Assassin's Creed: Modernity - Book 1

Interlude: Operation New World Part 3

Location: ONW HQ

Time Zone Unknown 14:53 Date Unknown

Mission Assignment

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Dakota, York, Jersey, Utah, and the Chief stood around the table in the war room. 

"Even though you failed to achieve your previous mission objective, I am tasking you with another mission. You will be retrieving the Sarcophagus from the Templars. It is being held at the San Fransisco Docks."

"So what are the dimensions and weight of the Sarcophagus?" York asked.

"We don't know," the Chief said, signaling for an end of that topic.

"Do we know what's in it?"

"Yes."

"Then how do we not know the size and weight?!" York asked, bewildered. "And how will we know which one it is?"

"I'm sure you've brushed up on your Pieces of Eden history. It will be similar to those."

York huffed, frustrated. "Do we at least know how much resistance we'll get?"

"A lot."

"Enough to send your little puppy dog after us?" Dakota demanded.

"Dismissed."

The team walked out onto the helipad. Arkansas, their pilot, was directing the ground crew. She was prepped to fly, with her helmet and uniform.

"Move that crate over there!" she yelled, pointing at a group of five crates.

"Hey, Ark, how long till we can get off the ground?" York asked.

"Just a few minutes. Wrong crate, moron! And I said to put it over there!" she said, pointing in the opposite direction. "So what's the mission?"

"We're retrieving an artifact."

"How big is it?"

"That's what she sai-"

"Jersey, shut up!" York yelled. "We don't know the size or the weight. Or what it looks like."

"Well that's just great. No, you idiot, just put the crates back over there!" she added the last part for the ground crewman. "I think we're good to go."

The four Assassins pulled on their hoods as they climbed the ramp to the twin engine helicopter. The blades slowly picked up speed as the ramp closed. 

Location: San Fransisco Docks

PST 12:05 Date Unknown

Mission: Retrieve the Sarcophagus 

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The ride had been relatively smooth. Ark came over the radio and announced that they were minutes away from the drop zone. Dakota joined her in the cockpit.

"So what's our plan of entry?"

"You don't know?" Ark asked, bewildered.

"Well, we don't know anything else about the mission, so why start here."

"That is some crappy logic. But . . . I guess I've always wanted to just cut the engines and let her drop. And the heavy smoke would cover our approach."

Dakota nodded. Jersey strode up to the cockpit. "What's our plan of approach?"

"We're going to cut the engines."

"Wait what!? That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard! Aside from 'New Coke.'" Ark ignored Jersey's comment and cut the engines. The helicopter went silent and the only sound was the air rushing past outside the cabin. 

"Why would you do that!?" Jersey yelled. 

"Hey Jersey, do me a favor." Ark said. She pressed a button and a door closed the cockpit off from the cabin.

"Thanks." Ark eyed the elevation display as the ship plummeted. "Well, you guys better get going."

Dakota opened the cockpit and joined the rest of the team. She grabbed an assault rifle and strapped it to her back, like the others had. She also grabbed four pistols, putting two in the holsters on her hips and two in the holsters on her chest.

"Alright," Ark said over the intercom, "Go in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-" She started the engines and the blades slowly picked up speed. Their descent halted and the ramp opened.

"How far up are we?" Jersey asked, nervously. 

"Don't know." Dakota yelled as she jumped out. 

She grabbed one of her custom pistols and shot it at the ground. Foam instantly erupted from the canister. Dakota landed in the foam mat and instantly jumped out, firing at any guards she saw.She quickly emptied two of her pistols with deadly precision, wounding or killing Templars with almost every shot.

The others were not far behind her, landing in their foam mats and quickly going on the offensive. The team split into two, each group sprinting for the nearest cover. Dakota and Utah were pinned down behind a shipping crate. As she peered around the corner, a sniper nicked her shoulder. Dakota barely noticed the injury in the heat of the battle.

Dakota turned on her com, "York! Jersey! We're pinned down by those snipers! We need you to take them out!"

York sighed as he leaned on the shipping crate he used as cover. "Yeah, no problem Dak. It's not like I'm paired with the second worst fighter in ONW. This should be a breeze!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Jersey looked at him with a hurt expression. "You really think I'm the second worst fighter?"

"No. I was being nice. You're easily the worst."

York crouched and ran around the far end of the crate. He sprinted across the small open space to the nearest crate, slowly closing the distance to the snipers perched on the roof of the main warehouse. Jersey followed close behind him as they covered the ground between them and the snipers. 

York peered around the last shipping crate. The snipers were still focused on Dakota and Utah. He raised his rifle and trained the holographic sight on the nearest of the two snipers. He took a deep breath and Jersey did the same next to him.

"One, two, three!" The two fired milliseconds apart and shot the two snipers. One keeled forward and toppled off the roof. The guards on the ground instantly swung their fire towards York and Jersey.

Dakota and Utah dove out of cover and rolled coming to a kneel. They opened fire on the Templars, who still had their attention on York and Jersey. The two Assassins mowed the Templars down like a hot knife through butter. Hearing footsteps and the roar of an engine, Dakota and Utah booked it to the warehouse where York and Jersey were waiting. 

Jersey was attempting to open the large doors. York and Utah joined him, slowly pushing the door open enough for them to slide through. The Templar reinforcements came around the bend just as the Assassins slipped into the warehouse. 

The afternoon light poured through the windows under the high roof of the ware house. Dozens of crates were stacked at varying heights and intervals.

In the center of the space stood a hulking man. He was at least two and a half meters tall. He wore a full metal suit painted black with flames designed on the plates. The beast carried a mini-gun with the ammo belt trailing into a large backpack.

Jersey tilted his head and his brows drew together. "What the hell is with guy?"