Disclaimer - I don't own Assassin's Creed or Prototype, they belong to their respectful owners.

And so far everyone has been wondering about Alex's Mohawk identity, why the person is called Ratonhnhaké:ton. I have always wonder why Ziio names her son as such, so in this story I make it that it is someone she once cares and all.

Many Meetings

April 20th, 1772...

Alex nursed his tasteless drink as he waited patiently for the contacts his three friends would provide him with. Personally, he really wished Gabriel, Giry and Clayton were the ones coming to help him establish his hold in America. He really feared that whoever his friends sent would lead him to eventually strangle one of them, because it took him a while to get use to the old madam, the idiotic thief and bilingual mercenary.

Giry was his unofficial surrogate mother during his time in London, compared to Dr. Mercer's drunken mother, the madam was the perfect image of a mother. He had hard time imagining a woman having the same qualities. He had nothing against the opposite sex, but after the Karen Parker incident, he had reservations towards the females in general unless they were old grannies. Gabriel was the troublemaker, who could easily bring both the bad and good kind of excitement under the roof, but it was never boring around the man and he provided the best distractions. Of course, if Gabriel was here, he had to keep a constant watch over Connor, because there were only two results if the thief was here with the Assassin: Connor's troubles triple or the boy was in danger of losing his virginity. Clayton was the simpler and plainer of the trio, but the conversations he made were, sadly for his part, hilarious to others. Still, it was amusing teaching English to the Frenchman. The good thing about the man was his loyalty towards others, he was responsible and he was a quick-learner.

If someone asked, he would deny that he missed his three partners in crime, but after six months with one old man on the hill, two lumberjacks who spent more time beating and arguing with each other than chopping trees, a melancholic carpenter and a drunken quartermaster, it was driving him crazy! It was also difficult to leave without one of them looking for him for one reason or another. Only Ratonhnhaké:ton, Godfrey's wife Catherine and Terry's wife Diana did not question his comings and goings. The young Assassin trusted him and his search on his father's whereabouts, Catherine simply did not care what he did as long as he did not bring trouble home and Diana acted very much like a doctor who warned their patient about certain things, but if they ignored her warnings and got injured, she took care of them with a few more advices. In a shorter sentence, it is five against four and he was under a 24 hours surveillance and house arrest.

It took him ages to finally find an excuse to leave Homestead without being too sneaky about it. He was telling part of the truth, he was going to buy some supplies for Homestead, but he just left out the fact that he was meeting some friends. The supplies were rations for the ship, the Aquila. His mind slowly drifted back to the day he and Connor had found the Aquila and its quartermaster.

Around six months ago...

Alex, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Achilles stood outside of the workshop that Godfrey and Terry had recently built. The renovation of the manor was still far from completion, but they had the materials at the very least.

'I'll miss the peace and quiet. But we can certainly use the wood,' Achilles remarked as they looked at the logs of different trees scattered around the house like the mess a child created with his toys.

'The manor needs a lot of work,' Ratonhnhaké:ton agreed.

'That. And others things,' Achilles said as he began leaving the lumberjacks' home. 'Meet me at the small shack by the shoreline when you have time. There's something else you need to see.'

'And what's that?' Alex asked tiredly. He doubted that whatever the old man was going to show them would be great. In fact, he was certain there was going to be more works involved, he would bet his remaining pocketmoney on it.

'An... asset.' The way Achilles paused in his answer already solidified his belief in his guess.

After saving a carpenter from some bandits, both he and Connor made their way to the shack where Achilles stood waiting for them. The young Assassin went to knock the door where someone was drunkenly raving about some old sea stories whatnot, the slurring tone and the heavy smell of alcohol brought back an unpleasant memories of Dr. Mercer. In Alex's mind, he saw through the young doctor's eyes, a woman with messy long hair, baggy eyes and ruffled clothes opened the door of a house that was covered in a thick layer of dust. He could hear the tell-tale clinking sound of bottles filled with the addictive liquid his so-called mother liked as he glared at the woman's back while he held his sister's tiny and fragile hand tighter.

He was brought back to reality by the creaking noise the door made as it was opened by Connor who peered his head in to look for the owner of the shack with Alex leaning to the side slightly to see the interior of the small cabin. Both of them got an air-full of what a brewery smelled like when it was on fire and an ear-full from the shack's inhabitant. 'Said 'go way' boy. D'ya not speak the King's English?'

