Chapter 1: Yours, Not Mine.

Review Replies

SuperShadic2002: Okay, not even going to lie, I would honestly love to play this if it were ever made into a game. Then again, I've played literally all of the rest of Assassin's Creed, but still. You guys did real good with this one.

Dragon Emperor0: Thanks. We try. Originally I thought that our assassin character should be a descendant of Conner from Assassin's Creed 3, maybe a grand kid or something like that. But then I ran it by a couple of my friends who also played the games and thought it was too obvious. So I went with a character based on Shin Malphur from Destiny instead. But I plan on having a grandchild of Conner be here as well. Maybe as a really important supporting character—or love interest. Haven't decided yet.

ThermalsniperN7: It'll be decided at one point or another. Either way, that grandkid will play a part in the story.

-Joshua's apartment, Manhattan, New York, a day later-

Joshua groaned as he woke up, blinking as he came to… and noticed a small furry body purring against his ear. Glancing to his right, he saw River pressing his chest against the side of his head as he purred contently. The man smiled a bit as he enjoyed the feeling, his hand moving to pet him for his cuteness.

'I love waking up like this…' He thought as he rubbed his cat's furry little head. After enjoying this setup he gradually woke up fully ten minutes later, noticing that Kali was sleeping on his chair again. Chuckling, he got out of bed and went to his cat's food bowl and put some food in it, the noise prompting them to rush to the source and eat up.

"Meow! Meeeeow!" The two felines started screaming as they ran up to their owner, Kali going over to the refrigerator and pawing at it, a sign that she wanted milk.

"Okay, okay." The man chuckled as he opened the fridge and got the gallon of milk inside out before taking out a small cup and placing it on the floor, which his precious sweetheart eagerly sat by. He then proceeded to pour some milk into it and upon filling it completely, Kali started drinking it happily.

River of course also tried to get some of the milk as well, which his housemate reluctantly scooted over to share. Joshua, meanwhile, was getting his breakfast ready, deciding to call one of the crew to get a feel of what the objective for the day was going to be regarding the Animus. But when he tried to get in touch with Calvin…

"This is Calvin. You know what to do. *Beep*" The answering machine on the other side said before beeping. The tall man's eye twitched indignantly at that.

"I hate it when I'm on the spot like this…" He sighed before calling Ororo, hoping he didn't get put on voicemail again.

"Hello, you've reached the mailbox of Dr. Ororo Tempest PHD. Sorry that I can't come to the phone right now, but be sure to leave your name, number and a brief message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as humanly possible. *Beep*." The machine said. Joshua facepalmed in exasperation. He really didn't enjoy voicemail very much, preferring to just talk about something while it was fresh in his mind before something else took its place.

Deciding to try one last time, he called Mael last. And this time, it would seem that the third time was definitely the charm. "Y-ello?" The man asked as the sound of a shower being turned off could be heard on the other side of the line.

"Mael, thank god. I've been trying to reach the others all morning but both Calvin and Ororo sent me to voicemail." The man said as he continued to eat his bowl of Coco Puffs. "Like seriously, I'm going cuckoo for Coco Puffs over her trying to figure out what we're doing today—lit-er-ally." He added.

"I get it. We'll be having a look through the memories of Shin Malfur to see what Precursor relic he was in contact with in his time." The historian explained as he stepped out of his bathroom, drying himself off. "Slowly, but surely, of course. We'll get there eventually." He added.

"Okay. And while we're at it, any idea why Ororo and Calvin aren't answering their phones?" Joshua asked.

"Well, Ororo usually answers pretty quickly. So she's probably already driving or in the shower right now like I was—or something along those lines." Mael explained as he started getting dressed. "As for Cal… he's a little less quick to answer, but one of the only reasons why I thought he wouldn't answer at all would be if Sarah was over and… Yeah, let's not get into that erotic rabbit hole this early in the morning." He continued as he closed his drawers.

"Good idea." Joshua agreed flatly. "Anyway, when should I be at the hideout for my first real session?" He asked.

"I'd say around ten A.M." Mael replied. Joshua looked at the digital clock on his oven and saw that it was 8:45 A.M.

"Sounds good. I've got time." He replied as he finished his cereal. "See you then." He added before hanging up, and noticed his cats looking at him as he looked back at them. "Don't look at me, it was his idea, not mine." He told them.

