Disclaimer - I don't own the Assassin's Creed or Prototype series, they belong to their respective owner.

Home is Where We will Live

March 6th, 1770

Alex was staring at the squad covering the north entrance of Boston from his spot in a shady alley as the biomass on his back and side slowly assimilated the body of two Redcoats. The Runner, in the blink of an eye, relocated himself on the rooftops, leaving the bloody scene behind as he continued observing the blockade with a critical eye. He had a wonderful conversation with the printer who had changed the details of their face slightly and had already eliminated the groups around the entrance, so all that was needed right now was for Ratonhnhaké:ton to appear.

Speak of the devil. Alex glanced at the running teen on the rooftop of the third building next to his position. When Ratonhnhaké:ton was within earshot, Alex tilted his head slightly and stated, 'Everything is fine I suppose.'

The boy nodded, kneeling next to him, and answered, 'Yes. People and soldiers took little notice of me after I have done as you ask.'

'Good, good, good,' the virus muttered as he watched a Redcoat messenger came running to the leader of the squad and leaned forward to hear what they were saying. A small smile was slowly stretched on his lips when he heard the soldiers were ordered to return to one of the fortresses in Boston and abandoned their search on Ratonhnhaké:ton and him.

The Runner waited until the last of the squad was out of the normal human peripheral vision before he gestured to Ratonhnhaké:ton to follow him. Both Natives quickly made their way out of the busy city and began their journey to north.

To Davenport Homestead.

The bonfire crackled loudly in the silent night as Ratonhnhaké:ton fed it some more dry wood, staring intently into the dancing flames. The journey to Homestead was a quiet and slightly unnerving one, because both of them was uncertain on how to proceed with their unanswered questions and the wall between them was getting thicker by second.

The young Native looked over to the man resting on his baggages, he knew the man wasn't asleep and he had his chance to ask about his mother and many other things, but what if the man kept some of the details to himself just like everyone else in his village did after the death of his mother? Ratonhnhaké:ton let out a soundless sigh as he continued feeding the fire and keeping watch of their surrounding. Though he couldn't concentrate on his task and was more occupied with the one single question he wanted to ask above all else. Why did you leave my mother? He had thought of asking how he knew his father and what kind of man his father was, but that man was no father of his, he was a Templar, an enemy to be eliminated. He was an Assassin now, or at least one in-training, and it was his duty to kill Templars and end their plots.

'You know, if you have questions, you can ask.' Ratonhnhaké:ton almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden announcement and his eyes immediately darted to the man who now had his stoic face turned to face him.

Ratonhnhaké:ton ducked his head and hands together, embarrassment coloured his cheek as he uttered a small apology for disturbing his rest. The elder Ratonhnhaké:ton sat up, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other rested on one bended knee, as he said nonchalantly, 'It's alright, child. I wasn't able to sleep to begin with, so I don't mind talking a bit and judging by the look on your face for the past few hours, you have many questions to ask and you want answer for all of them.'

The young man was about to deny it, but seeing the chance presented itself to him, he decided to take a leap of faith and asked the question that had bothered him for three days and one night, 'Why did you leave my mother?'

Silence greeted him as he observed the statue-like perplex expression on his elder before the man answered truthfully, 'Around thirteen years ago, Kanatahséton was threatened by a British Army General named Edward Braddock, the Bulldog. Your mother and I, mostly your mother, fought for our clan. I simply fought to make sure Ziio gets out of the trouble in one piece. It was then that we met yo–I mean Haytham.' The boy gave the man a questioning gaze, but he ignored the sudden halt in his story. 'HE had saved some of the captured villagers and saw it as a favour we owed him. In a way, it is a small favour. We were ignoring his existence for a time, but Haytham was very persistent in finding us, so that we returned the FAVOUR. He told us the reason he had sought us out. He possessed an amulet with the markings from the Sacred Cave near where the village stood.'

'Apparently, there was something important within the cave that he would like to take possession of, but whatever it was, we never knew, because its secret was kept tightly locked and well hidden. Seeing that Haytham came out empty-handed with Ziio. I saw that their relationship had blossomed into something beyond friendship. So I let her go and took my leave, I had entrusted Haytham of her safety. A mistake I have made and a responsibility I have abandoned. I had truly believed that they would have a happy life together. I had even threatened Haytham with a death threat if he ever hurt Ziio in any way. My warning falls on deaf ears and your mother ends up dead,' the older Kanien'kehá:ka recounted with more anger and sadness in his voice. He let out a frustrated sigh before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The teen was stunned by the raw emotions the man was displaying, he half expected him to bottle everything under his indifferent mask and let only a small portion of each emotion out. The shock soon wore off and was replaced by a look of realization and understanding. He really is the protective wolf that guards and cares for those it deemed as its pack. Just as mother has said.