Unimpressed by the man's insult or his manner, Connor just threw the door wide open to let some fresh into the stale-aired home of the old bearded man who looked to be in his late fifties and wore a discoloured trench coat and yellowed British clothes. Personally, Alex wanted to ask if they could just leave the trash in here and actually looked for the asset they needed somewhere else, but it might be Dr. Mercer's personal experience with an alcoholic clouding his judgement.

'Oh, I didn't see you there, old man. I'd of set my home in order if I'd known you'd be callin',' said the man when Achilles stepped in front of the opened door. Alex doubted that the man had the ability to clean after himself as he went to stand beside Ratonhnhaké:ton who had covered his nose with one finger to prevent himself from inhaling more of the stinking drunken air, grimacing when he found that he could still breath in the disgusting air.

'This boy's name is Connor and the man next to him is Iskandar. They're here to restore the property,' Achilles said, not even bother by the alcohol lingering in the air like an old dirty stain that wouldn't leave no matter how many times one scrubbed it.

'Restore? RESTORE!' the drunk repeated as if he had just waked up, but when the word sunk in, his manner took a 180 degree turn. 'Pardon my manners!'

He, unsteadily, went outside with the bottle of rum in his hand as he shakily pointed at... a destroyed and fallen ship in the bay that looked someone just dragged it out of the bottom of the ocean to see if it was worth something to a museum. God! Do we need to fix everything that should have been recycled decades ago?

'She's still the fastest in the Atlantic – sure she needs some attention... minor things mostly, but with a little affection she'll fly again,' the drunk told then boastfully.

Alex was unimpressed and was ready to take a bucket full of cold water to help clear the old sailor's mind a bit. Ratonhnhaké:ton was just confused by the man's words and asked, 'Who is 'she'?'

The question caused the sailor to sputter indignantly as he shouted, 'WHO is SHE? Why the Aquila, boy! The Ghost of the North Seas!'

'The boat?' Ratonhnhaké:ton asked as he gesture to the downed ship. Alex took hold of the boy and pulled him back an arm-length, the last two times he had been onboard of a ship, none of the sailors, quartermasters or captains liked to hear someone referred to their ship as a boat.

'b–b... a BOAT?' the man repeated the word angrily as he slowly turned to face the Native boy while Alex instinctively went to cover Connor with his half of his body. 'She's a SHIP, boy, and make no mistake about it!' He directed his attention to the handicapped old man. 'I thought you brought him here to restore order! I reckon he's the greenest thing on the frontier!'

'Connor, meet me back at the manor when both of you have finished here,' Achilles ordered as he turned and left them with the drunk. Alex's opinion on the old man was turning sour and he wondered if he could consume him without getting into any trouble. The answer came with the image of Giry who had one arm resting on her waist and one hand up as she put on the motherly scowling face. Zeus, you are not going to kill anyone because you find them annoying.

That speech did happen, that was when Gabriel, Clayton and he went to a tavern to celebrate the mercenary's first successful job. It ended similar to what had happened back at Wright Tavern, around 15 years ago, but he was still punching someone's face. Giry came in and saw the disaster he and his pals left. The old lady could really make them feel like children and had forced them to face the wall for five hours with the other naughty children giggling at them. The three of them learned to never get into any kind of trouble when Giry was around, so they brought trouble to other cities' taverns.

Still, if Giry was here and she found what he was going to do, he would never hear the end of it. Alex faced the drunken sailor and asked, 'Your dear Aquila is going to need lots of repairs. You able?'

'SHE does need work,' the sailor agreed, emphasizing on the she as he went to scowl at Ratonhnhaké:ton. 'A ship is a 'she', boy – and yes I can refit her but I'm lacking in the proper supplies. Some... Some quality timber would help me get started.'

'I can see to that,' Connor volunteered. 'How long before it...' A pointed look from the old sailor. 'SHE is able to sail again?'

'Just get me the lumber, boy and I'll raise a crew,' the drunk slurred as he slid against the wooden wall of his shack and began drinking again.

Both Native shook their head negatively at the sight.