(Elsewhere)

Meanwhile in the condo next to the team's hideout, the bespectacled Calvin was busy giving himself a once over in the mirror while trying to choose which one of his necklaces to wear that particular day with his orange Big Texan Steak Ranch shirt, wrangler jeans, boots, flannel over shirt and brown belt.

Settling on his porcelain horse disc necklace, he then looked at the mirror as the bed behind him came into focus—revealing it to be in shambles. Pillows on the ground, fitted sheet right top corner being undone, comforter at the foot of the bed and disheveled. And under the bed sheet—still trying to catch her breath as the sweat she just worked up started to disappear—was Sarah, her hair a mess and her nude body being thankfully covered.

Sitting up, the blonde looked over at her boyfriend. "You know, not using a condom just then was seriously risky—love, you know that don't you?" She told him as she got out of bed.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry about that, sweetie." The bespectacled man sighed as he turned and hugged her. "But, I don't think you were all that upset about it, were you?" He asked, kissing her cheek.

"No, not really. I like how you fill me. It completes me." She smiled back, returning the gesture.

(Later)

"Alright people, let's get to work. Neither time, nor the Templars, are gonna wait for us." Ororo said as the team walked into the hideout.

"Got it." Joshua nodded as he finished a MET-RX protein bar so he wouldn't go hungry mid session. He was dressed in a black shirt and dark blue jeans with his usual sneakers and his heavy jacket.

"Alright, so the first scene or sections you'll probably be seeing is Shin's childhood. Long before he becomes an assassin or comes in contact with the Precursor artifact. So don't think too hard about finding anything just yet." Sarah told him.

"You'll probably be dropped somewhere along the timeline of 1846 or 1857. So just keep an eye on things." Mael added as Joshua sat down in the Animus 2.0.

"So at best, I'll probably see some frontier hunting memories or something of the sort. Got it." The second tallest man in the group nodded as Sarah got things ready.

"Okay. Initializing synchronization with Shin's profile. Standy by." She said as Joshua's vision slowly went white.

Animus Synchronization in Progress. Please Standby.

Synchronization Complete. Resuming Last Saved Session.

Genetic Memory Match: Shin Malphur

Searching for closest Memory Cluster…

Memory Cluster Found. Commencing Mental Merge...

-Palamon, Wyoming, 1856-

In the more open side of the woods around the town of Palamon, Samson Malphur was sitting on a tree stump with a now fifteen year old Shin. And they were working on learning how to properly clean and care for a Winchester lever action rifle.

Shin now looked a good bit older, having mixed features that seemed Chinese and European in appearance which he got from his mother and father respectively. With dark black hair and a pair of almond shaped blue eyes that made him look almost like a Siamese cat. His body was also well built for someone his age, which came from his chores of chopping wood, moving bales of hay and hauling around sacks of livestock feed that weighed anywhere from upwards of fifty to sixty pounds each.

"Okay… Barrel's clean on the inside. That should cover it, right?" Shin asked as he finished cleaning up the gun.

"Did you check the chamber to make sure it isn't dirty?" His father questioned.

"Yeah. I checked on that after I removed the barrel for some more thorough cleaning. Glad I did, cuz there was quite a bit of dirt in there." Shin replied with a nod.

"Good, good. Now, show me how you're supposed to put the gun back together. And remember, take your time." Samson instructed.

"Right." Shin nodded as he slowly put the rifle back together, making sure to spot anything out of place as he went along. After ten slow minutes, the teen had put the rifle back together and it held firm, indicating that everything was where it was supposed to be.

"Very good." Samson nodded in approval as he looked the gun over. "Now… let's go get us some dinner." He beckoned as he turned to go into the woods.

"Good. I could go for bear stew right now." Shin nodded with a smirk as he loaded the rifle up.

As if fate thought that it would be funny to pull a cruel prank on the boy for saying so, a deep growl and roar came from behind them as a very large Grizzly Bear suddenly came stomping towards them. Having discovered them in its territory after it went to get some water at a nearby river.

Cursing, Shin chambered a round but before he could take aim, the bear charged at him. Samson quickly intercepted the creature and slugged it in the face, causing it to glare at him as the man glared right back at it.

"Dad, look out!" Shin yelled as he took aim and fired a bullet at the bear, hitting it in the head and causing it to turn around and face him.

