An approaching tiny pin prick of red immediately caught Connor's attention.
The Omega's body went rigid, hands curling towards his flintlocks and throwing knives. In his second sight, red always meant danger; whether in the form of a hungry predator or an armed enemy. Had he still been in the wild, the hunter would have already made his move to investigate and dispose of the intruder. However, surrounded by so many stationary people, he'd have to be careful on not making too much movement at once.
Without taking his eyes off that moving red blur, he slowly backed away into the crowd. Quietly, he moved around the smaller groups of people, careful not to raise too much attention while making his way over towards one of the buildings that surrounded the cemetery. Once he was out of the open, Connor approached one of the perimeter guards and ordered them to keep their eyes out for any suspicious activity.
The little speck of red might have been nothing. Perhaps what he saw was nothing but a city guard chasing down a perpetrator on the rooftops. It was not unusual for citizens to show open hostility against the soldiers who represented the Crown's authority. When Connor had returned to New York, he had noticed the extreme tension between the colonists and the British.
However, the hunter had not survived on his own for the past two years by taking anything to chance. Disregarding any potential threat without an investigation was out of the question. All the members of the Inner Circle were gathered at the service today. If the Order had any serious enemies that he wasn't aware of, now would be the perfect time for them to strike.
Turning around a street corner, he used a lift to quickly launch up onto the rooftop. The red blur was still in motion, weaving around chimneys and weather vanes. He sprinted forward, hoping to intercept the interloper before they could get close enough to the funeral service.
Just before he was about to be seen, Connor ducked down, taking cover within the shadows and grabbed one of his flintlocks from its holster. Whoever this person was, was not a Redcoat soldier. It was obvious by the white cowl that covered most of the man's face, and the way he was able to move so fluidly...
All thoughts came to a halt as his ears picked up the a sound of rushing wind coming from above. Connor immediately threw himself backwards, Avoiding the sharp edge of a tomahawk as it slammed into the spot he had been standing in mere seconds ago. Leaping to his feet, he unsheathed the sword at his side before lunging forward.
His enemy pivoted just in time to avoided being ran through, whirling that oddly shaped tomahawk with finesse in order to deflect the aggressive swings and stabs Connor rained upon him. The hooded man - clearly an Alpha by the muscular build beneath the robes - was quite skilled, managing to block and avoid the slashes of silver that cut through the air. However, he couldn't react fast enough to push an offensive.
With eagle vision still activated, Connor watched as the ruby glow that encased his opponent seemed to burn brighter with killing intent. He continued to drive the man back, towards the edge of the roof, and held him there as their weapons locked together. It was a futile struggle, the Alpha maybe larger and stronger than him, but Connor had the advantage. Only one hardy push was needed, and he'd throw his enemy's balance, and the man himself off the building.
The young Templar inwardly frowned. Killing this man would not answer the question as to why he was even here. For what reason did this Alpha have for gate crashing a funeral and confronting the highest ranked members of the Order?
Just as Connor was about to open his mouth and offer the other man a chance to surrender, there was a hiss of metal and from the corner of his eye, he saw a blade protruding from the other's vambrace coming towards him. His mind froze, but fortunately his body reacted on reflex as it leapt backwards when a glint of silver slashed at his throat.
There was a rip of cloth that must have been the cravat around his neck, and the sting of pain as the enemy was able to draw the first blood. Bringing fingers to his throat, he winced as they came away wet. The cut was thankfully not deep, but that weapon... he thought only his father had possessed one so unique.
Is that really... a hidden blade?! He wondered while trying to regain his balance. The dark gray tricorn hat that Ellen had made for him, fell off, tumbling out of sight. The Templar paid it no heed as he whipped up his sword in defense, but strangely the enemy had not moved to attack him.
Much to Connor's confusion, the tomahawk was lowered slightly and beneath that beaked hood, eyes widened in both shock and horror.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
A/N: May not be able to update as frequently this weekend due to work, but I'll try hard to finish up one-shot #11 (made a mistake and thought it was #10) of the First Word series.
