Disclaimer - I do not own Assassin's Creed or Prototype, they belong to their respective owners.

Summer of Games and Shadows

May 1st, 1775

Alex snapped off the string between his fingers as he got up to take a look over the repairs he had made on the Assassin robe, where none of the stitches were remarkably apparent, he guessed having some female Assassins in his hive mind wasn't such a bad thing, they really knew how to keep their outfits presentable. It also helped him figure out what kind of uniform he could wear, Achilles had been nagging him for a while that he should stop wearing some normal clothing and get one of the coloured Assassin robes they had in store. The Blacklight had known that the robes varied between the Brotherhoods of different countries, some might go with the classic hooded outfit and others simply adapted their style to a specific dress code or accessory. He chose to forgo the hooded robe, even though he found it far more comforting to have something covering half of his head, and simply focused his style to blend in with the Colonists, that way he would look less conspicuous and he could easily slip in and out of the crowd than Connor could. Personally, he believed someone needed to update the style of the robes and make them less apparent in a crowd.

He focused his style to have a more sophisticated appearance: a simple grey shirt covered by a black waistcoat, a long black overcoat that reached his knees with a collar that was large enough to cover his face when he turned it up, a pair of grey breeches and he kept the brown-coloured riding boots. Out of boredom, he even carved a lapel pin from some leftover yew wood from Lance that held the Assassin's insignia, something that could identify him as a member of the Brotherhood should he be contacted by other Brothers or Sisters from other factions. No need to waste biomass to create something so small. There were two triangle shapes of the symbol placed in a similar fashion to that of the Freemasons' symbol and where the center should contained a decorative G was replaced by a tiny ivory stone, one that was polished from the tooth of a bobcat that Ratonhnhaké:ton had recently hunted down, an apparent fast devil according to some frontiersmen, well it was. Now its pelt was stored in the Kanien'kehá:ka's truck and another woven trophy was placed on his room's wall. Surprising how many beasts there were in the forest that no one but his boy could handle.

He flicked his bead-braided lock out of his line of sight and pulled back his small ponytail. It was still strange for him to have his hair this long, it was only shoulder-length, especially when he usually kept it short, but he had to keep up with the Colonial fashion and he would rather eat a nuke than wear a powdered wig. He gave the repaired robe a few pats to dust off some invisible dust before he took the Assassin outfit off the coat hanger and left the hidden basement, just in time too, because its owner needed it.

'Good morning, Raké:ni,' the Kanien'kehá:ka greeted him with a small smile.

'Good morning, Ratonhnhaké:ton,' Alex greeted back before he extended the Assassin robe back to the young man. 'I've fixed your robe. Do try not to get stab or shot by anybody.'

'No promises,' the Native American replied with a wry smile as he slipped back on his Assassin robe.

'A common trait you and your father have,' Alex murmured in slight disapproval, though when he realized what he had just uttered, he closed his eyes in shame. Yet the mention of Haytham's parental tie to the young man also made him realized that he had been avoiding that peculiar subject for some times now. He wondered why, seeing that he was their number one public enemy, he should be more aware of his every move. Gabriel and his men hadn't been able to find his whereabouts and his lackeys had yet to make any move. Well, Charles Lee was the exception, seeing that he was preparing to become the future Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army, which he would never become. Last thing he heard from Gabriel, the thieves were already plotting a dozen of ways to get revenge after they had heard him reading his prepared speeches out loud for the hundredth time in their base.

Thankfully, the Native American had not caught what he had uttered. It would have otherwise been a rather horrible and awkward situation that they might take another six months or so to resolve. He quickly pushed that thought away and focused on the fact that they actually had time to do something normal and non-Assassin related works. They picked up the fishing rods that they had dug out of the dusty cabinet and the small bucket filled with fresh worms the two of them had collected from yesterday's storm. That was very messy, but seeing the old man's indignant look when he saw them muddying up his carpet made the time spent on hunting the invertebrate creatures priceless.

At least, it's going to be a quiet month or two if we're lucky. Let the fat men finish their shouting matches before their big fanfare. Alex thought with a sardonic smile as they headed outside, where the sky was as clear as the ocean water with the sun shining brightly like a priceless jewel and the strong breeze coming down from the north kept them cool. It was the perfect setting for some "bonding" activities as Giry would often remark around this time of the year.

They had barely reached the small rocky path that led to a nearby river that was the nearest to the ocean, where the first batch of yellow salmons would pass through on their migration to further inland, before their little plan soon came to an abrupt end and his previous thought was shredded to pieces.

