard caught the spear mid-spin, and Michael instantly released it, kicking the guard backward as the Yngling Seax fell from his sleeve. He stepped forward, stabbing the guard in the throat, then slashing out through the side of his neck. He turned to fight the others, only to dodge backward, making himself skinny as a guard slashed with a bowie knife. It breezed past his stomach, and Michael stepped forward again, driving the Yngling Seax into the guard's abdomen.
He turned, once again leaving the knife behind. As he turned, a guard swung hard with his baton, and Michael blocked it with his forearm, once again unharmed by the electricity as he drove the spear into the guard's abdomen. He ripped it out, only for a guard to grab his arm and spin, hurling him, the spear clattering away. Michael landed in a roll and regained his feet, narrowing his eyes.
"So, that's how this is going to be, huh?" Michael asked, staring at the dozen or so guards still alive.
"Now what're you gonna do, Assassin?" the guard who'd thrown him asked, pulling out a second stun baton.
"Oh, probably kill you," Michael smirked, extending a Hidden Blade from his right forearm, drawing his pistol with his left hand.
He immediately shot the guard in the face, then another before one lunged at him. He spun, deflecting the swipe and drove his Hidden Blade into the guard's throat, then spun, shooting two more in the face before ripping the blade free and ducking under a stun baton. He drove the barrel of his gun into a guard's face, slashing his throat, then fired a pair of shots into a guard's ballistic vest, knocking him backward into another before firing a shot through one's head into the other, killing both. A guard slashed at him with a knife, and he ducked under it, blocking the return swipe with his right arm, and fired his last shot into the guard's foot before grabbing the man with both hands and spun, hurling him into three more. As he spun, slamming the pistol's grip into the side of a guard's head, then slashed the side of his throat, the trap door burst open, a hand grabbing a guard's leg and yanking, pulling him to the floor before the new arrival all but leapt onto his back, driving a knife into the side of his neck and pulled it out again, hurling it to the side into another guard's back. Michael drove the barrel of his pistol into a guard's eye and released it, extending his left arm's Hidden Blade into the guard's throat before spinning, slashing back out as he slashed another throat mid-spin. The new arrival tripped a guard and broke their neck, then ripped the Yngling Seax from the corpse it was still in, slashing a guard across the back with it, severing their spine. She flipped the cane up to herself, promptly tapping it on the ground to extend the sickle blade and spun, driving it into a guard's side before stepping forward as she ripped it out and slashing their throat. The last three guards looked between the two before turning on the new arrival. Before they could attack her, however, Michael drove his Hidden Blades into two of their heads and the new arrival hurled the Yngling Sex into the other's chest. As he staggered back, Michael retracted his blades and ripped the blade out the guard's chest, allowing him to collapse.
"Emma," Michael greeted his new arrival, who wiped some of the blood from her face and blonde hair, then wiped it onto her tight, white sweatshirt and pale blue skinny jeans.
"Michael," Emma nodded. "What're you doing here?"
"Oh, you know, keeping your guests entertained for you," Michael said casually, picking up the Spear of Leonidas, then ripping the tomahawk free of its victim as well.
"I appreciate it, but did you really need to trash my place so bad?" Emma asked.
Michael shrugged. "I blame the guests. They were a little rowdy."
Emma rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Michael? And what are those doing out of your armory?"
"See, that's the thing," Michael said. "These are all that were left after the Templars broke in."
"The Templars?" Emma blinked. "You got robbed by the Templars? How?"
"I'd assume there was a snitch," Michael said. "Even among Assassins, I was only known by a few, and even fewer knew about my occupation. How's your sister?"
"Lucy...Lucy's dead, Michael," Emma said.
"She...what?" Michael asked.
"She was in deep cover within Abstergo for so long, she turned traitor to the Templars," Emma said. "We found out when an Isu possessed Desmond and killed her."
Michael's face sank, but he nodded, wiping any emotion from it. "I see. Maybe she was the one to sell me out."
"Maybe," Emma admitted. "But I doubt it. Even after everything that happened with you two, she still loved you. Even as a traitor, I don't think she'd have sold you out. I'm not convinced she'd have betrayed Desmond, either, but the Isu who possessed him was even worse the Templars."
Michael nodded. "Where's your cell?"
"We're here," another feminine voice said, the other two current members of Emma's cell entered, coincidentally also members of Lucy's former cell.
The only other female, Rebecca Crane entered, wearing an orange sweatshirt with white sleeves, long black hair, a white beanie cap, and jeans. Behind her came the male member of the cell, Shaun Hastings. He was British, had neat, dirty blonde hair gelled upward, glasses, slacks, nice shoes, and a button-up shirt and tie under a beige sweater vest.
"Hey, Michael," Rebecca greeted him. "Long time, no see. You remember Shaun, my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?" Michael raised an eyebrow. "About time."