"Shin, don't! You can't take that thing! Just shoot to distract it and run!" His father yelled at him in worry.

"Don't worry dad, I've been practicing for this." The boy said as he reloaded several bullets into the rifle before twirling it in his hand. With a growl, the bear started to run at Shin with every intention of mauling him. Shin just smirked and started shooting it as quickly and carefully as he could.

First three shots hit the left front leg, then another three hitting the right leg, causing it to slip and fall over and start rolling towards him—allowing him a shot at its chest, which he reloaded one round quickly into the chamber and let it rip. He shot five straight rounds into the animal's chest and rolled out of the way before it could fall on top of him.

"And that's how we have dinner tonight." Shin said in a cool tone while his dad gaped at him. Sure, he wanted to scold his son for not listening to him to run to safety, but he couldn't deny what Shin had just done was truly amazing.

"Son." The man said in a stern tone, which admittedly made the boy tense up almost instantly. "Where did you learn to do that?" He questioned.

"Uh… F-from some of the other guys in town." The teen replied with a gulp. This made the man cross his arms before sighing.

"Well, come on. This bear isn't going to put itself away." Samson sighed as he whistled and called his and Shin's horses over, who were a Dapple mare named Pepper and a Kiger Mustang stallion named Spirit respectively.

Tying the carcass of the dead bear to the horses and placing it on a dragging rig, they hopped on their steads and started riding home.

Memory: "Don't Poke the Bear" - Complete.

Searching for Corresponding Memory Cluster…

Memory found: "Yours, Not Mine".

Synchronizing...

-Palamon, Wyoming, 1856-

In the actual town of Palamon, Shin was busy trying to help his father get the necessary supplies from the many shops and stores in town. Loading bags and boxes into a square covered wagon they had with them. It was at that moment that Shin caught sight of someone entering the town.

He entered the town in a slow walk, and Shin looked the man over. He had a black jacket over a green shirt, black gloves, blue trousers, brown cowboy boots and a black Reiner style cowboy hat. Additionally he also had silver arm bracers, and greaves over his boots, and Shin almost swore that he saw a chest plate under his vest and some sort of odd things on the wrists of his bracers.

The teen couldn't make out his facial features due to the hooded brown cloak he was wearing. What got his attention was the truly beautiful looking revolver on his hip.

The gun was larger than any pistol he'd seen before. It had a brown handle and a golden hammer with a gold and black barrel with a black chamber covered in gold engravings, and on the chamber it read "Last Word". And the handle had the longhorn skull symbol of the Fire Arms maker Tex Mechanica.

Everyone stared at the new arrival in silence, none moving as Shin felt his father clamp a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. After a bit, the sheriff arrived to give a formal greeting as everyone else watched. Shin's teenage impatience got the better of him as he shook himself free of his father's hand and made a short sprint up to the stranger.

The man looked at Shin as the boy ran up to him, taking his hood off, revealing his face to be rather similar to his father's. But he was much younger and had stubble on his chin and around his mouth where a beard used to be. His brown eyes were like that of a calf and he had two scars on his cheeks.

"Hey there, kid." The man said as got down to the fifteen year old's eye level, before taking notice of the the boy's knife, which was a Bowie knife with a deer antler handle. "Huh. Nice knife." He commented.

"Nice gun." Shin replied in return, which caused the man to chuckle.

"Oh this old thing?" The man asked as he took the piece out. "I got this custom made from Tex Mechanica, even saved a couple stage coaches with it too." He continued before smiling at the boy warmly. "Wanna give it a look?" He asked.

"Sure. Here, take a look at my knife if ya want." Shin nodded as he held out his Bowie for the stranger to take, which he did as he gave the young lad his hand cannon. Both looked over their respective weapons, Shin looking over the magnificent craftsmanship of the stranger's gun while said man looked over the knife with a very impressed look.

"Looks handmade." The man noted.

"My dad made it, he's a blacksmith, and gunsmith." Shin explained as he handed the gun back and took his knife back. "I'm Shin Malphur." He added.

"Jaren, Jaren Ward." The man replied as the two shook hands.

"Well, Shin, I guess this probably won't be the only time we see each other." Jaren said as he pulled his hood back over his head and under his hat. "Take care." He added before walking off.

Shin couldn't help but watch the man as he walked by, though one look at his dad and he knew that he was about to get an earful when he walked back. But he didn't really care, it's not like the man hurt him anyway—plus, dads were always protective. It's their job, after all.