'Mister Connor!' a voice called out, making both men turned to see young Phillip bouncing towards them. The dirty blond-haired child could find excitement in the littlest things, even more so when he was given the chance to deliver letters and would often boast to be the best postmaster in Homestead, something every adult in their small community would simply agree with a light shake of their head, the boy could continue his daydreaming until he finally learned how to be a real postmaster. Sadly for Alex, in this case, the boy's presence with jubilation accompanying his steps meant an important letter had been handed to him and the only thing that was considered important within this month…

'Please tell me that letter did not come from someone with the name Adams,' Alex muttered to the sunny sky as Connor read the content of the letter, an actual invitation to attend to the Second Continental Congress, with a small courteous note that he should make haste to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and he could also bring a companion along if he so desired it.

'Tell Mister Summers to prepare two horses, we leave tonight,' Connor announced before he gave the boy a playful pat on the head who immediately ran to the small stable.

'You do know that this won't start until all the delegates arrive, right?' Alex remarked lightly, though he inwardly wished that he did not need to sit in and listen to those fat politicians' stupid speeches and irritating shouting matches. He would probably slaughter them all before the Congress ended. This was supposed to be their vacation before either of them had to face the music, in a very literal sense. Now they were going spent half of their summer sitting through a history slash politics class, they had no merit of whatsoever in attending this façade, even if Connor believed otherwise, knowing the Assassin, he took the invitation as a sign that the Sons of Liberty was willing to hear the pleads of the Natives should they require it one day. The virus' face darkened as he recalled that history had stated that every Aboriginal tribe got uprooted from their homeland by the newly formed American government that had used the sale of their lands to get back the money they had lost during the Revolution. Homeless, without any right in the new government or any representative to help them, they wandered as outcasts or got boxed into reserves. This situation had remained as such all the way to the 21st century and there were barely any kind of changes to their bleak life. He doubted anything he said would deter Ratonhnhaké:ton's current belief, he could only hope he would be able prevent the worst outcome that might befall on the Kanien'kehá:ka village.

Beside this was one of those stupid and boring meetings, he had more than enough experience in them, with many of them coming from the people he had consumed, he should be more than capable to survive the congress. So long that Charles Lee was not seated anywhere near Ratonhnhaké:ton, nothing bad should happen.

Before they went anywhere though, there was still the matter of the worms they had collected. It would be a waste to just throw them back to the ground. What should he do with them?

May 10th, 1775

Why did he even think that karma would be on their side? Of course, the seats they were given had to be right in front of Charles Lee. On their journey to Philadelphia, the virus had warned the Assassin that Lee might be attending to the Continental Congress and that he mustn't do anything that might give an opening to the bastard to have someone throw them out or, in a worse case scenario, get them throw into jail to be executed for whatever excuse he could make up. The reaction he had received was worse than when they had encountered Benjamin Church, the Assassin seemed to be readied to tear the skin off of the Templar by just hearing his name. Lee was the one who left Ratonhnhaké:ton with light Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from being strangled to near unconsciousness. It explained why he had flinched or nearly brought out his hidden blade whenever someone's hands were near his neck.

Alex occasionally gave Ratonhnhaké:ton's shaking wrist a light squeeze in comfort, hoping that his small action would keep his rage in check and partly wondering when they would finally call it a day, sitting next to James Adams was torture, because he spent more than three quarter of the time locked in a shouting match against the Loyalists within the Congress and the tricorn hat wasn't made to cover his ears from those annoying arguments. Charles Lee's snide remarks were not really helping and this guy was slowly crawling his way to the top of his kill list, something that hadn't happened in a long while, though that might have something to do with the fact that almost everyone on his kill list was already dead.

He barely kept himself from shouting "Thank god" when John Hancock finally announced that they would stop for the night and continued tomorrow. The Blacklight gave the Adams brothers a brief farewell before he dragged Connor out of the Pennsylvania State House, pointedly ignoring Lee's slimy existence as they walked past him from the entrance. They went just around the corner before the Native American pulled his arm back and snarled angrily in Kanien'kehá:ka, 'You should have let me kill him when we have the chance.'

'You know that we can't,' Alex interjected calmly as he kept them moving, not wanting to stop to allow anyone the chance to follow them back to their tavern. 'Killing him will not solve everything, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Everything he's said is to make sure to have witnesses. If he ends up dead, people will suspect us first. I can tell you that he makes sure his death will drag our name to the dirt and mark us as enemies to the Colonists before we even have the chance to celebrate his death.'

'He's right there, throwing insults at our allies and making snide remarks about our people, we're just supposed to ignore that? He's our enemy, Raké:ni,' Connor bit out as they made several turns around a couple of buildings. 'And several of the delegates seem keen to have him take command of the militia, if he does become the commander, than we have already lost this fight before it even begins.'

'Don't worry about that, he'll only be a third-in-command, at most,' the virus replied with certainty, a small smile making its way to his lips as he imagined the look the greasy haired Templar would wear once the Congress declared George Washington as the Commander-in-Chief.

'How can you be so certain he won't be the leader these men have been demanding throughout the meeting?' the young man questioned.

