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

The Battlefield's Monsters

April 18th, 1775

Ratonhnhaké:ton stretched his muscles languidly as he went to his wardrobe where his Assassin's robe stood clean and repaired. After spending weeks in bed, he was more than eager to start training again even if he had only an hour of sunlight left, but his thought was stopped by a folded paper stuck underneath the collar. He gently plucked the paper out and quickly read:

Ratonhnhaké:ton, (He was slightly surprised to see how his Native name looked like in English) take it easy for a day or two, you've just got back on your feet, so no extensive trainings or activities. I've got to talk to Giry, I'll be back as soon as I can, until then, REST.

Connor shook his head lightly at the message for he wanted to start training again. The weeks he had spent on bed gave him this impression that all of his strength deteriorated during his rest. He rolled his shoulder blades lightly, cringing slightly at the cracking noise the bones made as he made his way out of his room. The Kanien'kehá:ka straightened himself when he arrived at the last step of the stairs, spotting the limping Mentor came out of his room as well, and he greeted lightly, 'Achilles.'

The old man returned the greeting with a dip of his hat before his dark eyes scanned their surrounding and questioned, 'Where has the Hellhound gone to?'

'Hellhound?' the young Assassin repeated the word questioningly.

'That Iskandar,' Achilles said.

'Ah,' the Kanien'kehá:ka intoned dully. 'He went to visit Madame Giry.'

The African-American snorted rudely at the mention of Madame Giry's name, despite the time and separation between those two elders, they still managed to hate each other and riled up at the slightest mention of their nemesis's name. Their antics often caused both Kanien'kehá:kas to shake their head both in defeat and annoyance, the two of them could be seen as the prime example of the relationship some the white men had with the Iroquoises. It was amazing how they could keep up with their prejudices towards each other.

A loud knock soon interrupted his thoughts and made him gaze at the front door while Achilles went to see who it was, a courier stood behind the door with a letter in hand. The Native watched the quiet interaction between the two men as the old man read the letter handed to him with a grim face. Connor approached the solemn-looking Mentor with a questioning look that asked what was wrong.

'A request for aid from Paul Revere,' Achilles answered the voiceless question. 'Seems the Redcoats are up to something in Boston. Guess you made an impression on the Sons of Liberty.'

The young man shook his head at the comment, he was no member of the Sons of Liberty nor was he interested in the political arguments they seemed interested in spreading amongst the people. It was their goal to start a rebellion against the Crown while his goal was to eliminate the Templars' hold on these lands. He looked at the old man and said, 'They mistake me for one of their own.' Turning to the messenger. 'Please tell Mister Revere he has my sympathies, but I cannot help at present.'

As both Native and messenger moved to leave, Achilles remarked. 'You might wish to reconsider: John Pitcairn is mentioned by name.'

The effect was almost instant and Connor demanded, 'Where am I to go?'

'Mister Revere's house in Boston,' the courier answered instead and gestured slightly to the road. 'If you'd like I can...'

The Assassin didn't bother to speak with the man and simply headed to the stable next to the manor. Kahn-tineta, the black stallion his surrogate father had picked up in one of his many trips to the Frontier, neighed in greeting when she spotted him approaching the stable, making him slowed to a stop to pet her neck. She was the most loyal creature in Homestead, Kahn-tineta seemed to have her mind set in helping her rider and his friends, going so much as taking the place of the injured draught horse of Warren's and helping the farmer in ploughing the field. Ratonhnhaké:ton had the feeling that whatever awaited him Revere's home, his steed would have to use all of her strength and will to assure his success in his mission.

'It will be a difficult time ahead, my friend,' the Native Assassin murmured softly to the animal. 'I hope you're ready to face it.'

And I should warn Raké:ni too. He reminded himself before he rode towards Madame Giry's orphanage, but what greeted him there were empty silence and hollow hallways that were void of any signs of life.

It was simply deserted...

What had happened? Where had everyone gone to? Why in such haste?

The questions plagued him, but Connor pushed them away to focus on the meeting he had with Revere. Raké:ni said he was seeing Giry, so he shouldn't worry too much, the senior Assassin was stronger than him and could protect everyone with his strength. His strength and wits were what he had the most faith upon.

A few hours later...

Frontier's underground cavern...