It was a real miracle for Robert Faulkner the drunk to actually stay sober enough to get the manpower and crew needed for the Aquila. He spent months training Ratonhnhaké:ton in the art of assassination and free-run, but the boy trainings usually focus on training to catch him off-guard, because if he could catched him, the dreaded and enhanced virus mass murderer, then Ratonhnhaké:ton was skilled enough to face an entire army of Templars trained with the skill of an Assassin. Sadly for Connor and happily for him, the Kanien'kehá:ka was still far from being the hunter on the top of the food chain and that meant he would not confront his father any time soon. Inwardly, Alex preferred that the boy never met his parent. Part of the reason was that Connor might perceived him as a monster who had slaughtered his English brothers if Kenway revealed that little secret of his and the other was that the situation might turned into a complicated one that would prevent him from exacting revenge on Haytham.

Alex sighed once more as he dumped the rest of his drink down his throat, hoping that the action might dull part of his train of thought. He was readied for another round when someone behind him commented, 'Really? My dear patron, have the New World been so cruel to you that you have drink these tasteless water?'

The virus froze at the familiar voice. He turned to stare at the speaker, hardly believing what he was seeing as he switched his gaze between staring at the two persons who weren't supposed to be here and the empty mug as he wondered if someone spiked his drinks. His mind supplied that it was impossible, because he did not have a nervous system, therefore hallucinated poisons and drugs weren't as effective on him as they did to a normal human being.

Giry wore a simple blue dress like usual and her white hair tied into a small bun, was she that frail-looking when he had left London? Alex did not recall the madam being so old before. Gabriel was standing next to her, his hair had streaks of grey covering the side, and he wore his usual Robin Hood clothes without the weapons. Both of them were smiling at him. Actually, only Giry was smiling, Gabriel was grinning as he said with opened arms, 'Surprise!'

The only response the master thief received was a flick on the forehead, a painful one. Gabriel covered his throbbing forehead with one hand as he demanded, 'What was that for?'

'Sorry,' Alex replied, not sounding sorry at all. 'I am just making sure that I haven't gone mad yet.'

'Nope, you have not, son,' Giry said as she went to hug him. 'It is so good to see unharmed and well.'

Alex was a bit speechless for a moment, because Giry and Gabriel's arrival was still a shock to him. He expected some strangers that his friends sent him, not seeing two of his three accomplices here, it was a wonder he wasn't shocked.

'Why are you guys here? I thought both of you are busy in London,' Alex said as he looked between the elder lady and young man.

'Well, you did ask someone who is capable of fighting and leading,' Gabriel said suavely. 'I think I am the only one with those qualities you seek.'

The virus rolled his eyes at the narcissistic behaviour before he turned his gaze to Giry who shared the same look as he was before she answered, 'My doctor suggests that I spend some time at the countryside and I want to leave the city's life for a very long time. Spending time with the nobles is tiring, my dear.'

The Runner nodded in agreement, the few times he was actually in one of the madam's parties, he was readied to demolish the entire building to crush those guests who kept looking at him as if he was an exotic animal or a piece of meat. He dropped a few coins on the counter as he gestured at the door to his friends. Their conversation was better for outside and he still needed to get the supplies.

'Why didn't you tell me you are coming? I would have had prepared a better place for both of you,' Alex started when they were outside.

'You don't need to worry, my boy,' Giry replied as she patted his shoulder gently. 'We don't need to live in a castle. A small room is more than enough.'

'Well, I wouldn't mind living in a castle,' the master thief mused and got a slap on the back of his head for his cheek. 'What? It would have been great to live in a perfumed room, bowls of snack wherever I stand, silky clothes and comfortable furniture. At least, it will be better than my old nest.'

Alex shook his head at the banter that started between the old woman and young man, but he couldn't stop his lips from twitching upward into a smirk. It had been too long for him. Inwardly, he thanked whatever deities there were out there for bringing some of his friends to him.

A few days later...

April 27th, 1772...

Connor was sitting cross-legged against the balcony of the manor as he wrote on the journal that Ratonhnhaké:ton had been given to him as a birthday present. He was at lost when he had received until his elder explained to him that a birthday present was a gift that one gave to someone they cared about dearly to celebrate his or her day of birth, they were often from parents and friends. Ever since he had received it, he kept on writing his thoughts and the events that he deemed important. The young Assassin was grateful for his first present he ever received and happy that his mother's friend cared for him as if he was his own flesh and blood. Connor dipped his quill into the inkpot as he began writing.