Alex stopped in his track, turning around to face the Assassin, and simply whispered, 'Trust me.'

The Kanien'kehá:ka looked conflicted for a second, almost readied to continue his argument, though he soon took a deep breath to calm his nerves, giving him a brief nod before he replied, 'I trust you, Raké:ni.'

Alex let out a small sigh as he placed his hand over the young man's head as he always did whenever Ratonhnhaké:ton was frustrated over something, though it had only happened during trainings, nowadays his temper seemed to have stretched over to his missions. He understood what he was feeling, he really did, but he felt more concern about his sudden change of behaviour more than anything else. The Assassin was usually level-headed and calm in many situations, now his emotions seemed more erratic than ever, almost like a snarling beast in a cage half of the times. He had thought about the drop of biomass he had slipped into his soup when he was sick, but he had designed it to target and eliminate the virus that the Native American had caught in his trip, after its job was completed, it would simply destroyed itself and he had made several double checks to make sure that there weren't any side-effect that might harmed or mutated him. There was nothing, no trace of it was left in his system other than dead blood cells that were previously infected by Blacklight. So the problem did not come from him. Then where did this sudden turmoil of emotions came from?

Wait a minute... Unnatural mood swings can be caused by an increase in hormones that equals to high levels of Gonadotropin-releasing hormone, which means an increase of activities in the pituitary gland and it also means high testosterone levels. Alex enumerated in his minds with a heavy sense of dread setting over him. Conclusion: puberty... and a late one at that.

This... was NOT what they needed. NOT AT ALL! With a war looming on the horizon, Connor's body had to hit puberty in times like this? Was everything in the universe trying to make things more difficult for him? Was it not bad enough? Fuck. Please keep your hormones in check. I don't want to have the TALK with you. Never ask me anything about it if it's not asking too much.

Ignoring his inner monologue, Alex calmly told him. 'Let's head back to the tavern now and rest up, it's going to be another long day ahead of us.'

As they marched towards the Tun Tavern, where they had a room reserved to them, courtesy of one Samuel Adams who was probably having some plotting to do with his brother back at the City Tavern that housed more or less every delegate in the Congress. He was not sure whether the owners of the establishment would think they were lucky or were currently bemoaning the fact they had to deal with arguing politicians under their roof. Business in Tun Tavern was slow to say the least, not many patrons were staying here, just enough to cover some of the cost if he had to hazard a guess, with a lone violinist in the corner playing a cheerful tune, though very few guests clapped and danced at the music. Well, at least it was quiet.

Alex was the first to step into the room and headed straight towards the small candle holder that was placed on the nightstand next to the bed, swiftly changing the nail of his index and thumb finger into sharp metallic claws and snapped them together to create the necessary spark to light the candle before letting them fade back into normal human texture. He turned around to study the small room they were given. It was tight, truthfully speaking. The room had two beds that were placed to form an L with the nightstand between them, the beds had already taken up half of the space in the room, the rest was occupied by a small table with some old chairs and a trunk was tucked in the corner. The virus went for the bed that was placed next to a window and left the one against the wall for Connor, knowing that he felt safer when he could see the entrances into the room. He, on the other hand, preferred being near a window, where he could make a quick exit whenever he pleased and he would be the first thing that any would-be assassins had to go through to reach the Kanien'kehá:ka.

He simply left his tomahawk against the bed frame and flopped onto the hard mattress, not even bothering to remove his boots, because he was officially too tall to fit the standard size bed, so he left them crossed against the wooden frame and simply brought his hands behind his head. He wondered why they should even attend to all these stupid meetings when none would really affect them. It was actually quite tempting to just leave the politicians to finish up their ridiculous shouting matches and simply come back for the Independence Day.

Connor had began removing his own weapons, though with a bit more care in his touch, placing them where he could easily grab them should there be any sudden ambush before he went to remove the Assassin robe and his fingerless gloves with a heavy sigh. Alex cocked an eyebrow at the tired look on the young man's face, it was like a completely different person had entered the room with him when minutes ago his emotions were boiling like an erupting volcano, and this was not a good sign on his mental health. Seeing the stress that covered him like a cloak, it made Alex wished he could actually act as any 20-year-old did, rebellious towards everything that spelled "rules" and uncaring of what awaited him tomorrow, not spending his nights with nightmares and fears for company and allowing the weight of his duties to be his bed sheet. Quietly, he left his bed to sit beside Connor who was burying his face in his hands, the tension on his shoulders weighted heavily onto his exhausted body. He hovered his hand over the tired Assassin's shoulder for a few seconds, he found the boy responded better to touches when he kept his hand slightly away from where it would be placed, it warned him and his tired mind that he would not be doing harm on his person. The tension on the shoulder seemed to stiffen even more when his hand laid on it, though the muscles soon slowly relaxed.