'Is our destination still far?' the elder asked restlessly as he stood up.

'No,' Ratonhnhaké:ton quickly answered as he stood up too. 'It lies just behind those mountains and a cliff.'

The older male looked in the direction where he pointed, nodding determinedly as he picked up his baggages with renewed vigour and announced, 'Good, then let's continue on. Forward!'

'What? Now?' Ratonhnhaké:ton stuttered out, taking a step towards the leaving Native before halting to snuff out the fire by kicking the snow over it. He caught up the adamant man with a few steps. 'We can wait for a few more hours for dawn to rise.'

'No, I need to speak with whoever this Achilles is,' the Native hunter said firmly as he continued moving through the thick snow with a rapid pace that Ratonhnhaké:ton would have thought it was impossible to do with the heavy chest and travel bag on the man. It made him feel like he was a child once more who needed to jump a few steps to catch up to his mother's long steps. 'And then, I will begin looking for your father. WE have a long overdue DISCUSSION to have.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton flinched at the tone near growling the man had as he helpless trotted after his mother's fuming friend. Maybe this quickened pace was a good thing for him too, because he also had something to say to Achilles.

When the sun's face appeared above the high mountains, both Kanien'kehá:kas had arrived in the outskirts of Davenport Homestead. Ratonhnhaké:ton pointed at the distant old mansion and told the elder, 'That's where Achilles lives.'

The man squinted his eyes for a moment before a scowl appeared on his face as he looked over the cliff and spotted a bundle of pine tree branches with their dry leaves intact. The older Ratonhnhaké:ton gestured at the bundle and asked, 'Have you ever jumped into those branches?'

The boy nodded affirmatively and the man asked another question, 'Do you feel the ground after your jump or is there some branches covering it?'

'No, I can still feel them when I land on it,' the young hunter answered.

'Good,' said the man approvingly. 'You jump first, I'll follow.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded and executed a Leap of Faith as Achilles called it, landing safely into the branches that cushioned his fall and quickly left the bundle for the man to take his jump, but instead of the elder, it was his luggage that had taken the jump, landing with a loud thud. The young Native looked at the top of the cliff to see the elder climbing down instead of jumping.

Ratonhnhaké:ton cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, 'Why didn't you just jump?'

'Because it usually ends up with me having a bad back!' the man yelled back as he continued releasing his hold and grabbing another crack or rock underneath, descending a little faster than climbing all the way down.

'Are afraid of heights?' Ratonhnhaké:ton asked incredulously as the man went to retrieve his chest and bag.

'No, I just hate everything that can cushioned my fall,' the elder explained with a huge frown as he slung his bag over his shoulder and tucked the chest under his arm. 'There's only two results from my landing. Either the wagon that holds leaves breaks or I land on my back on solid ground. Both give me a painful back pain. So I never jump and the handful of time I actually did jump, your mother laughed at me, quite loudly may I add.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton's lips was twitching slightly, trying to hold in the laugh or the smile that was about to split his face at the comical agitation in the man's explanation of his aversion towards the Leap of Faith. Despite the fact that the man was glaring at him with an evil eye, the Native boy couldn't resist in chocking out a laugh before it turned into a ceaseless laughter.

The elder's frown deepened as he muttered in annoyance, 'Har di har har, laugh it up.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton stifled his laugh slightly, but his shoulders still shook with mirth as he listened to the man muttering about him being his mother's son and that he should have expected that he would laugh about it. The teen still wore a smile when they arrived at the mansion, forgetting for a short moment that they each had some important matters to discuss with the old Assassin. At least until he was standing at the front door of the mansion.

The Assassin-in-training entered the household, holding the door for his elder before he sought Achilles who was waiting for him in the dining room. When his eyes landed on the calm Assassin who pleasantly greeted him, Ratonhnhaké:ton felt the anger he felt back at Boston surged and said accusingly, 'You left me in Boston!'

'The training we've done here is all well and good, but experience is a better teacher by far,' Achilles explained patiently, annoying the youngster further with his passiveness.

'What of my father?' Ratonhnhaké:ton demanded.

'Into the wind, I'm afraid,' Achilles answered.

The news further displeased the Kanien'kehá:ka as he urgently yelled, 'We have to find him.'

'And we will...' the old Mentor Assassin placated. 'AFTER the house has been repaired.'

'But he's out there plotting who knows what...' the Native boy stated insistingly as he gestured outside to emphasized his point.

