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Description
April 13, 1961; Washington DC

Bromden sat in the West Wing lobby for what felt like hours. He honestly didn't know how long it was. Everything had happened so fast, and now it was as if time had slowed to a stop.

They flew him out from Deadwood as soon as possible, only giving him enough time to assure his family that everything was okay, even if he wasn't quite sure of that himself. Next thing he knew, he was being escorted by men in suits through Washington DC, and marched up the stairs into the White House. And now here he was, waiting alone for whatever mess he was about to get thrown into. If anything went wrong, he still had his hidden blades at least. That comforted him a little bit. They could've easily taken them off of him. If they didn't, that meant they must be expecting him to trust them. Right…?

He thought back to Wanbli, and he pulled his photograph of her out of his coat. It brought a smile to his face, seeing his daughter's smile. As long as he had her in his heart, he wouldn't falter. She was his drive.

“Major Arnolds?” a voice suddenly said. Bromden looked up to see one of the men in suits. “The President will see you now.”

Bromden nodded, and carefully returned the photograph to his pocket. He stood from his seat and followed the suit as he led him down the hallways that led to the Oval Office. The man opened the door for Bromden, and stepped aside, ushering him inside. Bromden suppressed a nervous gulp, stood as tall as he could, and promptly walked into the foreboding chamber beyond.

The door shut behind him, locking him in an almost eerie silence. He looked forward to the desk at the other end of the room, and saw only the window behind it and the chair in between them. The chair was swiveled around to face the window, but Bromden could tell right away that someone was sitting on the other side. He said nothing and did nothing, wondering what the first move would be.

“Quite an accomplishment what the Soviets did, isn't it?” the man in the chair said. Bromden could see the fold of a newspaper being held behind the chair. No doubt one detailing Yuri Gagarin’s recent leap for humanity.

“Indeed it is,” Bromden responded, not entirely knowing what to say.

“That Gagarin boy is gonna go down in history. The first one of us to take that step into the final frontier. Next thing you know, we'll have this entire solar system thriving as a haven for human civilization.”

Bromden nodded. “I definitely hope so, sir,” he said. He saw the man put down his newspaper into his lap.

“Exciting times,” he said. “Exciting times. I just hope we'll survive long enough to get there. We need bright young minds like that daughter of yours to get us there. Kids like that are what will propel our nation into the future.”

Bromden's mind started spinning at the mention of his daughter. “You know about Wanbli, sir?” he asked.

“I know a lot of things, Major Arnolds,” the man responded. “For example…” His chair slowly began to spin around. Bromden locked eyes with the man sitting there in front of him. His suit was clean, and his hair groomed. He had an aura around him, a sort of charisma that demanded both a smile, respect, and caution all at the same time. “...I know about you.”

John F. Kennedy. President John F. Kennedy. The head of state himself, firmly locking eyes with Bromden. Bromden did everything he could not to show the anxiety he felt deep down. There weren't a lot of things on this earth that could put him on edge, especially after all he had experienced in the Philippines. But Kennedy… Kennedy was a man who shattered his resolve more than any bullet storm ever could. His reputation exceeded him by a long shot. Five years as a soldier, six years in the House of Representatives, seven in the Senate, and now his first year in the White House. And he didn't get all of that experience by chance. He knew how to be a big personality. He knew how to get people on his side, and how to deal with those who didn't. One could easily argue that he could've won the election just with that toothy smile of his alone. He bled a charisma that Richard Nixon never had, especially on the television debates. Bromden felt like he was walking on ice just from being in his proximity, never even knowing if the ice was thick or thin.

“All your snooping around Area 51 has given a lot of cause to grumble among your enemies, Major Arnolds,” Kennedy said. “I'm told Abstergo isn't very pleased that an Assassin has been digging his nose into places they never wanted.”

“Is that a cause of concern for you as well, Mr. President?” Bromden carefully asked.

Then Kennedy smiled, a surprisingly friendly smile. “Not in the slightest, Major Arnolds,” he said. “In fact, I feel inclined to congratulate you for shoving that stick further up Abstergo's rear end.”

Bromden felt a sort of wash of relief drape over him. “I'm not going to lie, sir, that puts me at ease,” he said.

Kennedy chuckled. “I apologize if the sudden call rattled your nerves, Major. We're on the same side, I assure you of that. The Templars and I have never seen eye to eye, and the more they threaten me and my country, the more I lean to you and your Brotherhood.”

“Then it's an honor to serve you, Mr. President.”

“The honor's mine.”

“Speaking of that sudden call, I assume that means you require my services against our enemies?”

Kennedy nodded slowly. “How much have you learned about the Templars’ plans for outer space exploration?” he asked.

“I know that Gagarin is only the first step in a much longer path they've set,” Bromden explained. “Based on what I've gathered over the years, I know they plan to make a journey to the Moon.”

Kennedy nodded knowingly. “Do you know why specifically they plan to make this journey?” he asked.