Alex wanted to promise him that everything would be fine and nothing bad would befall on anyone he was close to, but saying such thing sounded like an outright lie than any actual comfort he wanted to provide. He had the power to destroy everything that stood on the boy's path to his goal, he could easily serve every Templar' head on a silver platter as an offering to him, yet he did none of those things. He had bathed in the blood of thousands, enemies and innocents alike to achieve his goals in New York Zero. For some reasons, the prospect in accomplishing such things again filled him with a sense of unease and discomfort instead of confidence and relish. This confliction he was feeling was unusual and it was extremely unpleasant, though it was one he had encountered before, from Dana. The horrified look she wore once she discovered what he was doing while she was hidden within the walls of her safe house, the bloody deeds he had committed without her knowledge as he declared that it was what he was designed to be, a monster created to kill. The thought of seeing the same expression on Ratonhnhaké:ton, the teenage whom he had cared and protected was... saddening, if such thing was possible for him to feel.

Words were always cheap to those who did not want to listen to them, so he settled with just being this silent support for Ratonhnhaké:ton. He could say what was in his mind when he wanted to share them, a trait he was quite adept of, there was no need for him to force them into a conversation they did not want to have. Still, it was getting late, he should get every hour of sleep he could possibly have. Alex gently pat his shoulder and told him, 'It's late, get some sleep, Ratonhnhaké:ton. Some rest will help clear your mind.'

The young man let out a muffled sigh before he removed his hands from his face and nodded, Alex got off of the bed and was about to go back to his when he felt a small tug on his sleeve, he looked back at him with a questioning gaze. Connor muttered shyly, 'Can you stay? Until I fall asleep, Raké:ni?'

'Don't worry. I'll be right here,' Alex replied softly as he sat down on the floor and waited for Connor to slip under the bed sheet before he held his hand in his, though he was surprised by this sudden request, he did not really mind it as much as the first time the Kanien'kehá:ka had asked him. After all, both of them had this aversion to physical contact. He came to realize that Ratonhnhaké:ton, while he could act as mature and serious as any hardened veteran, possessed this innocent and vulnerable child underneath the metaphoric protective wall that was covered with thorns, one that only surfaced whenever his curiosity was piqued or when the strain of fear became too heavy for him to bear in silence. Just like any child who was scared, they would seek comfort from their family, often from a parental figure, something that the virus was not, but he was willing to act that part if it helped him sleep better.

Judging by how fast he had fallen asleep, he was dead with fatigue. The virus breathed out softly as he ran his thumb over the lax hand that was still holding him, frowning slightly as his fingertips ghosted across faint and uneven skin patches that were tell-tale signs of scars, albeit seemingly invisible to the naked eyes, he could easily find them through the sense of touch. Maybe he would know the whole story behind those scars one day. With all the carefulness and gentleness he possessed, he slipped out of his grasp and tucked the hand underneath the bed sheet. He got up from his spot and turned to face the window. The streets seemed quiet from here, but lights still burned brightly a few streets away. Leaving the sleeping Assassin on his own seemed unwise, though he doubted Lee was capable to get in to the room aside from the door, going through a window would mean he had to swallow his goddamn ego to do so, for someone whose pride was the size of the Himalaya mountain, there was zero chance he would go in through one structural weakness in the room and hired goons were idiots that only knew about front doors and back doors. So he repeated what he had done when he first met the Native years ago, blocking the handle of the door with a chair before he vanished into the night through the window. He needed some time by himself, to straighten some thoughts and plan ahead once more, perhaps salvaging was the better word.

The night was cool for him and the streets were silent, it allowed him to leave his feet on autopilot while he withdrew deep into his mind. So far, things were derailing from his carefully laid plans, keeping Ratonhnhaké:ton from the battlefield was nigh impossible unless he chained him down in the basement, which he doubted even the strongest metal on Earth could keep him from clawing his way back into the fight, his stubbornness and determination were a force of nature of their own, and preventing Mohawk Valley's future sale was equally impossible, even with Gabriel and Giry pulling some strings for him, seeing that the land had a seemingly infinite amount of resources for the Colonists to harvest and a great numbers of games prowled the area. Also, William Johnson's death had made some of the lesser buyers up their games in procuring the land, the number of fat merchants and rich idiots were piling up like crazy. It was almost ironic that the man's prediction was nail on the head. The Colonists would one day overrun the Native Americans for their plots of land, once they lose all supplies they could acquire from shipments that came from England. The one thing that could probably solve the latter problem was money and lots of them, Giry's help in that department was null and void, seeing that she had children to take care of, and Gabriel's share of the loot could only keep him afloat on his own, the number would never reach the amount that could top whatever offer the other buyers might throw in the auction. Unless...

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice someone was rounding around the corner until they collided. Out of habit, he reached out to steady the person as he usually did with Connor, though when his focus returned to him, he could barely hold himself back from cursing.