'Calm, Ratonhnhaké:ton.' The Assassin-in-training turned to stare at his mother's friend who was leaning on his back against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his face was filled with seriousness. 'While I want to find Haytham as much as you do. Rushing out blindly will not help us and you still require much trainings before your skills stand equal to that of the Templar.'

Achilles frozen on his spot, eyes narrowing at the speaker behind him as he whispered harshly, 'Who is that man, Connor?'

'But if we don't stop him, more people will come to harm,' the Kanien'kehá:ka said to his elder, hoping that he would side with him instead of the old man and ignoring the handicapped man's demands. The elder levelled him a look that told him to listen to him before speaking again, which the teen reluctantly did as he gave the man a nod to let him continued with his reasonings.

'You are still in training, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I know Haytham's skills, I have seen them in action myself and your current equipment and skills are no match against him,' said the older Native and held a hand up before the teen could protest. 'Also, you haven't earn or train with the hidden blades yet. So you are not a true Assassin yet, but when you achieve the title of Master Assassin, I will not hold you back. Until then, you need to continue with your trainings.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton now wore a downcast look as he listened to the reasons and flinched when the man gently, as if he would disappear if he put the slightest force in his touch, placed his hand over his shoulder. He heard a tired sigh before the older Ratonhnhaké:ton promised, 'Any information I find on Haytham or his Templars, you'll be the first person I will inform.'

The boy's mood brightened slightly at the promise before it turned neutral again at the stern voice. 'Only. And ONLY. After you have complete your trainings, shall I deem you ready to face the Templar Order. Do you understand, Ratonhnhaké:ton?'

While the young man wanted to begin searching for his mother's murderers, he knew that he still required many months and years of training to match his father's or even his elder's level of skills. So Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded in agreement to the man's conditions instead of arguing.

The stern face soon melted into one of contentment as the man went to pat his head and this time ruffled his hair, which Ratonhnhaké:ton reacted by pushing the offending hand off of him, but unlike his previous encounters with strangers' touch, he didn't animalistically snarl or silently glare at person and tried to keep himself from ending their lives on the spot. He smiled and the smile on the other grew.

Though their light atmosphere was broken by the old Mentor Assassin who had thwacked the Assassin-in-training with his walking cane as he demanded, louder this time, 'I said. WHO IS THIS MAN, CONNOR?'

The teenager held the throbbing back of his head as he turned to face his mentor and was about to introduce his clan member, but the elder beat him to it and, with a dip from his tricorn hat and left hand over his heart and ring finger folded, presented himself, 'My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, Connor's clan brother, but you may call me Iskandar, Achilles Davenport, Master Assassin of the Colonial Brotherhood.'

'He is also an Assassin, Achilles,' Connor quickly added when he saw doubts clouding the old man's face.

'And what proof does he have that he is an Assassin?' Achilles questioned, not believing in his words. 'Where is his hidden blade, the most important weapon of an Assassin, Connor? Or did you just believe him because he says so?'

Ratonhnhaké:ton frowned at the underlined accusation about his foolishness and the fact that his clan brother could be a spy for the enemy. Protectiveness and anger reached a new level as he hissed out, 'Don't you dare call him a liar, Achilles. He will never be allied with my FATHER or HIS Templars. He has the Assassin's crest tied to his tomahawk.'

Connor jerked back when he felt a calming hand was placed on his shoulder and looked at his elder with a look that told him volumes of his desire to continue arguing with the old man.

'Perhaps it is better if I explain to Achilles,' the older Ratonhnhaké:ton suggested with a charismatic smile. The young Kanien'kehá:ka hesitated for a moment before he reluctantly let the older man talked to Achilles. 'Thank you.'

The old Colonial Assassin continued to stare at the man with suspicion, but the Kanien'kehá:ka was unaffected by the man's stare and kept his confident smile on as he began his explanation. 'As I have said, my Native name is Ratonhnhaké:ton just like as Connor's and my English one is Iskandar. I am part of your apprentice's Mohawk clan living in the Frontier. Fourteen years ago, I have decided to explore the outside world and went to England, where I have met the Assassins and befriended them. Later I have join the Assassin's Order. I am one one of the few Assassins having survive the purge in London and I have sought refuge in neighbouring countries until I have collected enough money to journey back to here. As for the reason why I don't have a hidden blade, it was damaged beyond repair during an ambush by the Templars. My main reasons for coming back are to see my friends, Kaniehtí:io and Haytham Kenway.' The frown deepened on the old man's face. 'My fellow Assassins deemed the information of Kenway being a Templar to be sensitive, which I have discovered after the purge. Though I only intend to meet Haytham as a friend, not an Assassin. I...'

