Assassin's Creed: Enter the Animus

Memory 3: Connor

"What if we were to work together?" He huffed, standing still to avoid ruining any fresh footprints.

You snorted, "Together? Why would I ever want my name slandered alongside the likes of you and your kind," You sneered.

"Because Church is our mutual target; finding and defeating him would be much easier." He spoke with desparation, his expression showing he was sincere, but you weren't so effortlessly swayed.

"I don't need easy, and I certainly don't need to sign away my life. I don't work with Templars," you said, your frustration growing.

"Your assassin counterpart, Connor, has agreed to work alongside me."

"A 'father and son' duo? Be sure to write to me of how well that works out for the both of you." You held back the laugh of disbelief that threatened to emerge in Haytham's face.

"(F/N), I wouldn't ask for your help if it weren't beneficial for the both of us." He said finally, as though he was nearly done with his pestering but by now you'd noticed he had a few fair points.

You sighed. "What happens when Church is dead?" Your defeated voice bounced against the mostly hollow trees, your breath visible in the cool winter air.

"We part ways, fairly." His hands splayed out, palms up to show his vulnerability.

You glanced around the white trees, knowing you had to make a decision before Church escaped for good. You knew how persistent Haytham could be.

"Fine. But hurry up and find your horses, Church is on his way out of here." You gathered the slack reins between gloved fingers, your horse lifting its head as you pulled gently on the bit to stir him.

The two men called their horses and followed. Haytham rode ahead to scout for redcoats and Connor followed closely behind you. You could still see the wagon wheel indentations in the snow, otherwise you'd need to head back to town and earn more information which was something you wanted to avoid.

From ahead you watched Haytham's silver hair poke out from under his tricorn hat, scrutinizing every detail of him and your surroundings so not to be caught off guard. You could feel Connor's eyes on you, and forced yourself to relax. You could only hope that he would watch your back in case of an ambush.

You had heard so much about him, though you never knew where he came from. From memory, he was said to be quite a threat to the Templar order, and had made a dent in their numbers. You couldn't deny he resembled Haytham, so much so that it made you uncomfortable to admit that he was good looking.

"An alliance with your Templar father?" You spoke up, breaking the silence, watching your horses' ears twitch as you did so. "I hope that bodes well for you in the end. If the circumstances were the same and I had the chance to decide my father's fate, it wouldn't be easy."

"This is not about us, we are after a target." His low voice sounded like thunder through his lips.

"Say what you will." You brushed off his weak statement, though his tone contradicted his words. "You're the one who tracked him down just to form an alliance." You faced forward.

Haytham's hand came up to signal a stop as you all stumbled across a man fixing the wheel of a wagon. It was clear that it belonged to Church. Connor dismounted first, confronting the driver. Without a moment for you to react or stop him, he stomped towards the man.

"Are you Church's man?!" He shouted.

The stranger looked up, then began to sprint in the opposite direction.

"Subtle," Haytham glanced at Connor.

This is the start of a bloody nightmare, you thought, watching Connor and Haytham take off after him. You kicked your horse who jumped into a canter and sped up into as much of a gallop as he could muster through the heavy snow, following Connor as he took to the trees.

Above you, snow fell while he jumped from branch to branch. You were gaining on the runaway, and your horse, well equipped for sharp turns and quick movements, spun on his back leg to face him as Connor pounced from a lower limb and tackled him.

"Next time, try not to give our intentions away," You dismounted, trying your best not to glare at the assassin. Your hand reached up to pat the neck of your winded steed, his nostrils flaring.

He lifted the man up, avoiding your gaze, and pressed him against a nearby tree with a thud.

"Where is Church?!" Connor yelled, his booming voice sending a flock of starlings off of their resting spot on a snowy branch.

The driver panted heavily, looking at the three of you as Haytham appeared. "I don't know! We was riding for a camp just north of here. It's where we normally unload the cargo," he gulped. "Maybe you'll find him th-"

Before his sentence could be finished, his head exploded before your eyes. Blood splattered across your lips and cheeks, and your ears rung violently.

Brain matter was scattered across the tree trunk, dusting the crisp white snow, now stained crimson. Your vision was blurry, and you held your head to try and ease the sudden headache.

"Dammit!" You yelled, turning to face Haytham who held the smoking pistol. "He didn't have to die!"

You felt sick to your stomach, a symptom of watching men die that never ceased no matter how many lives you took. You choked it down as you were trained to and ignored the feeling of guilt growing in your stomach.

Connor turned to face Haytham with rage in his eyes. Hopefully killing was not new to him, or this would prove to be a difficult mission.

"He would've been a loose end. Better we leave no trace." Haytham holstered the pistol beneath his cloak and appeared nonchalant.

"We work together, or I find Church on my own. You can't just do whatever you please." Your voice became more strained as you held back your anger.

"Fine," Haytham held his hands up in surrender, before mounting his horse. "We'd better head north and find that convoy."

You cleaned the blood and viscera from your face, nearly gagging as you did so, but held back. Now is not the time to be worried about one man's life. It is for the greater good, you scolded yourself, attempting to silence your conscience. You mounted your steed and caught up with Haytham.