Time passed quickly after that – my days a blur of study, training, and work. What little free time Achilles allowed me was spent learning about the Templars. About Charles Lee and my father. I longed to confront them – to put an end to their schemes – to ensure my people would remain untroubled and free. But I knew, as much as Ratonhnhaké:ton often reminds me, it was too soon. That to approach them now would see me killed. All my work would be for nothing... Patience. Restraint. These proved the most difficult subject for me. But in time I mastered them as well with my elder's help, he reminded me of my people's teaching and the skill of a hunter, helping to find similarities between the hunter's skill and that of an Assassin. Fishing to practice my patience. Catching him off guard to learn restraint. All too soon. Days became months. Months became years. And as my skills and knowledge grew, so too did I…

The Kanien'kehá:ka paused in his writing as he heard a neigh sounded in the air. He gently placed his journal aside and closed the inkpot as he turned in time to spot a carriage from afar with Iskandar as its driver approaching the manor. Excitement coursed his veins as he realized that Ratonhnhaké:ton had returned from his trip to Boston with the supplies Faulkner asked. Connor jumped over the balcony and landed softly on the ground, running towards the front of the manor to welcome his elder.

'Welcome back, elder!' Connor greeted the older Kanien'kehá:ka happily in their mother tongue.

The man smiled lightly at the welcome and replied, 'Yes, it is good to be back.'

Iskandar got off of the carriage and went to open the side door, holding his arm out for someone. Connor tilted his head to the side to see who was leaving the coach. It was an old lady whose was as aged as the clan mother was, with bright and youthful blue eyes, and grey snowy white hair tied to a bun. She thanked Iskandar as she descended the few steps of the carriage elegantly, still holding onto his elder's forearm. The person following the old woman was a man with brown shaggy hair, faint stubble on his chin, and mischievous dark eyes. His clothes looked almost like that of an Assassin, but in black and dark green as its main colours.

The older Kanien'kehá:ka looked back at him and presented the two strangers with a small smile, 'Allow me to present my two friends from England, Madam Giry and Gabriel.'

The lady smiled pleasantly as she nodded in greeting and said, 'You must be Connor, Iskandar told us so much about you on our way here.'

The woman gave him the impression of a kind and gentle mother, but the man...

'Ooh, the boy is much more handsome than you said, my dear patron,' Gabriel said seductively with his face inches from his. 'And cute when he blushes.'

Connor couldn't stop the red from spreading over his cheeks as he took a step back and stuttered, 'Wh–hat? WHAT?'

The man was soon pulled back by an angry Iskandar, who looked more furious than he had ever seen him, fists clenched in a painful grip on the man's collar as he told the man threateningly, 'This is a one time warning, Gabriel. So listen carefully. Connor is my son.' The young Kanien'kehá:ka's eyes widened at the possessiveness of the word and the word itself. 'I will not tolerate you trying to seduce him, bed him or touch him in any inappropriate way. Do I make myself clear?'

'Oh? I haven't seen this side of you before,' Gabriel purred slightly as he closed the distance between his face and that of Iskandar until they almost touching each other's lips. 'Are you jea– OUCH!'

Connor blinked in surprise as he looked at the elderly woman who had fingers holding onto one of the man's ears smiled all motherly-like as she apologized, 'Please forgive Gabriel here, he never learns to control his impulsiveness. If you don't mind, WE need to meet with the owner of the land and asked if he doesn't mind us living here for a few days until we found somewhere else to rest.'

The Kanien'kehá:ka Assassin looked between the smiling lady and the current begging pervert as he pointed at the manor uncertainly as he answered, 'Achilles is in the living room, last room on the left.'

The old lady happily thanked him as she tugged on Gabriel's ear and led him inside like a dog on a leash. The young Assassin shared an awkward look with his elder as he hesitantly asked, 'Do they always...?' He feebly gestured to the door where the duo had disappeared into.

'Only when Gabriel is causing trouble,' Ratonhnhaké:ton answered embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. 'Come on, let's bring these supplies to Faulkner before he began hollering at us from the bay.'

Connor nodded in agreement, but they first removed the baggages of Giry and Gabriel and left by the door before they rode towards the small port that was recently built along with the repairing Aquila. When they reached the shore, sailors were running and climbing around the ship, some saw them and hurriedly went to retrieve the boxes of supplies as he went to removed the horses' harness and brought them to a nearby stable where a young stable boy came and took the agitated and tired horses. Ratonhnhaké:ton was looking at the ship with doubt as Connor joined his side.

'Come aboard and feast your eyes, mates!' the old sober quartermaster shouted from the ship, gesturing them to come aboard the Aquila.