'Sonava–'

Haytham Kenway's hand instinctively reached for his tricorn hat to keep it from falling off of his head before he realized who he had just bumped into. Truly, Fate was indeed a cruel trickster. Its jest was as cold as the gaze he was locked in. He wouldn't be able to use his hidden blade, seeing that the forearm the weapon was strapped on was currently in Zeus' tight grip, and drawing his sword would be useless with them being this close to each other. Zeus looked unarmed, he couldn't see his tomahawk anywhere on his body, but he might still have a hidden blade on his free hand. He doubted it would make any major difference whether the Assassin was armed or not, he was more than capable to tear him apart with his bare hands. The only saving grace in this situation was the small group merchants and delegates on the streets and a patrolling squad of militia that kept his former friend from slaughtering him at this very spot.

Former... The word still held a bitter taste. It was too similar to what he felt when Ziio exiled him from her life. It was almost two years since that bitter conversation in the cold and he still had yet to rid of this horrid feeling.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded in a low voice, face mere inches from his. It was surprising to Haytham how much animalistic quality Zeus' voice possessed whenever he spoke in anger, though he quickly discarded such thought from his mind and simply glared back at him.

'Making sure my protégé isn't murdered or made a fool out of himself,' he replied curtly.

'Funny you mention that, seeing that he has no trouble playing as the fool,' the Mohawk countered sarcastically. 'I guess I see why he has been Braddock's lapdog before he joined you. Birds of a feather flock together after all.'

Haytham's lips thinned slightly and unconsciously tilted his head downward to hide his face with his hat, while he still believed that Charles held great promises to become his successor as the next Grand Master, he knew his subordinate was lacking in terms of accepting men and women of different origins and background, especially those of Native ones. His vision of the Order was too narrow-minded. He could barely tolerate being in the same room with their Native allies and had spent many times taunting them as if they wouldn't notice his unsubtle mockery. If it weren't for the respect they held for him, Charles would not have left the room unscathed that day. He knew Zeus' criticism was not without reason and his subordinate's antics were belittling the Order in more than one way. It seemed his words did little improvements in getting him to broaden his views for the sake the Order's future, for they needed help beyond the small and precise circle of qualities Charles sought. One could not nail something with a ladle, maybe a feather duster was a more apt metaphor for his student. Others had wondered why he did not pick another Templar. He had considered it once or twice, though his options were greatly limited as was the number of potential candidates. If he started with those within the inner circle: William Johnson had the mind of a businessman and a peacekeeper, though his impatience had led to his downfall and he lacked both in the skill to lead and inspire people to battle; John Pitcairn would have been the best candidate to succeed as the next Grand Master, while the British Major would be a great leader, his loyalty was equally divided between the Templar Order, the British Army and his family. It was difficult to say what he would choose if he was forced to protect one or the other; and Thomas Hickey... well, he would probably hasten the destruction of the Order with his "habits".

There were other Templar agents skilled in battle and armed with their own unique skill set, but many poured their focus on hunting down the Assassins, they did not possess the leadership talent he sought. They were not just Assassin killers just as the Assassins were not just Templar hunters. Their primary goal was to bring about a world of order and equality while the Assassins sought nothing but chaos in a world they saw as free. Freedom cannot keep civilization from falling to ruins.

There was someone else...

His loyalty to the Order was unquestionable, his skills were on par with his if not having surpassed it and beyond that, he was a good man at heart, something that would inspire people to fight for him and swear fidelity to him and his beliefs. He would have become one of the greatest Grand Masters in Templar history should he be given a chance. Sadly, his own peculiar history would prevent him from naming him as the next Grand Master and many would see him dead before allowing him to lead the Order.

No. Charles was the only plausible choice he had, just one that required time and further teaching, if his protégé ever managed to swallow up his pride to listen...

'Is something wrong, gentlemen?'

Haytham looked up to see a militia commander staring at them questionably, probably wondering if they were going to brawl or they simply appeared too suspicious to be left alone. The latter seemed more possible, seeing that Zeus hadn't let go of his arm yet and the wrathful gaze he was shooting at the man was not helping either. Sometimes, he questioned how his friend could join the Assassins, when subtlety seemed beyond his reach. He was simply blunt and direct, in words and action. Unpredictable at times, sure, though one could hardly consider that as an advantageous aid.

'No, my friend and I are simply arguing about which tavern we should head to, seeing that City Tavern is out of question, perhaps you might have a better suggestion, good sir?' Haytham smoothly lied.

The commander nodded with a look of understanding and replied in a cheerful fashion, 'Indeed, I do. You can try the Honeydew Tavern, it's small, but they offer the best drinks in Pennsylvania. It's the last building on the left.'