Bromden shook his head. “All I know is that they plan to recover... something. Though what specifically, I'm afraid I don't know.”

Kennedy cast a glance down at his desk. Bromden noticed him reach for his drawer. He used a key to unlock it, and slowly began to pull it open. Bromden suddenly had that sinking feeling in his stomach again. A light started to radiate out through the crack in the drawer, and it only grew brighter the more it opened. Bromden's jaw started dropping as Kennedy gently pulled out what was held inside. The President held it in his palms, and carefully set it down on the desk in front of him. He locked eyes with Bromden, his facial features highlighted by the golden shine of the small, intricately designed sphere underneath his hand.

“Do you know what this is, Major Arnolds?” Kennedy asked.

Bromden felt a catch in his throat. “Yes sir,” he said dryly.

An Apple of Eden. One of the most powerful and dangerous objects ever to be left behind by the Precursors. And it was sitting here on the desk of the Oval Office.

“This Apple had been in the hands of many people in this Office,” Kennedy explained, keeping his eyes off the artifact as if refusing to. “The Templars dug it out of the Hawaiian sea and gave it to the man in charge to strengthen their control on a growing nation. Then when this kind of power led to Hiroshima… your Brotherhood stole it back. And now it's in my possession, and I am trusted to keep it from ever being used.”

Bromden shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. “And… I take it Abstergo isn't happy about that?” he inquired.

“Honestly, Major Arnolds, I don't think Abstergo is ever happy about anything,” Kennedy laughed. Then he pulled out a thick cloth from the drawer, and placed it over the Apple, almost tossing it over as if not wanting to touch something disgusting. Both men were clearly glad to have the thing out of their sights.

“There's more than one of these artifacts,” Kennedy continued. “And recently Abstergo has been trying to gather up as many as they can to replace this one. And I do mean as many as possible.”

“So the artifact that they were talking about regarding their plans for space… they're trying to locate an Apple up there?”

Kennedy nodded. “I don't know how or why one of these overgrown Christmas lights got up there, but the few allies I have at NASA have informed me that it exists. And all I know is that the Templars want it badly.”

“Then what can we do to stop them?”

“Get there before they do, Major Arnolds. The Templars paint this entire endeavor as a race between the United States and the Soviets, but that's merely propaganda. It's really a race against us.”

“You want me to go to the Moon, sir?”

Kennedy smirked. “If you're up for it, Major,” he nodded. “I'd certainly trust you to be sent up there more than any of the men the Templars have on their rosters.”

Bromden's head spun. Never in a thousand years did he ever think he'd be standing in the Oval Office, being personally asked by the President of the United States to man a mission to the Moon. But if the Templars were planning such a scheme, one that could threaten the entire world, then he knew he had to accept.

“If it will ensure that our nation and our planet gets to experience another lifetime, then I will make the leap, Mr. President,” Bromden nodded.

“Good man,” Kennedy said. “If I were you, I'd try to get in contact with our spies at NASA to try and get this entire operation started.”

“Permission to ask a stupid question, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Why do you need spies in NASA?”

That made Kennedy laugh. “If I told you how many Abstergo agents were getting their grubby fingerprints all over NASA, it'd make your head spin clean off,” he said.

“The bastards are using the arsenals of both the Soviets and the United States to get them into space then… I guess that explains a lot of the talk I heard at Area 51.”

Kennedy sadly nodded. “That's part of why we need to circumvent their plans,” he explained.

“Sir?”

“The Templars are playing off the rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union to inspire both sides to shove all their resources to get one to the Moon before the other as fast as possible. And I plan to circumvent that with a new policy: I plan to propose a joint voyage to the Moon. Soviet and Americans manning the mission together under the Assassin insignia instead of separately under the Templar Cross.”

“Do you think that will work, sir? I don't know much about the situation in Russia but I have doubts that Khrushchev would be willing to accept an olive branch like that.”

“If he’s a smart man, which I believe he is, then he will accept eventually. No man wants to be remembered for continuing a great schism. This leap to the Moon could very well be one of the largest symbols of peace and cooperation between even the most bitter enemies in all of history if we can manage to bring our nations together on this project. Something the Templars can't survive with. And something Khrushchev will accept too if he's smart enough to realize the long term advantages to ditching those suited clowns.”

“I hope you’re right, Mr. President.”

“So do I, Major Arnolds. So do I.”

Kennedy then reach for a glass, and motioned for Bromden to do the same. “To the Moon,” Kennedy said, raising his glass. Bromden smiled, and he brought his own glass up as well, clinking the toast with the President and repeating, “To the Moon.”

Description
April 13, 1961; Washington DC

Bromden sat in the West Wing lobby for what felt like hours. He honestly didn't know how long it was. Everything had happened so fast, and now it was as if time had slowed to a stop.