"Yeah, yeah," Rebecca rolled her eyes. "So, you got hit, huh?"
"Yeah," Michael nodded. "I was hoping I could rely on you and Lucy's help, but it seems I'll have to make due with Emma."
"All this sweet talk's going to get me crying," Emma said sarcastically, beginning to clean off the Yngling Seax and the cane sword's blades with a damp washcloth, tossing two more to Michael, who began to clean all of the blades he had.
"Sorry to be honest, but Lucy was always the better fighter of you two, Emma," Michael said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but don't forget, you never beat me, Michael," Emma countered.
Michael opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. She was right. In every fight they'd ever had, both training and out of anger, he'd always lost. And there had been many fights. When he'd been with Lucy, the two of them had fought nearly every day. It had been the closest he'd ever been to having a sibling, but he had fucked that up, as he had fucked up everything. He really wished he hadn't had to see Emma. Even Lucy would have been a better option.
"What's the plan?" Rebecca asked to break the silence.
"Break into Abstergo and find my weapons before they get sent out to be used against Assassins," Michael said.
"Do you have any idea how bad an idea that is?" Emma asked. "There are thousands of guards in Abstergo. And we don't even know if they have the weapons there! We could be fighting an army for nothing!"
"You have a better idea?" Michael asked.
"I'll hack into their systems," Rebecca offered. "But I can't promise anything."
"Yeah, I doubt they'll have 'We stole the Assassin weapons and put them in this room' anywhere in their systems," Michael said. "But yes, that was the first step of my plan."
"Oh, yeah, smartass?" Emma challenged. "And then what happens when we don't find that?"
"I'm expecting Rebecca will be able to hack security cameras and be able to look around in their building and find the weapons in a storage room," Michael answered, Rebecca nodding. "And if she can't find them there, then we'll locate the higherups inside of the building and go and ask them about it."
"This is a stupid idea," Shaun accused.
"Thank you!" Emma groaned.
"I think it could work," Rebecca shrugged.
"Thank you," Michael nodded.
"Are you serious?" Shaun asked. "You think anything about this is a good idea? For all we know, he could be a Templar spy! Maybe he stole the weapons, but was only allowed to keep a few, and now he just wants the others, too!"
"Michael's not like that!" Rebecca argued. "Michael's one of the best people I know!"
Emma snorted. "Still carrying that torch for him, huh?"
"Excuse me?" Shaun asked.
"Oh, I suppose you never heard about it," Emma said. "See, the whole reason that he and my sister split up was because he cheated on her with Rebecca. And you're all so concerned about who may or may not be a Templar spy, but none of you have even considered that maybe those Abstergo implants of his have just been constantly transmitting data to Abstergo and that's how they knew where his armory was."
"I'm sorry, Abstergo implants?" Shaun asked.
Michael sighed, pulling his gloves off and pulling up his sleeves. As he did, he exposed a pair of prosthetic limbs. Shaun stared in surprise as Michael demonstrated the efficiency and effectiveness of the limbs, both of which functioned as perfectly as if they were his natural arms.
"What the fuck?" Shaun asked.
"Abstergo had me as a prisoner for a while," Michael said. "They wanted to use my genetic memory to try and track down a Sword of Eden they thought one of my ancestors wielded, but instead, the Animus they stuck me in malfunctioned. There was a fire, and both of my arms and my chest cavity were ruined. They decided they might still need me, so they reconstructed me. Complete, prototype, prosthetic arms up to the shoulders, bones, artificial organs in my torso. The prosthetics have enough electricity dampeners and electrical insulation to withstand almost a full amp of electricity. I'd get a nasty shock from anything about half an amp or more, but I wouldn't die until about an amp. My arms are strong enough to bench press six hundred pounds and can curl about a hundred fifty. But, as Emma insinuated, they were also full of Abstergo's tracking software. So, once I escaped, I went to Rebecca, who removed the tracking devices and disabled the programming for them to track me for good measure. Then she upgraded the arms with a couple of extras I picked up as I was leaving." He extended his Hidden Blades from inside of the prosthetics' forearms. "These blades belonged to the ancestor Abstergo was interested in. While I was hooked into the Animus, Abstergo found his corpse and his Hidden Blades, but couldn't find the Sword of Eden they wanted, so they were going to send me back in and were using the Hidden Blades to get a better DNA synchronization. So, I stole them on the way out and had Rebecca install them."
"So...Abstergo turned you into a cyborg?" Shaun asked.
"Yes," Michael nodded. "No, can we get to work? We have a lot to do."
"Yes," Rebecca said. "And no more arguing, you two. We'll have enough to fight without you two fighting each other."
Michael nodded and Emma sighed heavily.
"Fine," Emma growled. "We'll get along."
Rebecca nodded and walked over to a chair, sitting down and opening her laptop, immediately getting to work.
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