Ratonhnhaké:ton glanced Connor, silently asking if he should continue. The young Assassin nodded, giving permission to his elder to continue. 'I have only recently discovered Haytham's betrayal and Ziio's death from Connor. This information brings both personal and duty reasons here. For now, I am not certain it is in my best interest to hunt down the Templars who had any connection with Kenway. So I would like to aid Connor in his trainings towards the rank of Master Assassin, Mentor Achilles Davenport.'

Connor looked at Achilles expectantly, hoping that the old man would allow Ratonhnhaké:ton to train him. Not that his trainings with Achilles was a problem, but he truly wished to study under his elder who at least understood part of the reasons why he wanted to become an Assassin and their goal was more or less mutual.

The old Assassin's eyes roamed from one Native to the other before he let out a tired sigh and took a wooden box on the table that bore the Assassin's symbol. He looked at Connor with a serious face as he handed him the box and said dejectedly, 'Then you are going to need THESE for the battles against the Templars.'

The Native boy arched an eyebrow at the Assassin's words before he opened the box and what lay inside had rendered him completely speechless. Two well-kept and polished hidden blades. He looked between the content of the box and Achilles, feeling a smile making its way on his lips. Connor had thought that the old man would take another year before he was allowed to wield these weapons.

'Go on,' said Achilles as he shifted on his seat with his black hat hiding his face. 'Before I change my mind.'

Connor hurriedly strapped the weapons on and a great sense pride washed over him as he admired them. He looked over his shoulder to see Ratonhnhaké:ton, still leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed, with a proud and a bit fatherly-like smile on him. It was a perfect and memorable moment in his life.

And reality returned by a few muffled knocks.

While Alex was smiling on the outside, he was scowling on the inside at the Assassins. In an indirectly and totally impulsive way, he had stepped into this eternal war and the Assassins behind his mental doors were worse than ever with their constant naggings. It was the Fourth of July in there, many of them were reminiscing their own trainings like old veterans and some were planning and reporting the best courses of training for the Native boy. The only one who was actually quiet in there was Assassin who remained a mute in his hive mind. Alex wanted the rest of the London Brotherhood to shut up for a second, so that he could form his own timetable for Ratonhnhaké:ton's trainings and his own manhunting.

I need a distraction or I'll tear something pieces. Alex thought miserably while he kept his smiling poker face on. Not that it wasn't genuine, he was sincerely proud of the fact that the old Mentor Assassin gave the boy the hidden blades and Ratonhnhaké:ton's prideful smile, but with the non-stop talking in the back of his mind, a simple smile was a little difficult to maintain.

As if God, for once that cruel bastard actually listened, heard his wish, a few knocks on the window and a muffled cry for help sounded outside, drawing the house's occupants to stare out of the window to see a bearded man hammering the glass in panic. Ratonhnhaké:ton was the first to act as he went outside with him following, it was better than staying in the house and faced the old man's, bordering creepy, stare.

'You! Sir, please! Help! He's going to die!' the stranger shouted them hurriedly, but he quickly turned and began moving away. 'There's no time! Please come!'

Ratonhnhaké:ton, with question, followed the man while Alex took a small second, or seconds, of hesitation, because saving people wasn't his forte. The last (three?) times he did, he got slapped by Greene, he fought MOTHER to rescue his sister and he got caught in a nuclear explosion to save Manhattan. So it was not possible for him NOT to hesitate in saving someone's life. Still, he better keep an eye on the boy.

All three of them began running, but as they approached the river, Alex was mentally chanting a mantra. Please tell me that we are not heading towards the river!

Alex mentally groaned when they reached the shore. We are...

'Down there! He's just passed under the bridge!' the stranger shouted urgently as he pointed a redhead holding onto a lumber while shouting for help and the fact that he couldn't swim.

Alex caught Ratonhnhaké:ton's shirt before the boy jumped into the water and quickly told him, 'You won't catch him in time if you jump into the water.' He pointed at the rocks and fallen trees alongside the river. 'Use them to catch up to the man.'

The boy nodded and did as he was instructed, he caught the drowning man before they got too close to current of the waterfall and dragged the man to shore. The almost-drowned man was coughing every drop of water he seemed to have swallowed while Ratonhnhaké:ton was breathing heavily as Alex drapped his coat over the young Assassin's shivering shoulders. While the Kanien'kehá:kas were adapted to the cold climate, he did not wish Connor to catch a cold or hypothermia.

The bearded man came over to look at his friend before he turned towards Connor, taking the boy by his arm and pulling him, as he said, 'What this knob-end is trying to say is he's forever in your debt, sir.'