Alex brought the final crate filled with preserved food into the cave as he studied the small groups of children who looked and whispered to each other fearfully. The virus couldn't blame them for acting this way, seeing that he had ordered Giry to evacuate the entire orphanage and told them to only take what was necessary, the kids barely had the time to pick up their favourite belongings, namely toys, before they were all moved to this cave. The reason of the household evacuation: Battles of Lexington and Concord. Their home was too close to the battlefield, even a stray shot from afar might accidentally hit the place, and he shuddered to think about the fight moving toward the small defenceless manor with none of the soldiers noticing Giry or her children getting slaughtered by their war.

'Iskandar?' the madame called out softly as she approached him and the stack-up crates. 'Is this all the food and blankets?'

'Yes,' Alex replied as he handed a makeshift clipboard to the old woman for her to double check the supplies. 'Hopefully, this fight won't last too long and you can all go home soon.'

Leaving Giry with the supplies, he checked the rest of the cavern, to make sure nothing unpleasant had accidentally slipped in or something had been hibernating in here without him noticing, but there was nothing unusual, no animal or man in hiding, just the wee devils that were known as children and their few tired and anxious guardians. As he finished his rounds around the area, his heightened senses warned him of someone approaching from the shadow and the only person who ever tried to sneak up on him constantly was an Assassin.

'Afternoon, Stalker,' Alex greeted without looking at Joe. He personally preferred to call the guy by his nickname, Night Stalker, than his given name.

'Sir,' the man greeted in his usual silent tone as he watched the children's shadow from the end of the tunnel. 'Garrett has spotted movements from the Sons of Liberty. We believe they will take action tonight.'

'I know,' the virus interjected. 'I want you to stay near this area and look after them. I doubt that the fight won't spread to here when it begins.'

'Very well,' the Night Stalker replied. 'Shall I inform the thief as well?'

It was unsurprising that Stalker and Fillian did not get along, seeing that one was an order freak and the other simply messed things up more often than not. He still needed to contact Gabriel and warned him to stay away from Lexington.

'No need,' Alex answered. 'I need to talk to his leader anyway.'

To warn him to put whatever heists he had in mind on hold, he doubted the master thief was stupid, but better than sorry, especially when considering Gabriel's daredevil attitude, he would take it as a challenge instead of a stop sign. He might have to take some drastic measures...

Alex quickly said his goodbyes to Giry before he left the cave and turned into his Mercer form. He better hurry too, he had little doubts that the Sons of Liberty might try to pull Connor into their little fight, especially if they had a Templar bait within their plans. As he travelled through the Frontier, his ears soon caught the noises of hooves stomping on the ground, blue eyes narrowed as he focuses on the noises and soon heard someone shouting something.

'To the left, Connor!'

WHAT! Alex mentally roared in his mind as he turned in the direction of the voice, his eyes zoomed in on a horse with two riders, one of them was clearly Ratonhnhaké:ton who followed Paul fucking Revere's inapt barking directions. He quickly went up the tree branches and kept close to the riders, frowning at Revere's tone that sounded like he was barking orders to a dog instead of a person. WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING TAKE THE REIGNS YOU ASSHOLE!

The virus watched in frustration as the two men rode from house to house to warn people and several times he had... discreetly thrown a small pebble to stop Revere from harassing his boy who was completely oblivious to the fact that the older guy was fucking sexually assaulting him. A GUY WON'T WRAP HIS ARMS AROUND YOUR FUCKING WAIST LIKE HE'S A WOMAN OR TOUCH YOUR TIGHTS FROM TIME TO TIME. THIS IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!

He managed to satisfy a tiny part of his bloodlust when they were running away from Regulars, enjoying the large rock he managed to land on the back of the pedophile's head, but his enjoyment soon turned to anger as his stealth shots made Revere wrapped his arms around the Assassin's waist.

Alex kept fuming in anger as he plotted Revere's horrifying death in his imagination and watched as the two came to a stop at Prescott's home, but no one within the house seemed to notice the knocks Revere made. The Blacklight soon spotted movement from the side of the house and changed position from the branches to see who or what was there. What he found had solidified one thought and made him concluded. THOSE FUCKING IMPORTANT FIGURES OF AMERICA ARE PERVERTS AND PEDOPHILES!

The Blacklight rolled his eyes at the sight of the half naked woman running away from Prescott who wore no pants of whatsoever and greeted Connor and Paul Revere as if he was actually modestly clothed. The sight made the artificial blood in him boiled as he mentally wished that his adopted son would stop being so fucking dense. Where the hell were his mother's genes? Ziio at least knew how to break the wrists of every bastard who had dared touch or even look at her inappropriately. The sight made him huffed in utter frustration. His virginity seemed to be in more danger than his health and Gabriel wouldn't be the cause of it!