Connor was the first to go, but he took just one step on the wooden board before Faulkner shouted negatively and gestured at him to back off, 'No no no no, not the left foot! Never the left foot. Horrible luck. Step with your right foot first.'

The Native spared a questioning glance back at Ratonhnhaké:ton who rolled his eyes at the worry in the man's voice and shrugged his shoulders. Connor took the first step with his right foot, which pleased the quartermaster greatly as he went aboard with his elder following him. The young Assassin went to shake of the wood to test their sturdiness before he looked back to see the old sailor's look that demanded if he found any imperfection and said uncertainly, 'She is... solid.'

'Aye. Weatherly and sleek. She'll fetch 12 knots in a stiff gale, ne'er a ship from here to Singapore can outrun her on her best day,' Faulkner boasted as he clapped him on the shoulder. 'Wha'dya say we take her out and show you what she can do first hand.'

'What?' Connor heard the ever-seemingly distant voice of his elder.

'Where would we go?' Connor asked for his curiosity about the ship's ability piqued now that it was in a far better shape than the first time he had laid eye on it... her...

'As it happens she still needs guns and the officers to command them. We'll launch straight away,' the quartermaster answered as he clapped him on the shoulder again 'Don't worry, lad, I'll make sure you and your friend sprout good sea legs.'

'That will never happened.' Connor turned to see Ratonhnhaké:ton muttering darkly and eyeing the water below with the same venomous gaze he had sent to Gabriel minutes ago. 'Not over my dead body, it won't.'

'Do not worry so, elder,' the young Native said with a small smile. 'It's just a small journey. I am sure there's nothing to worry about.'

The older Kanien'kehá:ka sighed, 'I hope so.'

One week and two days later...

Connor was on top of the main mast, feeling the wind of the sea, with his elder beside him, but strangely, since they had began sailing, the older Kanien'kehá:ka had took the crow's nest as his territory and had been adamant in his choice of sleeping quarters. Faulkner had been yelling at the elder every hour whenever he saw that he was not on the crow's nest and was walking around the sails. The young Assassin decided to see if it was time for his lesson in piloting the Aquila and climbed down to the deck.

'Come on, lad! No time like the present to teach you!' Faulkner said insistingly as he kept his hand on the wheel. The young Assassin paused, a few away from the wheel. 'Come on, come on! She won't bite!'

The Assassin-in-training carefully took hold of the wheel as he listened to the detailed instructions from the quartermaster and before he knew it, he was no longer afraid in the wind's sudden blows or rocks that appeared on the water, but once in while he would spare a glance up at the main mast where Ratonhnhaké:ton kept his silence, worried that something was wrong with the experienced Assassin. The Aquila and her crew safely reached Martha's Vineyard, a small port town.

'Drop anchor,' Faulkner ordered the men before he turned his attention to him. 'We'll go ashore, buy our guns and find our officers.'

Connor nodded in affirmation as he went to look at his elder again, wondering why the man was so silent and distant since their journey started. The young Assassin quickly climbed up the mast until he reached the top and he softly asked his elder, 'Is something wrong?'

Ratonhnhaké:ton turned and greeted with an unease smile as he replied, 'I am fine, child. Perfectly fine, but I think I need stretched my legs a bit on land. You and Faulkner go ahead, I'll leave with the men with the boat that would later carry the cannons.'

The younger Assassin was hesitant in leaving his elder when he looked like he had been forced to eat something distasteful and was trying his best not to show his true thoughts. He went to hold the man's shoulder gently as he said, 'If you are not fine, then go rest in my room.'

The elder kept wearing that weak smile as he replied, 'Don't worry, I will join you soon enough.'

'Alright,' Connor muttered defeatedly as he left Ratonhnhaké:ton on the mast.

Alex was not sure what he wanted to do. So far, his mental thoughts were surrounded on him being seasick like a normal human being who needed to empty their stomach content into the salt water sea, but his body made out of virus did not considered itself to be ill, so it was all in his mind. He wanted to get rid of the stupid fear of water, but the hydrophobia was ingrained into his genes.

It's alright, Alex. You'll kiss the land soon enough. The virus thought weakly as he looked at the ever distant port as the boat was swaying in a tiny motion. When he reached land, he kept taking deep breath to calm his mind and tried to refocus his limbs on the solid and stable ground. He was swaying side to side like a drunk in the first few steps before he found his mental center and began walking after the strong smell of disgusting alcohol and loud unrefined music.