'Who you callin' a knob-end?' the nearly-drown man asked indignantly as he coughed some more.

'You,' the bearded man answered as he went to pick him up. 'Because you are one.'

'What were you doing on those logs?' Connor asked curiously.

Alex beat the beard man in answering the boy's question. 'They are woodcutters, Connor. They harvest and transport trees that are later processed into forest products that are used in constructions or simple furniture like chairs and tables. It is one of the dangers in the transportation process, some men might got their limb crushed because of the large number of logs or drown when there are too few.'

'We've got the camp set up a few rods off of here, as we're cuttin' timber. We're hoping to open a mill in the area,' the bearded man explained and gestured up at the cliff.

'There is a good place not far from the manor on the hill where I am staying,' Connor suggested with a small smile.

'Ha! I like you already,' the bearded man said with a small laugh. 'We'll have a look.'

Both lumberjacks left the river to check at the spot near the mansion, Alex leaned close to Ratonhnhaké:ton and playfully asked in Kanien'kehá:ka, 'How come I didn't know you are an opportunist?'

'Huh?' Connor sounded with a questioning look on his face, all innocent and naïve.

Alex chuckled at the sight as he rubbed the boy's messy hair affectionately before he headed after the woodcutters. 'Come on, we better tell Achilles that we got the wood for the reconstruction of the manor. We have lots of work to do.'

A few months later...

August 13th, 1770. Midnight...

My dearest friends,

I fear that my return to my homeland is neither a joyful one nor good. It is chaos in the New World and I have found more unpleasant news than I wish to hear, but denying it will not change the fact that my childhood friend is dead, murdered at the hands of her lover's lackeys from what I get from her son. Ah... Giry, if you have seen the boy, I think you would fuss over him more than I am right now. He has left his people to seek the help of an Assassin, yes the Assassins we have met. Connor, that's his English name, says that a spirit told him that he must become an Assassin to protect his village, but I see nothing beneficial in his quest to defend his people and bring justice on his mother's murderers. I am afraid that the trauma of witnessing his mother's death and some other unknown and unpleasant experience under Kenway's men has left scars that would not heal even if he kills them all.

I should be glad that the boy trusts me and does not doubt me as others would. Many of my clan brothers whisper bad things behind my back when I went back to Kanatahséton, Connor ignored them and defended me. He and the clan mother are the only two who haven't blamed me for leaving the village. I know very well that I will not find aid in my fellow brothers, so I try to contact the unsavory characters in town. You won't believe it, Gabriel. The thieves in Boston are worse than when you have fallen from glory and their skills are third-rate and unpolished. None of them have any desire to do a good heist, they just want to remain invisible in the city. Mercenaries are welcomed in the British army and they thirve better among the greedy and cruel superiors than on their own, so no help can be found there. There are many orphans in the city, but a few coins is enough to buy their loyalty. I hesitate in trusting the homeless children, for they provide any information and perform any order without question. Their sole desire is a stable current of money that could provide shelter and food for them, something I can not offer with my limited resources. And Kenway has smeared my name, I am currently a wanted man.

In the end, my quest to gather allies and ears failed. I have to count on my own senses and skills to find my target. But, better safe than sorry, I would like to ask all three of you to provide me with a helper.

Giry, if possible, send an understudy or a worker who has learned your skills in organizing financial records and had patience with children, I plan to open an orphanage here where I can control the information and the blind eye of the orphans.

Gabriel, I want someone whom you trust and who can ACTUALLY fight and lead a group if need to. I am going to place him into the core of the operations of the thieves living in Boston. By befriending them and, perhaps, earn their respect, I will later have eyes over every city.

Clayton, I am uncertain what to ask of you, but after careful consideration, I find that I will need someone to act on my behalf. A fighter who can be my double when meeting interested parties. In other words, a fake. If my plans run smoothly, I will have an entire secret network of people working for me and your man will be believed by others to be the leader of this secret organization.

If you have found the men or women I need, tell them to head for a local tavern in Boston called the Green Dragon. I will be there for a while on personal matters. I hope none of you have forgotten my face, but if they are uncertain of who is me, then began reciting this passage from the bible. Or mark it on the table or something.

"My name is Legion, for we are many." Gospel of Mark, chapter five, verse nine.

I will end my letter here and hope that it reaches you safely.

Sincerely,

Your Great Patron

Alex folded the letter neatly, placing it within two different enveloped that are sealed with a wax seal that bore an intricate jagged letter Z. He placed it in the pocket of his coat as he let out a tired sigh and stared out of the window of his room.

Another chapter completed and I hope everyone enjoyed it.