Alex kept watch from outside despite the fact that the virus within his entire body screamed at him to barge in and drag Ratonhnhaké:ton out of there, listening to those idiots who ordered the Assassin to assist them in their battle. Bah! It was more like dumping their work on the kid. How he wished he could dismember them as Adams and his company left for safety.

Blue eyes watched as the moon began descended upon the horizon, telling him that it would soon be April 19th and the first battle of the American Revolution would begin. With a grimace, he followed the Assassin towards Lexington, where the small group of armed men had gathered with John Parker.

Of course, as history had shown him so far, those "actual facts" were far from the truth. John Parker looked like he was near his deathbed than the proud soldier who fought bravely at the Battle of Lexington. Then again, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis, so he barely had any time left on his watch and appearances were the last thing that occupied his mind, though Alex had to say it, that guy looked more like a drunkard than a sick man. His face was red in a similar hue to that of a man having one too many pints, his greying hair was as unkempt as his beard and he was barely able to hold his musket straight, hunching over like it was a wooden walking cane than using it as a weapon.

The old captain began the order that forever immortalized him in American history, 'Stand your ground. Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!'

It was a wonder that anyone in the militia managed to hear whatever he was saying through his constant coughing, but neither he nor Connor was interested in his speech, seeing that on the side of field was John Pitcairn on horseback. The British Major declared, 'Disperse, you damned rebels! Lay down your arms and disperse!'

Unlike Parker's speech, the small militia managed to hear what the head of the enemy had said clearly and many people's face was clouded in doubt, making Alex shake his head at the sad sight. Some idiots decided to take the shot first and chaos erupted from both sides. Some of the rebels began running away in fear, abandoning their weapons in favour of leaving the battlefield, and the British army fired upon them and outright declared war on them.

Parker futilely barked at the escaping men to return to position, forcing Ratonhnhaké:ton to grab him and forcefully pulled him behind cover. When the old man was safe from being shot at, the Assassin told him, 'They are not coming back. You will have to make do with those who remain.'

Alex rolled his eyes in exasperation at the old man's comeback about being more experienced in this sort of situation. His pale blue eyes went to study the army of Regulars and the few remaining rebels, trying to ascertain whether his aid would be discovered by either side. Not it would make much difference, but if Ratonhnhaké:ton would remain in this area or make a tactical retreat, he better give him an opening to do so. He closed his eyes in concentration as he willed his biomass to change and construct an offensive weapon that was different from his usual ones that were more up-close-and-personal. The idea actually came from studying various plans left from the previous Assassins and one Leonado DaVinci. Not really part of his fighting style, but something a bit more long-range was what he currently needed.

Unlike his previous arsenal of biomass weapons, this one was not as extravagant, though it was still as lethal as anything he could make from his biomass. He called it a toxin bomb, it would have been more correct if he named it a toxic cloud bomb, though that was a mouthful.

He launched one experimentally, observing the effect of the toxin bomb he had launched into the first row of Regulars. Every soldier on the frontline was trapped within a thick cloud of poison. He guessed testing on poisonous herbs was useful, it was easy to replicate the toxicity and easier to change its basic chemical compound to turn it into a more vaporous matter. With that done, he better made sure Connor had an escape route out of this mess.

Sadly, the boy had other ideas and simply obeyed the coughing old soldier's order, hurrying to Concord where their small army amassed, but to get there, he would have to travel through a fucking war zone. Groaning in frustration inwardly as he followed the Assassin and he swore that he had to instil some sense of self-preservation in Ratonhnhaké:ton, because he was extremely lacking in that peculiar department. Had he mentioned that before? At least once or twice he believed. Had he told Ratonhnhaké:ton before? Pretty sure a dozen of times and that that selflessness he carried would be the death of him in the Revolution.

Alex tailed after the young man by foot when they'd reached the Lexington, where many villagers ran left and right to escape from the redcoats who were arresting whoever they deemed to be rebels with many of the panic villagers begging for someone to help the captured men. Of course, the Assassin's hero complex kicked in and made a temporary detour on the group of redcoats who had gathered a small number of militia. It would be useless to hide now, better to have a face-to-face meeting now than later. Hopefully, the Native American would see him as a trustworthy ally and would seek him out when he needed help and he refused to talk to him in his Raké:ni form. He would need all the help he could get before this was over: Assassins, aids outside the Brotherhood's circle and many others.