Haytham thanked the man with a dip of his hat, making a subtle jerk with his arm to make sure that Zeus did the same, which he did curtly before he reluctantly released his arm. The Native Assassin followed him closely and remained in arm's reach, probably to make sure he did not try to escape, not that Haytham had the intention of doing such thing and he knew too well the speed which he possessed, he had little to no chance of whatsoever to escape with his life intact, at best, he probably still had a limb or two intact. Besides, there was something important that he must discuss with him, a matter that could easily affect this long blood-feud between Assassins and Templars and the fate of this would-be country. A small place with a roof was far better than a dark alley for their discussion.

The suggested tavern had a very welcoming atmosphere and there were enough people in here that two more strangers wouldn't be noticed by the crowd nor would their conversation be overheard by accident. Haytham headed toward the sole table that was tucked in a windowless corner and half hidden by the stairs, they wouldn't be spotted by any familiar face unless they walked up to their table. A barmaid soon came up to their table and asked if they wanted any drink.

Haytham ordered the Honeydew Warm Ale, a specialty of the tavern, while Zeus simply asked for water, though judging from the frown he wore, he doubt the drink would be touched. They sat in utter silence, barely paying any attention to the chatters that filled the tavern or the music the musicians were playing. The Templar took some time to study the Assassin, he found himself to be slightly impressed by the man's sophisticated appearance, unlike in their previous meetings where the Native's roguishness was a far more apparent trait than anything else. Now he could easily be mistaken for some rich businessman. He guessed Father Time did change something in him, just not his body, for he still retained the same youthfulness that could make men of his age jealous. Once their drinks arrived and the barmaid left to serve the other customers, the Mohawk instantly jumped to the point, 'What are you playing at Haytham?'

'I'm not playing anything, Zeus,' the Grand Master replied after he had taken a small sip of his drink.

'Really?' the Assassin intoned as he leaned against his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.

'Is it difficult for you to believe that I simply wish to speak with you?' the British countered.

'After the way we've taken our separate path last time? Let me think. Yes,' Zeus answered with the same dry sarcasm he seemed to have developed from his bitterness against the Templar Order.

Well, I guess I shouldn't have expected this to be easy. Haytham mused in exasperation before he set his ale aside and said, 'I am in need of your assistance.'

'A Templar is asking an Assassin for help? Whatever is the world coming to?' the Assassin remarked sardonically.

'I understand your mistrust towards me,' Haytham continued as calmly as he could.

'Understatement of the year.'

'But believe me when I say the matter I need your help with will affect both Templar and Assassin alike, including the Natives and Colonists for that matter,' he explained seriously, ignoring the unimpressed gaze Zeus was levelling at him with. 'I had been contacted by one of the Precursors. She's warned me of a threat that will affect this world.'

Zeus rolled his eyes in utter exasperation as he leaned his head back and scoffed tiredly, 'You are all damned obsessed with this whole spirit business.'

'You don't believe in the existence of the Precursors?' he questioned with a raised eyebrow. The Assassins had been contacted by them throughout their history and it was one of the reasons why they were obsessively gathering every Piece of Eden they could get their hands on.

'Let's put it simply as I don't believe a word of someone who is dead eons ago. Spirit or not, I only trust my instinct and what I see with my own eyes,' the Mohawk answered. 'What the others think is their business and it has nothing to do with me.'

Haytham did his best to ignore the sudden wave of fatigue that washed over him as this conversation seemed to keep pulling into a tight corner and not going where he needed it to, he guessed he should just get to the point like Zeus did than trying to explain how the information came to him, he could do that if the Assassin was willing to cooperate with him. 'The threat she speaks of is a monster. It looks like a mortal man, but it has sharp metal claws for fingers, its limbs were twisted flesh and its body is constantly pulsing in a red hue.'

He would have continued with his description of the creature if he had not noticed a rather curious expression on Zeus' face. Surprised. He looked surprised by his words. Something he had not seen on his face before, for he always possessed this gaze that told people he was smarter than anyone within the vicinity and nothing ever perturbed him. Sometimes his outlook on life and events that happened around him was almost like that of an old veteran, who simply watched the events unfolded before him with a bored expression, because he had already seen it repeatedly. This also told him that he had some knowledge concerning this creature. A part of him was both pleased and relieved at the same time, to finally be able to find some information on this monster that none of his sources had managed to discover. He had long ruled out recorded texts, while there were many myths and legends of monsters that devoured the living, none actually matched the image of the creature he had seen in his vision, he had tried to find more information through his Native allies, though neither them nor their own tribe had ever heard of such creature before. There was also the fact that the Precursor, Juno, told him that he should lure it to the Sacred Cave, meaning that it lived on this land, possibly near the Mohawk Valley and the only people who knew the lay of the land and its legends were Zeus' tribe. Of course, he had no way to contact them without having a few arrows aimed at him after Johnson's failed negotiation.