He entered the Vineyard's Inn in time to see Ratonhnhaké:ton, looking as stormy as he was with his seasick, approaching two men sitting on the table beside the entrance. He went and caught the boy before he reached the men, he quickly pulled him aside and whispered in quick Kanien'kehá:ka, 'What are you doing?'

'That man knows of Charles Lee,' Connor muttered back angrily as he glared at the old man with white wig and merchant-like clothes. Alex studied them both thoughtfully as he analysed the information he had gathered and learned from both Connor and Achilles' conspiracy table and the history from the future. The man Connor pointed out was Benjamin Church who would be the first Surgeon General of the U.S. Army, serving as the "Chief Physician and Director General" of the Medical Service of the Continental Army two years from now, he was also known as the Templar's "finder and fixer". Perhaps the best and better way of describing Church was that he was, from the Harry Potter series, a Slytherin through and through, a bastard who focused on self-preservation and personal gain. A cruel surgeon with the mind of businessman, causing more harm than healing on his patients. Alex turned his dark eyes to the man next to Church, he identified the man as Nicholas Biddle, one of the future captains of the Continental Navy during the American Revolution and the one who would command the USS Randolph. He recalled Achilles mentioning that the junior officer had been seen with some of the Templar members. 'He was there with Charles Lee before the village was burned and my mother died.'

Alex closed his eyes and calmed his nerve, not wanting to act rashly by this new piece of information. Connor would only go and demand Church information concerning Lee, which was something he must prevent, because he would rather the Templars, most importantly Kenway, to never discover the boy's existence until he became a full-fledge Assassin. The virus kept a tight hold on the struggling boy who was more than prepared to beat Church for information. 'Calm Ratonhnhaké:ton. I will find out where Lee is, but I need you to return to Homestead with Faulkner.'

The boy looked up at him disappointedly as he hissed out, 'They kill mother.'

'I know,' Alex muttered gently and calmly as he slowly loosen his hold on the boy. 'I will find them, child. But I need to know that you are safe from harm while I begin my search, can you do that for me?'

Ratonhnhaké:ton hesitated for a minute before he nodded in agreement and whispered, 'Remember our promise.'

'I will,' the Runner whispered back as he removed the small battered pendant from his tomahawk, he placed it in the boy's hand and closed the fingers over it. 'Another reason for me to come back.'

The boy, in turn, removed his own bear claws necklace and gave it to him. 'A third reason to come back safely.'

The virus quickly and carefully slipped the necklace on as if it was something that would crumple to dust at his touch before he led the boy to Faulkner's table with the two officers for the cannons. 'Take care of Connor for the rest of the trip, Mr. Faulkner.'

'What?' The quartermaster turned to face him. 'What do you mean by that lad? Where are you going?'

'An old friend is around and I need to speak with him,' the virus replied as he gestured with his head to Church and Briddle behind him. 'If Achilles is still arguing with Giry, tell her that she and Gabriel can take my room until I come back.'

'Alright, mate,' the quartermaster said after a moment. 'We still need to teach the boy about the cannons. We'll be back home before you know it.'

Alex nodded in thanks as the sailors took to their leave with Ratonhnhaké:ton giving one final look at him before they left the tavern for good as the virus went to order a drink on the counter as he eavesdropped on the Templar behind him.

'War is inevitable, Mr. Biddle,' Church said. 'Colonials are tired of the new rules enforced by the British parliament. The Stamp act. The Revenue Act. The Indemnity Act. The Commissioners of Customs Act. All these are just excuses to squeeze more taxes than the good people here can offer. On the other hand, our Order can offer you much if you join the coming revolution. You'll become a captain of your own ship.'

'How can you be so sure that I will have a ship of my own, let alone me being the captain?' Biddle asked interested.

'Our leader has many resources and ties, he will guarantee your success in becoming a Captain if you join our cause,' Church answered confidently.

The junior officer of the British Navy considered the offer in silence while Alex took small sip from his mug. Inwardly, the virus was tempted to just go and consumed Church for the information of Kenway's location, but Ratonhnhaké:ton deserved to be the one to kill each and every Templar who had murdered his mother. So tailing the good doctor was the only option. 'Very well. Please tell your Master that I accept his offer.'

'I welcome you first into our Order,' the surgeon said gladly as he shook the man's hand. 'May the Father of Understanding guide us.'

