Retribution (An Assassin's Creed III story)

Nine: Flinch

Connor

I pace under the tree where we last left the carriage, feeling my anxiety rise with every second. The carriage should've been here—but it isn't, as if it just vanished into thin air. I know I have to find Naomi, but just how am I going to do that in this vast city? I think of travelling alone back to the Homestead, with no money or transport and soldiers seeking me high and low. The prospect makes me shudder.

"Raton! Thank God."

I grin openly when I hear Naomi's familiar voice. Her hand clasps my arm, and the warmth from her touch is like a balm. Her grey eyes shine, mirroring my relief, and a smile makes them gleam even brighter. I feel like I should embrace her; I think that's what friends do when they are separated and reunited. But her hand drops before I can react, and she crosses both of them in front of her chest against the cold.

"I mean 'Connor'," she smiles, shaking her head slightly. "I should call you that in public. It'll take some getting used to."

This surprises a short laugh out of me. "You can still call me Raton if you want."

"Nah. Connor's easier."

"You two with Achilles?" asks a man, whose approach I did not see. I tense, eyeing him warily, and notice that Naomi has done the same. "Connor, was it? And Natalie?"

"It's Naomi," she replies flatly.

"Ah, my apologies," he says, pressing a hand to his chest. "I saw what happened at the Town House. A fine mess, that."

"Who are you?" I ask, jerking my chin.

"Samuel Adams, at your service."

The man holds out a hand for me to shake, which I don't. Beside me, Naomi seems amused. "Oh, he doesn't... uh-uh."

Adams recovers quickly, and offers her his hand instead. "Do you?"

"I do," she replies, and makes a show of shaking the hand firmly. I'm surprised she doesn't smirk at me in the process.

"Achilles asked me to get you out of Boston," Adams continues.

"He left us?" Naomi bristles in disbelief. "Oh, I'm going to have words with him when we—"

"The whole city's looking for you. He couldn't just pick you up and ride through the gates. They've set up checkpoints everywhere, and they're searching all transports. Wanted posters—" he gestures at the nearby tree, "—heralds announcing for civilians to be on the lookout—"

"What do we do?" I interrupt.

"You can take down those posters for a start. As for the heralds," he lowers his voice, pressing a bag of coins into my hands, "you can shut them up with the right price."

Naomi balks at the idea of bribery, but does not object. Instead, she marches to the nearest poster, and rips it off with a flourish. "They got my nose wrong!" she jokes, eyeing the drawing with distaste.

Her theatrics almost make me laugh. I walk past her towards another poster, nudging her with an elbow as I pass.

*

"I don't understand," Naomi says, false innocence dripping from her words. "Why can't we just board a ship and kill everyone in our way?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Because I still want to live."

"Spoilsport."

"Ah, there you are! I trust you've been successful?"

Naomi and I nod together. "Where are we going?" I ask Samuel.