At least, he finally had a lead on this monster. Now the question was, how much did he know and how was he going to convince Zeus to share his knowledge with him? First he needed confirmation that he had known the existence of this monster, so he stated in a matter-in-fact manner, 'You know of this creature.'

The surprise was quickly replaced by anger. Perhaps anger was not the right word for the expression Zeus currently had, it most certainly held the sharp edge of hostility, but it was not anger.

'This conversation is over,' the Assassin announced coldly as he stood up to leave.

With a speed he did not know he still had, Haytham's hand shot up and caught the Native's wrist before he could move away. It might be his determination to get to his goal that had helped him or a sense of desperation that he had kept buried had suddenly surfaced. It did not matter to him, because what was important was keeping Zeus from leaving until they reached a form of consensus. He... needed this alliance, because he had no one else he could truly rely on, with many of his subordinates believed he was on a fool's errand in his search for the Precursor's artefacts and several of them focused solely on the most apparent threats.

'Let. Go,' Zeus muttered coldly as his eyes narrowed.

Haytham felt a shiver ran down his spine, the same feeling he had felt when the Assassin had first trespassed into his home several years ago. The sensation of facing a dangerous predator in close proximity, but he refused to be deterred by this fear, even if his body's entire instinct was shouting at him to let go and run for his life. He mentally steeled himself as he calmly continued, 'Alex, please listen to me. Whatever that creature is, it is a threat to both you and me and everyone around us. I need your help.'

The Mohawk bristled slightly at his words, but the coldness within his eyes did not diminish or waver as he whispered threateningly, 'IT is not a THREAT, unless you make it into one.'

Now it was his turn to bristle in anger. How can the Native be so impassive at the news of a dangerous creature he had known was currently roaming out there in the wild and preying on innocents? And why was he making it sound like it was his fault that this thing might start attacking people? He was simply the receiver of the message not the bringer of this coming calamity! He bit out angrily, 'How can you be so certain that it won't attack anyone or it isn't already attacking some small village? Are you going to let it destroy your tribe and kill the loved ones you've claimed you want to protect?'

Haytham knew he had gone too far and he berated himself for losing control, jeopardizing both his mission and endangering himself needlessly. He was certain that he would find himself at the end of a hidden blade the moment when Alex grabbed him by his collar, but he did not end his life nor did he inflicted any injury on his person out of spite. It was strange to say the least, seeing that Zeus favoured physical retributions above all else on his enemies. Instead he simply looked at him straight in the eyes and warned him, 'Last chance, Kenway. If you know what's good for you, leave this whole wild monster chase alone. Trust me. The less you know about it, the better.'

The Templar would have argued, but two of Alex's words had surprised him. Trust me, he said, something that he had never thought he would hear from him. Just like his name sake, Zeus, his presence simply commanded people to obey him, he did not need trust nor would he ever demand others trust him, you either followed or not. To hear him say those words, it unnerved him, not just because of the heavy weight of seriousness carried by those two words, but also the sense of contentment that filled him, something that he shouldn't be feeling. Perhaps it was because of his lack of real companionship that made those words affecting him greatly. He quickly pushed the unnecessary feeling to the farthest corner of his mind and refocused on his current task, he might still have a chance to negotiate with the Assassin. What they lacked was trust between them, which was why Zeus did not feel incline to share any information with him. A mutual trade seemed fair, though what he had in mind for trade posed a great risk for him. Still, if he managed to secure this temporary alliance, the risk would be well-worth it in the end.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he finally announced, 'Then I would like to propose a trade with you Zeus.'

He could hear the gnashing of his teeth as Zeus hissed out angrily, 'Did you not hear a word that I say?'

'You want to know more about how I come upon this information and the Precursors themselves, am I correct?' Haytham calmly redirected their conversation, inwardly smiling in victory at the sight of the small strain at the corner of Zeus' lips. The Mohawk might be skilled in hiding his emotions at times, but anger often developed cracks in his otherwise emotionless mask. 'I will tell you everything that I know of the Precursors and offer some other information in trade if you share what you know of the beast with me.'

Sometimes, it was best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, even if the consequences might led to a certain amount of revolt against his rule, though he was confident that he could keep this partnership of theirs a secret from the rest of the Order, so long that they remained discreet in their venture. Ever slowly, Zeus released his hold over his collar before he took a step back with his eyes speaking levels of his displeasure at the situation he was caught in. Haytham released a breath he didn't know he was holding as he smoothed out the wrinkles on his coat before he offered his hand to the Assassin and asked, 'Do we have an accord then?'

Instead of taking his hand, Alex shoved it aside with a light flick of his wrist, opting to lean close to his ear to whisper one last warning. 'Do not think that by accepting this deal means I won't kill you Haytham. What your men have done to my family and home is unforgivable. If you want to die so much, then be my guest. Do not expect me to save you from the grave you're digging for yourself by messing into this monster story.'