(A few months later)

Days passed and Shin always continued to watch Jaren as he made his way around town. As it turned out, he was actually a marshal who was sent to investigate a possible conspiracy of corruption and collusion between the local sheriff and a group of interest to the government.

This sheriff, Logan Landen, was a man of the age fifty nine who had fought in the war of eighteen twelve against the British before becoming the magistrate and sheriff in Palamon during the Western expansion. But his time in the war left him bitter, empty almost, and it led him to govern Palamon with an iron grip that no one liked, but didn't have the means to oppose. And his nine deputies in particular were all from an odd group, a group that wore red crusader crosses on their arms.

Shin didn't know what the crosses were supposed to represent, but either way, they helped the sheriff maintain his grip on the place. He really hated them, and wanted nothing more than to kill them before offing Logan himself, but his dad told him not to. This, however, did nothing to snuff out his burning desire for justice in his home.

That was until one day, Logan's men came up to Samson in the local saloon, the Bufflo's Trace, and slammed the man to the bar, nearly causing him to spill his old fashioned cocktail.

"Ya know Malphur, we don't appreciate you not looking at our guns for us." One of the guys sneered.

"Yeah, how do you expect us to keep this place safe if our guns jam because you won't help us keep 'em up?" Another added as the first kept the man's head to the bar and a third pulled out his gun.

However, before anything else could be said or done, the sound of a blade being brought out could be heard as Shin came out of nowhere and stabbed the man holding his father in the side before ripping the blade free and slashing at the other two, causing them to back away.

"Gah! Damn brat!" The one he stabbed grunted as he staggered back to his colleagues.

"Stay. Away. From. My. Father!" Shin growled as he held his knife up, ready to stab any one of them who wanted to try their luck.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gunfight, boy?" The second asked as he pointed his gun at Shin, before he was suddenly stopped by a barrel being placed to the back of his head.

"Don't. Even. Try it." The Nick Cage-like voice of Jaren said as he glared at the men from behind them.

"This ain't your town, punk." One of the deputies sneered at the marshal. "Beat it." He added.

"It's not yours either, Templar scum." Jaren retorted as he glared at the three men and holstered his gun.

Shin and his father seemed confused as they watched the interaction before them. Templars? What did Jaren mean by that? This contemplation didn't last long, as the man's words caused the deputies all to look at him in shock—before a pair of long, slender and double edged blades slid out from under the marshal's wrists… And stabbed two of the corrupt enforcers in the throats. As the two men choked to death on their own blood, Jaren used the surprise to move on to the rest of them. Two by two, they fell until the deputy Shin had stabbed was the last one standing.

"You—You're an assassin!" The man exclaimed as he tried back away towards the door.

"That's right. And you guys are my targets." Jaren responded before in a blink of an eye, his blade connected with the stomach of the man, and he soon dropped dead. Retracting his weapons, Jaren said a small prayer over the corpses and closed their eyes—a sign of respect for the dead. He then turned to the townsfolk. "Tell Logan that I'll be waiting for him and his men in the courtyard at noon. He and I are going to have a few words." He added as he walked out of the saloon, leaving a grateful Malphur family behind.

"… That was an impulsive move, Shin." Samson told his son.

"If I didn't do anything, they would have shot you in the head." The boy retorted.

"And I'm glad I'm still kicking, but that could've gotten you hurt. Or worse." The boy's father stated.

"I might've risked getting hurt, but it's not my fault these deputies, if we can even call them that, never learned that being a dick won't make theirs bigger." Shin shrugged, which got some laughs from his dad and the people around them. Yeah, nobody really felt anything for their now dead oppressors.

(Later)

At high noon, Jaren stood in the town square as Logan walked out to meet him, the remaining nine of his deputies with him as he decided to try and belittle the marshal, making a show of it. Just to prove he was better. Samson and Shin watched off to the side, the former keeping a firm grip on his son to keep him from doing something stupid. The boy looked at his father, hoping he'd try to stop this, but one look told him that he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to.

"This isn't your home, Assassin. You and your Brotherhood don't belong here." The sheriff stated as he stood behind the nine Templars with guns trained on Jaren. He then proceeded to belittle the man for several minutes, with words that made the fifteen year old Shin's blood boil. "This is the Templar's town, ya hear?" He continued, almost forcefully as Jaren's hand went to the Last Word.