Alex waited until both men left the tavern before he drank the rest of his drink in one shot, his free hand flicked some coins on the counter, and left to follow Church, hoping that he might be lead to Haytham's base of operation or to the man himself. The sky was painted with a dark, blood red, and orange hue as Alex quietly tailed after his target in a distance.

When the night had thrown its black blanket over the entire city, Alex's form shifted and tendrils surrounded him. In a blink of an eye, his form changed from that a Mohawk in Colonial clothings to that of a tanned skin sailor. Alex silently slipped onto the rooftop of the houses and continued tailing after Church until he reach the port where he spoke to a shady-looking sailor there.

'I need this delivered to the Grand Master,' Church said harshly to the man as he slipped a letter into the man's opened hand. 'It's important this letter reaches Virginia as soon as possible.'

The man nodded hurriedly as Church left for another ship. Alex quietly slipped into the deserted streets and approached the walking sailor from behind. When he was close enough, the Runner grabbed the sailor by the head and, with one abrupt twist, snapped the messenger's neck. He knelt down and patted the body, searching for the letter Church had asked to be delivered. He pulled out the object from the inner pocket of the worn out waistcoat. He broke the seal on the envelope as part of his body consumed the corpse of the sailor and began reading what news Church was going to give to his Master.

Three months later...

Haytham Kenway was signing off another of file from the stacks of paperwork on his desk, the short candles in his office were still burning brightly, he should be able to finish everything before they burned out. As long as nothing unexpected came up. His coat, cape and tricorn hat was hung on a wooden hanger stand, his weapons were on the belt that was hanging on his chair, easy to reach for the loaded the pistols, and his hidden blades remained on his arms.

He paused for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose as he felt a wave of fatigue coming over him. His housekeeper, Sofia Carter, kept telling him to rest early because of his old age, which angered him slightly, but he ignored the old lady's worry and focused on his task. Sure he was in his early fifties, but he was hardly an old man who needed to spend more time at home to rest his weary bones. The Templar's gaze removed itself from the papers before him and went to settle on the small wooden box within the glass cupboard a few steps away from where he sat. Within it, laid the finished letters of his lies and of his wishes.

It had been a very long while since he had sent any of them. Haytham had been regretting sending the fake letters and he did not know why he had even made up half of every letter's content to begin with. Was it the fear of Alex discovering that he had broke Ziio's heart and coming to assassinate him in his sleep? Or was it the fear of losing his friend's trust? Haytham did not had any answer, but there was an uneasy feeling in his heart that something was wrong, he felt as if he was back at the time when Holden was still alive and taking care of him while he was on his deathbed, but that was before his most loyal and trusted man committed suicide and left him with no one but himself to trust.

Alex had so far been trying to contact him and he had ordered his men to either pickpocket letters and replaced them or bribed the messengers with money. It had already been two years since the Boston Massacre incident, he still couldn't shake the feeling that the voice that had called out to him that night was Zeus' and almost three years since the Native had tried to contact him. He had also received news that the Mohawk had abandoned his job and had sold all of his possessions to his men. Since then, no one was able to find him, as if he had just disappeared from the face of the earth. So the chance that it was Alex calling after him that night was high, but the British Army had mistaken him for being the accomplice of the scapegoat Native boy and a bounty was still on the man's head amongst the army. Thankfully, Pitcairn was one of the superiors in the army and was ordered to bring Zeus alive to one of their bases, so even if by chance someone caught him, the Templars would intercept before anyone else decided to execute the bounty hunter.

Haytham was snapped out of his thoughts by the sharp pain from under his ribcage before lightning flashed outside of his window. The Grand Master's hand went to cover his torso as he breathed in and out slowly as he had done many times when the old wound began acting up. This old injury always throbbed with pain whenever it was raining or was about to rain. His controlled breathing slowly eased the pain until it was nothing but a persistent dull pain. He was about to continue with his paperwork when, suddenly, a strong wind entered the office and blew half of stacks off of the table, scattering the papers around the room, causing the candles to extinguish and plunge the whole office into darkness.

The Grand Master's first reaction was extending one of his hidden blades while the other grasped the pistol. His vision was quickly switched to that of his second sense, turning the world into of glowing blue and black. His enhanced eyesight landed on the golden hue of a figure knelt on the opened window sill. Lightning flashed and blinded his vision with bright white for a second.

'Hello Haytham,' the intruder spoke in a calming and familiar voice. One he hadn't heard for almost sixteen years.

'Alex?' Haytham whispered.

So... tell me how is it. And Review! PLEASE!