With that, Alex left without another word, leaving Haytham to contemplate his last words. The Grand Master watched the Assassin marching out of the building. He soon sat back down and nursed his now cold drink, staring into the faint reflection within the liquid, he wondered out loud, 'What is it that you are so afraid of Alex?'

Alex's lips remained a thin straight line as he carefully slipped back into his and Ratonhnhaké:ton's room, quietly closing the window once more before he settled himself on his bed. The Assassins in his mind were roaring in great disapproval of his decision in letting the Grand Master escaped his clutches again and forming an alliance with their sworn enemy, no matter how many layers of mental walls he formed between him and them, their words continued to reverberate within his mind, like waves from the endless sea hitting the rocky shore. Compared with what he was currently facing, their complaints were nothing than a group of trapped bees in distress. Someone knew of his existence, the existence of Blacklight, something that shouldn't be possible. He had been discreet for the past decades, he rarely consumed anybody nowadays, it was impossible for anyone to accidentally spot him doing such thing, even at the Johnson's dock, he was extremely careful when picking off his target one by one. Now Haytham had somehow been warned of his viral existence by a spirit of all things.

The humanoid virus sighed tiredly as he pressed the palm against his forehead, letting the back of his head rest against the window as he stared at the cracks of the wooden ceiling. A universe worth of questions were floating within his mind and he couldn't find an answer to them. Perhaps it was time that he really did pay some more attention into this whole spirit business, closing his eyes in concentration, he let himself be drown into the ocean of information that was created from those he had consumed, starting with the one source that had a direct contact with a spirit. In the consumed Ratonhnhaké:ton's memories, he had shown him that he had once held an artefact that connected his soul with the female spirit that slumbered within the crystal ball their clan possessed. The object had been past down from one generation to the next, each Kanien'kehá:ka who came of age would hold this sacred item and received the wisdom the spirit had to offer to them. It was apparent enough to him that the spirit was waiting or searching for a specific person, because her words to him were dismissive to say the least, almost like an act that she had played for more time than she cared to count. Then there was the Assassins' history with these spirits, Ezio Auditore, the Italian Mentor of the Renaissance age was the first Assassin to encounter them. Apparently, these spirits were supposedly beings that had came before mankind, their precursors as Haytham called them, a race of humanoid that got obliterated by a great calamity before mankind ruled the Earth. They had all died off, leaving nothing but relics of their time behind, objects of great power that the Assassins and Templars had came to call Pieces of Eden and some that were simply message in a bottle, containing bits of information that no one had so far been able to make sense of.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Alex wrenched himself out of the sea of information. There were still too many unknown factors in this whole business and none of them could explain how in the world could a dead woman of another specie, who by the way was dead at least thousands of years ago, knew of his existence, he did not officially exist until 2012 and that was a few centuries from now. How the hell did she know him if her message was recorded eons ago? How did she manage to send this information to Haytham and why him of all people? Breathing heavily through his nose as he reigned in his boiling emotions, not wanting to accidentally break something and wake Ratonhnhaké:ton up, in a very violent fashion, he barely had enough sleep of his own nowadays, he did not need to make his night any shorter. A faint whimper drifted in the air, causing Alex to snap his head up in full alertness before his eyes settled on the sleeping form of the Kanien'kehá:ka.

Another nightmare... Alex thought morosely as he went to kneel by the bedside of the Assassin, gently brushing his left hand's fingertips against that of the Kanien'kehá:ka's and watching with a heavy heart as the boy's hand instantly held onto his fingers tightly as his face contorted in fear.

'Ista...' Ratonhnhaké:ton whimpered in his sleep with unshed tears on his closed eyelids.

Alex stiffened slightly at the word, eyes downcast before he lightly brushed the tears off with his free hand. The virus wished he had the ability to prevent the young man's worst memory to haunt him in his sleep without causing some irreversible harm to him with his virus, but he was incapable in accomplishing such feat, even he couldn't modify himself to block out the mind of his victims or some of their memories. The only thing he could do was watching over him and be by his side until he finally woke up. As he watched over the sleeping Kanien'kehá:ka, his mind strayed back to Haytham and his monster chase, especially the part where he had demanded if he did not care that his family and friends get devoured by him.

The thought drew a tired sigh out of Alex as he absentmindedly ran his thumb over Connor's hand and thought sombrely. How do you protect your loved ones from the very person they love?

I apologize for the huge delay of the chapter. For personal reasons, I have been having troubles to complete it and I barely even have any time to write, but I wish everyone a Merry Christmas and hope that readers who have been looking forward to the update of this story have enjoyed this new chapter of Alex's story. I thank all who have left reviews and have added this story to their favourite list. Thank you for all of your support and I hope you will continue to look forward to the next chapter.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!