The Blacklight quickly modified his biomass into a hidden blade, which slipped out from under skin of his wrist and, out of precaution, he made sure his forearm was covered in a thin bracer that was made from the same material as his armour form, though a bit smoother looking than the bulky carapace texture of his armour. He dispatched the captain of the group and his two bodyguards while Connor dealt with the soldiers who were marching with the prisoners. It was a quick and painless death for all of them.

Alex grimaced slightly at the thin coat of dust over his black coat, he gave his biomass garment a few pats to get rid of the amount of dust he had managed to collect by running past the panic crowd before he focused his attention on the Assassin who was giving a curious stare, something that he found was too similar to that an innocent wolf pup than his usual lone wolf face. Not right now. He snapped inwardly to himself while keeping a passive façade in front of the boy.

'You're the stranger at the Boston Harbour,' the Native American started once he got a better look at his face.

Alex smirked slightly and gave the young man a curt bow as he introduced himself, 'Alexander Mercer, at your service.'

'Ratonhnhaké:ton,' Connor replied and gave a curt nod in greeting.

'I know. You're Iskandar's pupil,' the Blacklight said dismissively. 'I believe you're on an important errand?'

His dismissive manner had most certainly affected the young man, judging by the manner he thinned his lips, not at the same extend as when Achilles did something that annoyed them, but they were in a hurry to get to North Bridge, the sole path that led directly into Concord, the questions could come later after the British Army marching towards their location was dealt with. Ratonhnhaké:ton quickly rode through the field with him following closely at his side. When they reached the bridge, they found some barely organized groups of men prepping their muskets for the coming battle. How did the rebel militia ever survive to Independence Day was beyond him. Lack of resources and organization. It should have taken a thousand of miracles to turn this piece of crap into the United States of America. This equalled to more work for him to do. Great... Looking forward to it...

He studied the area while the Assassin went to deliver the letter to Colonel James Barrett. Also, someone needed to knock some senses into those historians who recorded the American Revolution, because his appearance was much older than what was written in American History, and if he decided to make a move on his boy, many were going to lose their hand before the day was over. Wait. My boy? Oh god...

Alex cringed as Greene's memories began playing under his eyes once more, the dirty operation room, the bright light above the surgical table and the wailing baby child. Those damned images were driving him mad! He snarled under his breath as he refocused on his surroundings, ignoring the odd desire to hold Connor close to him or the stranger urge to take a bite off of whosoever stood too close to him, and looked back at the miserable sight these men produced. If the redcoats came and attacked them in formation from the riverbank of both side of the bridge, they would long be buried under a hail of bullets before they even managed to reload their guns, unless someone distracted them.

Ratonhnhaké:ton soon returned to his side and told him of the feeble strategy James Barrett had given him while he retreated to a safer location, where he would wait for their reinforcements. Alex slightly resisted the urge to slap his face in utter frustration at the fact that the Assassin was directly placed into harms' way. Again!

'You seem displeased with the plan,' the Native American remarked while his eyes never left the raising smoke that came from Lexington.

'My job is to make sure you return home in one piece. Having more than a dozen holes in your body does not mean you're in one piece,' the virus replied in a cold and extremely sarcastic manner.

'Reinforcements will come,' Connor insisted before he gazed at the terrified men who held their musket for dear life. 'We need to make sure these men can return home safely. My life is no more important than theirs.'

And there's the hero complex speech... The Blacklight thought in displeasure as he heaved a heavy sigh. The temptation to just knock him unconscious and carry him away was a very sweet idea by now, though he doubted that would keep him from attempting to escape back into the fray. At least, what task he must do to keep him alive was clear.

'Alright, you should be more than able to get them shooting in the right direction. I'll act as a decoy and keep the Regulars busy,' Alex started and pointed the opposite bank.

'That's dangerous,' Connor interjected instantly at his idea.

The virus laughed lightly, giving the Assassin a smirk that had once been the promise of death on those who had encountered him, but now, it was simply a display of his confidence in his abilities. He whispered secretively to him, 'That's under the assumption that they can land a hit on me. And here are our guests.'

Ratonhnhaké:ton stared at the spot he pointed where the bright red colour of the redcoats' uniform could be spotted from the forest's foliage, judging from how loud their marching sounded from all the way over here, they had probably mobilized every soldier in the area to deal with their three little squadrons of rookies.

'Well then, shall we get started?' Alex asked in a not-so-innocent tone before he charged towards the other side of the bridge where the first formation approached, leaving the Assassin to take command of the militia. The Blacklight virus fully enjoyed the familiar thrill that rushed over his entire body as he morphed a hidden blade on each of his wrist.