"Not anymore." Jaren retorted, his words not offering so much as a flinch.

"Are those your last words, boy?" Logan sneered. The response he got was Jaren quick-drawing his gun and firing a shot into the Templar's head, causing him to fall on the ground dead as he stared into eternity.

"Yours. Not mine." The gunslinging Assassin retorted as smoke came from his hand cannon's tip. He then stared down the guns of the other Templars, who were completely unnerved. They all slowly lowered their guns, unwilling to test their luck against the man who took out their leader. "Now unless you want to end up like him, I suggest you get moving. Now." Jaren growled, causing the deputies to all start hightailing it out of the town like a bunch of cowards.

Shin, meanwhile, was let go by his dad and quickly ran towards Jaren and stood in front of him. His eyes were full of gratitude. "Thank you." He said, but got a head rub in response. "I know it's not my place to ask but… Can you teach me? That stuff you did earlier." He questioned.

"Hm… Maybe when you're older, and even then, I think your dad might throw a fit if I taught you in secret." Jaren replied, but the boy's earnest expression seemed to wear him down. "Alright, sure." He relented.

"Yes!" Shin exclaimed happily as he pumped his fist in joy.

Memory Cluster: "Yours, Not Mine" - Complete.

Searching for next cluster…

WARNING! WARNING!

Unknown Genetic Memory Fragment Discovered!

"Uh oh, looks like somehow, someone else's genetic memory somehow made it into Shin's corridor stream. But I can't figure out what it is." Mael noted as he looked at things from the other side of the Animus.

"We can purge it if you don't want to have it contaminate your search, Joshua. But it's your call, do you want to see where this stream leads?" Ororo asked.

"Let's have a look. It could show something of interest that might come in handy later." Joshua replied.

Unknown Corridor Selected

Synchronization in Progress. Please stand by…

-Deadwood, South Dakota, 1860-

Inside a saloon in the town of Deadwood, a man sat down at a table. A glass of a simple improved Whiskey cocktail was next to his hand. Said man was sitting in a tall chair on the corner of the bar, his entire body casting a shadow over everything around him—like a sickness, draining the cheerfulness of everything that passed through it.

Not much about his skin could be made out, but the little visible skin on his face said he was quite pale and had sickly green eyes along with black hair, which was just barely visible from under the hood over his head. The rest of his attire consisted of a tattered cloth mask on the lower half of his face, a black long sleeved shirt under some light looking armor, dark green gauntlets, black pants under dark green leg armor and what looked like army boots.

The most noticeable thing about him was the jagged looking hand cannon on his hip, sitting in its holster, a sick green orb glowing at the end of the barrel.

"Can I see what cha got there?" A random man asked the mysterious stranger as he sat down next to him. The stranger looked back at him, as if he either didn't understand or didn't hear the request. "Your cannon, can I see it?" The man repeated.

"I know you?" The stranger asked in reply, his voice sounding even deeper than Batman's, but slow and drawling with a sort of old nobl undertone.

"Not that I can see." The rando shrugged.

"And you want to hold my piece?" The stranger questioned, as if in a light mocking tone.

"It's just that I haven't seen anything like it." The bandit stated.

"No. You haven't." The stranger agreed.

"Looks pretty dangerous, then. That's for sure." The bandit nodded.

"Seems. Maybe that's the point." The sickly man responded.

"I suppose so." He shrugged. "Can I see it?" He asked. There was a pause between the two as the sound of idle chatter in the bar drowned out the remainder of the conversation before a second bandit sat down. "You hearing me?" The first asked.

"He asked you a question." The second added.

"Not likely." The stranger responded finally as he drank some of his poison of choice, showing that his lips were very dry and cracked, almost like that of a corpse.

"Where'd you find it?" The first bandit asked.

"Didn't find it. Made it." The stranger replied, but as he did, he soon felt a slow itch crawl up his arm to his hand, nesting in his trigger finger.

"Hell of a touch ya got there. So you're a smith, then?" The bandit asked.

"I look like a smith?" The stranger questioned sarcastically with a dryness that matched the appearance of his masked lips.

"Is there a problem?" The second bandit questioned, getting a shrug in return from the hooded figure.

"Doesn't need to be." He stated in reply.