One-shot: Assassin 3b/4
An approaching tiny pin prick of red immediately caught Connor's attention.
The Omega's body went rigid, hands curling towards his flintlocks and throwing knives. In his second sight, red always meant danger; whether in the form of a hungry predator or an armed enemy. Had he still been in the wild, the hunter would have already made his move to investigate and dispose of the intruder. However, surrounded by so many stationary people, he'd have to be careful on not making too much movement at once.
Without taking his eyes off that moving red blur, he slowly backed away into the crowd. Quietly, he moved around the smaller groups of people, careful not to raise too much attention while making his way over towards one of the buildings that surrounded the cemetery. Once he was out of the open, Connor approached one of the perimeter guards and ordered them to keep their eyes out for any suspicious activity.
The little speck of red might have been nothing. Perhaps what he saw was nothing but a city guard chasing down a perpetrator on the rooftops. It was not unusual for citizens to show open hostility against the soldiers who represented the Crown's authority. When Connor had returned to New York, he had noticed the extreme tension between the colonists and the British.
However, the hunter had not survived on his own for the past two years by taking anything to chance. Disregarding any potential threat without an investigation was out of the question. All the members of the Inner Circle were gathered at the service today. If the Order had any serious enemies that he wasn't aware of, now would be the perfect time for them to strike.
Turning around a street corner, he used a lift to quickly launch up onto the rooftop. The red blur was still in motion, weaving around chimneys and weather vanes. He sprinted forward, hoping to intercept the interloper before they could get close enough to the funeral service.
Just before he was about to be seen, Connor ducked down, taking cover within the shadows and grabbed one of his flintlocks from its holster. Whoever this person was, was not a Redcoat soldier. It was obvious by the white cowl that covered most of the man's face, and the way he was able to move so fluidly...
All thoughts came to a halt as his ears picked up the a sound of rushing wind coming from above. Connor immediately threw himself backwards, Avoiding the sharp edge of a tomahawk as it slammed into the spot he had been standing in mere seconds ago. Leaping to his feet, he unsheathed the sword at his side before lunging forward.
His enemy pivoted just in time to avoided being ran through, whirling that oddly shaped tomahawk with finesse in order to deflect the aggressive swings and stabs Connor rained upon him. The hooded man - clearly an Alpha by the muscular build beneath the robes - was quite skilled, managing to block and avoid the slashes of silver that cut through the air. However, he couldn't react fast enough to push an offensive.
With eagle vision still activated, Connor watched as the ruby glow that encased his opponent seemed to burn brighter with killing intent. He continued to drive the man back, towards the edge of the roof, and held him there as their weapons locked together. It was a futile struggle, the Alpha maybe larger and stronger than him, but Connor had the advantage. Only one hardy push was needed, and he'd throw his enemy's balance, and the man himself off the building.
The young Templar inwardly frowned. Killing this man would not answer the question as to why he was even here. For what reason did this Alpha have for gate crashing a funeral and confronting the highest ranked members of the Order?
Just as Connor was about to open his mouth and offer the other man a chance to surrender, there was a hiss of metal and from the corner of his eye, he saw a blade protruding from the other's vambrace coming towards him. His mind froze, but fortunately his body reacted on reflex as it leapt backwards when a glint of silver slashed at his throat.
There was a rip of cloth that must have been the cravat around his neck, and the sting of pain as the enemy was able to draw the first blood. Bringing fingers to his throat, he winced as they came away wet. The cut was thankfully not deep, but that weapon... he thought only his father had possessed one so unique.
Is that really... a hidden blade?! He wondered while trying to regain his balance. The dark gray tricorn hat that Ellen had made for him, fell off, tumbling out of sight. The Templar paid it no heed as he whipped up his sword in defense, but strangely the enemy had not moved to attack him.
Much to Connor's confusion, the tomahawk was lowered slightly and beneath that beaked hood, eyes widened in both shock and horror.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
A/N: May not be able to update as frequently this weekend due to work, but I'll try hard to finish up one-shot #11 (made a mistake and thought it was #10) of the First Word series.