Ratonhnhaké:ton was torn between admiring Alexander's bravery and cursing him of his recklessness, but he had to admit, the man's confidence was not just words, his skill had more than proven his prowess in battle. He handled the hidden blades with a deadly grace and the speed he displayed at slaying his enemies was both fearsome and remarkable. It certainly saved many men whose life would have been taken while they tried to replenish the necessary amount of black powder their musket needed. It brought him a small amount of satisfaction to see the Templar having trouble keeping his troops in formation while the one-man army slew as many as he distracted with his presence amongst them. He gave them a chance to fight back against the infamous Red Devil, as James Barrett had called John Pitcairn.

The Assassin did not know how long he had shouted his commands to the men or how long had this fight endured. Dust and smoke had long covered their vision, along with screams of pain and shouts of terror echoed in the area. After their group had exhausted the last of their remaining ammunition, he could hear Pitcairn shouted, 'Fall Back! Fall Back!'

The rebels were still tensed from their position and many did not dare to move from their spot until one of the men shouted victoriously, 'We did it! They're turning tail!'

Ignoring the cheers that spread like wildfire amongst the militia, Connor tried to discern Mercer's body from the opposite foggy river bank, but when he couldn't found the tell-tale black coat the man wore, he quickly crossed the bridge to the other side. What he found was as unpleasant as it was disheartening. Beyond the corpses of Regulars, there were innocents who got caught in a battle that they did not fight for and many young men who had volunteered to fight for the cause of the Sons of Liberty now lay dead on the road for the crows to prey upon their cold flesh, though none of them was Mercer.

'It takes a true monster to do something like this...' James Barrett remarked as he approached him, but the Kanien'kehá:ka was not sure he could completely agree with his comment, seeing that Mercer had slaughtered as many soldier as they did of the rebels and innocent bystanders if not more. What was worse was that the chance to eliminate one of the most important members of Templar Order had slipped through his fingers. 'At least they're gone.'

'I should have struck when I had the chance...' he replied bitterly as the sound of anguish of many still echoed in his mind. 'Do you know where Pitcairn could've gone?'

'Back into the withered bosom of the British no doubt – so that he might regroup and plan his next atrocity,' the man answered with a wry smile.

'I need to find him,' Ratonhnhaké:ton demanded urgently, he still might catch up to Pitcairn while he was still within the Frontier, he knew these lands well. All he needed was a direction and the threat he posed on the Colonists would be over. 'Every day I wait, more will suffer...'

'Chin up, friend,' Barrett said as he directed him to gaze at the survivors of the onslaught. 'Many who should've died today now live because of you.'

'And what of them?' Ratonhnhaké:ton inquired as he gestured at the bodies that littered on the forest's ground.

The Colonel sighed tiredly before he said, 'We do the best we can with what we've got.'

'It is not enough,' he admonished.

'Hm... It never is,' Barrett replied in a sardonic manner before he gave a few pats on his arm and left without another word.

Connor breathed angrily as he gazed on the road that Pitcairn and his army had taken, wondering if he could catch up to them if he started running now.

'Don't you dare go after them,' a voice muttered next to his right ear.

Out of reflex, he instantly extended his hidden blade and plunged on the approximated location where the speaker's face was supposed to be, but an equally fast hand shot up and closed around his wrist, keeping it in a firm grip and away from the owner of the voice. The Assassin only relaxed when he realized it was Mercer.

'Nice reflex, but not quite enough,' Mercer commented lightly before he gently let go of his wrist. The gentle manner he handled his hand with seemed strange for a person who could slay hundreds without the slightest hint of hesitation, but he then recalled that this man might be an associate of his Raké:ni. Perhaps it was his way to be respectful towards him?

'Not many can stop my blade,' he retorted as he stood straighter. 'You are the second person I know who is capable of such feat.'

'After Iskandar,' he clarified with a small smile. 'You respect him greatly, don't you?'

'He's my... father. Of course I respect him,' Ratonhnhaké:ton stated in a confused manner, not knowing what the man was getting at. 'He cares for me, he teaches me all he knows and he is my family.'

Mercer hummed softly as he took a few steps down the road and said in passing, 'If you care for him as much as he does for you, then try to keep yourself out of trouble.'

'An Assassin's duty is full of many perils,' Ratonhnhaké:ton countered.

'Then we shall meet again,' Mercer replied without looking back or stopping. 'Whenever you're in trouble, look for my shadow.'

A late and short chapter I apologize to those who have waited for it and I will hopefully have a longer one next time. Hope you have all enjoy the story so far.