"Good." The bandit replied. "Now, about that piece." He continued.

"Ever been to Luna?" The man interrupted, his question seemingly rather random.

"Uh, what?" The rando asked in confusion.

"The moon. Ever been there?" The stranger clarified flatly.

"Of course not. No one has." He replied, wondering where this was going.

"Is that a truth?" The man questioned.

"It's a fact." The bandit stated.

"Interesting that you make that distinction." The figure countered. This was followed by a rant by the bandit about him thinking they were nobody and mouthing off to people who were just making conversation.

"Seems we got a smart one here boys." The man stated.

"Experienced, rather than smart, honestly." The stranger retorted.

"Experience tell you to go mouth off to strangers trying to have polite conversation?" He asked.

"No, not really." The man responded.

"Then who do you think you are?" The second man questioned.

"According to your facts, nobody. Yet here I sit." The stranger stated. "But, if you insist on continuing, maybe we will." He added.

"What? Talk?" The first bandit asked.

"Have words." The sickly man replied ominously.

"You trying to get a rise out of us?" The man snapped.

"Not really." The stranger said, slowly pulling out his gun and setting it on the table. "Ever have a nightmare, thief?" He questioned.

"I don't have nightmares, I give 'em." The bandit retorted.

"You're a fucking cliche." The stranger sighed in disappointment. "The picture perfect bandit. The sound of your voice, things you're saying, the shade of the hard man you pretend to be." He continued.

"I ain't no shade. You don't believe me, I'll prove it to you. Right now—." The thief stated as he attempted to grab his gun, but was beaten to the punch by the stranger grabbing his own gun and firing, causing jagged, thorn-like bullets to fly out of the green glowing barrel of the pitch black gun… and three of the four bandits lay dead soon after—with the fourth on the ground, groveling in pain… with his legs shot off at the knees. Everyone else in the saloon screamed in fear and ran out of the place as the stranger grabbed the bandit.

"Sit down!" He growled as the man whimpered pitifully. "Sit. Down." He repeated slowly, as if speaking to a moron. "Look at what your friends did. This is what happens when you bore me. And I'm oh so very bored." He said.

"You—you're one of them. An Assassin, right?" The bandit questioned through the pain, noticing that the man had a single hidden blade bracer on his arm. But it was dilapidated, rusted, worn from miscare and unuse. Like it hadn't left it's sheath in decades. "One of… the good guys." He tried to reason with the situation as the man glared down at him.

"Supposed to be. Or, maybe I am. Maybe this is what good looks like." The green clad man growled as his gun bore down at the groveling thief he pointed it at. "Any more?" He questioned as his target whimpered. "You can tell. You wanted to see my prize. Look at it. Not many get such a close look. I used to think of it as a rose—focusing on its bloom. But now I focus on its purpose—like jagged thorns." He said as the bandit whimpered. "Whimpering won't stop what comes next." He stated. "Look." He hissed, forcing the man to look down the barrel of his gun. "Look at it!" He growled.

The green light of the barrel illuminated the face of the horrified bandit as the seemingly rogue assassin forced him to look at the gun and him—and the groveling man paled as he saw not a man, but a large living pale corpse. Like the fourth horseman, who rode upon a pale horse—whose name was Death—and that Hell followed after.

"You say you don't have nightmares." The personification of death continued. "But I've seen nightmares. They live in the shadows, I tried to fight them in their home, to try and help us fight back. But once you step inside those shadows, it's so hard to walk in the light." He added. "But—then again—maybe I just wasn't strong enough. Maybe… But I feel strong now." He continued again angrily, his eyes almost glowing as a dark smoke drifted around him. "You have no light beyond the spark of your pathetic life. But a spark is something, and now I'm hungry—it's hungry." He added again, pressing his gun even closer to his victim. "Open your eyes." He said once more.

"No, no, no…!" The bandit yelled before the trigger was pulled, and the man knew only darkness. This caused the image of the animus to suddenly start to desynchronize all at once.

WARNING! Desynchronization in progress!

Operator is advised to exit session immediately to avoid dangerous memory bleed!

Ejecting Operator 3. 2. 1.

-New York, Modern Day.-

Joshua shot up with a gasp, cold sweat pouring from his forehead as he reeled from what he had just experienced. Ororo was by his side almost right away, water bottle in hand and uncapped. The bespectacled man wordlessly drank some of its contents as he calmed his racing heart.

"What… the hell… was that?!" He gasped, eyes wide. "It was… It was like I was seeing through the eyes of the Pale Horseman!" He added as his heart finally slowed its beating.

"Sorry, Josh, sometimes our Animus tends to pick up random genetic memories from other people that are relevant to a particular ancestor we're looking at." Sarah told him apologetically. "This must be one of those occasions." She added.

"Well what the actual fuck was up with that gun? That thing was way too dark to be made by human hands." Joshua asked as he stood up.

"That's because it wasn't." Calvin said as he got up, taking a piece of paper that Mael handed him. "That gun, and that man. Were Dredgen Yor and his piece, Thorn. He used to be called Rasil Laziere and the gun used to be called Rose. A pistol given to him by the Brotherhood after a Templar damaged his arm to where he couldn't use his blade anymore." He continued. "But while he was looking for a piece of Precursor technology, he came across one of its Guardians—slew it, and grafted its tech onto rose…which then started to corrupt not just itself—but him as well." He added.

"Son of a bitch…" Joshua cursed as he took in the information. "What kind of tech did he even find that could corrupt him to that extent?" He questioned.

"From the guardian of the tech he was after? No idea." Mael shrugged.

"But he was supposed to try and retrieve a really important piece of invaluable tech for the Brotherhood: The Last Feather of Quetzalcoatl." Ororo explained.

"It's supposed to be capable of tracking and locking down other Precursor artifacts. We think Shin may have found and hidden it somewhere." Sarah added.

"And we want to get it before Abstergo and the Templars get it, right?" The descendant of the aforementioned gunslinger sumized.

"That's pretty much it." Calvin nodded.

"Okay then. Man, this is gonna be nuts." Joshua sighed to himself, face in his hands. "Hey, mind if we call it for the day? I think I've taken as much as I can for one twenty four hour period." He added.

"After seeing things through Dredgen Yor's eyes? I think now's a great time to stop for the day." Mael nodded in agreement.

"We'll pick back up on Monday." Ororo said as she got up. "So, let's all try and unwind this weekend and avoid getting too burnt out. Agreed?" She offered.

"I second that." Sarah nodded.

"Here here." Calvin nodded.

"That sounds really good." Joshua nodded.

"Same." Mael nodded.

"Well then, see you all then." The woman nodded as everyone started leaving. But before Joshua could leave, she stopped him. "Question Joshua, do you have any plans for the weekend?" She asked.

"Um, not really. I'm mostly a homebody, so I'll just be at my place the whole time. Why?" The taller man asked with a blink.

"Well, I was kind of wondering if you'd like to maybe… I dunno, go to dinner with me one day?" She suggested.

"U-um.. S-s-sure. Th-that sounds nice." Joshua stuttered in reply as he blushed at the fact he was basically being asked out.

"Great! So how about Saturday at say… Six twenty five in the evening?" The silver haired woman offered, seemingly glad that her method worked out well.

"That sounds good. Anything in particular I should wear?" The gunslinger's descendant asked.

"Just dress casually. I'm not one for fancy clothes, and neither are you, if I'm right." Ororo replied.

"Alright then, I'll see you tomorrow then." Joshua nodded as the two then took their leaves to go home.

Mission 1: Yours, Not Mine - Complete.

Next Mission: Jagged, Like Thorns.

Session Complete. Saving Progress…

Saved.

Dragon Emperor0: Well, that last scene was definitely a yikes moment. I'll say that much. And that scene with the bear would have made an awesome gameplay timing shot. Like the damage phases in metal gear.

ThermalsniperN7: True enough, and seeing through the eyes of the Grim Reaper if he was a gunslinger will do that to a person. Still, what the hell happened to corrupt a guy like him to that extent? I'm almost afraid of knowing the answer.

Dragon Emperor0: Me too. And in case you guys were wondering, we are toying with the idea of adding in activities for Shin to do in the story similar to the Homestead activities in AC 3 and things like the conquest system in Odyssey when the Civil War part rolls around. So let us know what you think of those ideas.

ThermalsniperN7: That being said, in case you guys were wondering what Shin will look like once he's an Assassin. Or what the main theme of this story is music wise, check out these links: /2fD0puS and /QOncv49VsmQ .

Dragon Emperor0: Anyway guys. See you guys next time.