They flew him out from Deadwood as soon as possible, only giving him enough time to assure his family that everything was okay, even if he wasn't quite sure of that himself. Next thing he knew, he was being escorted by men in suits through Washington DC, and marched up the stairs into the White House. And now here he was, waiting alone for whatever mess he was about to get thrown into. If anything went wrong, he still had his hidden blades at least. That comforted him a little bit. They could've easily taken them off of him. If they didn't, that meant they must be expecting him to trust them. Right…?

He thought back to Wanbli, and he pulled his photograph of her out of his coat. It brought a smile to his face, seeing his daughter's smile. As long as he had her in his heart, he wouldn't falter. She was his drive.

“Major Arnolds?” a voice suddenly said. Bromden looked up to see one of the men in suits. “The President will see you now.”

Bromden nodded, and carefully returned the photograph to his pocket. He stood from his seat and followed the suit as he led him down the hallways that led to the Oval Office. The man opened the door for Bromden, and stepped aside, ushering him inside. Bromden suppressed a nervous gulp, stood as tall as he could, and promptly walked into the foreboding chamber beyond.

The door shut behind him, locking him in an almost eerie silence. He looked forward to the desk at the other end of the room, and saw only the window behind it and the chair in between them. The chair was swiveled around to face the window, but Bromden could tell right away that someone was sitting on the other side. He said nothing and did nothing, wondering what the first move would be.

“Quite an accomplishment what the Soviets did, isn't it?” the man in the chair said. Bromden could see the fold of a newspaper being held behind the chair. No doubt one detailing Yuri Gagarin’s recent leap for humanity.

“Indeed it is,” Bromden responded, not entirely knowing what to say.

“That Gagarin boy is gonna go down in history. The first one of us to take that step into the final frontier. Next thing you know, we'll have this entire solar system thriving as a haven for human civilization.”

Bromden nodded. “I definitely hope so, sir,” he said. He saw the man put down his newspaper into his lap.

“Exciting times,” he said. “Exciting times. I just hope we'll survive long enough to get there. We need bright young minds like that daughter of yours to get us there. Kids like that are what will propel our nation into the future.”

Bromden's mind started spinning at the mention of his daughter. “You know about Wanbli, sir?” he asked.

“I know a lot of things, Major Arnolds,” the man responded. “For example…” His chair slowly began to spin around. Bromden locked eyes with the man sitting there in front of him. His suit was clean, and his hair groomed. He had an aura around him, a sort of charisma that demanded both a smile, respect, and caution all at the same time. “...I know about you.”

John F. Kennedy. President John F. Kennedy. The head of state himself, firmly locking eyes with Bromden. Bromden did everything he could not to show the anxiety he felt deep down. There weren't a lot of things on this earth that could put him on edge, especially after all he had experienced in the Philippines. But Kennedy… Kennedy was a man who shattered his resolve more than any bullet storm ever could. His reputation exceeded him by a long shot. Five years as a soldier, six years in the House of Representatives, seven in the Senate, and now his first year in the White House. And he didn't get all of that experience by chance. He knew how to be a big personality. He knew how to get people on his side, and how to deal with those who didn't. One could easily argue that he could've won the election just with that toothy smile of his alone. He bled a charisma that Richard Nixon never had, especially on the television debates. Bromden felt like he was walking on ice just from being in his proximity, never even knowing if the ice was thick or thin.

“All your snooping around Area 51 has given a lot of cause to grumble among your enemies, Major Arnolds,” Kennedy said. “I'm told Abstergo isn't very pleased that an Assassin has been digging his nose into places they never wanted.”

“Is that a cause of concern for you as well, Mr. President?” Bromden carefully asked.

Then Kennedy smiled, a surprisingly friendly smile. “Not in the slightest, Major Arnolds,” he said. “In fact, I feel inclined to congratulate you for shoving that stick further up Abstergo's rear end.”

Bromden felt a sort of wash of relief drape over him. “I'm not going to lie, sir, that puts me at ease,” he said.

Kennedy chuckled. “I apologize if the sudden call rattled your nerves, Major. We're on the same side, I assure you of that. The Templars and I have never seen eye to eye, and the more they threaten me and my country, the more I lean to you and your Brotherhood.”

“Then it's an honor to serve you, Mr. President.”

“The honor's mine.”

“Speaking of that sudden call, I assume that means you require my services against our enemies?”

Kennedy nodded slowly. “How much have you learned about the Templars’ plans for outer space exploration?” he asked.

“I know that Gagarin is only the first step in a much longer path they've set,” Bromden explained. “Based on what I've gathered over the years, I know they plan to make a journey to the Moon.”

Kennedy nodded knowingly. “Do you know why specifically they plan to make this journey?” he asked.

Bromden shook his head. “All I know is that they plan to recover... something. Though what specifically, I'm afraid I don't know.”

Kennedy cast a glance down at his desk. Bromden noticed him reach for his drawer. He used a key to unlock it, and slowly began to pull it open. Bromden suddenly had that sinking feeling in his stomach again. A light started to radiate out through the crack in the drawer, and it only grew brighter the more it opened. Bromden's jaw started dropping as Kennedy gently pulled out what was held inside. The President held it in his palms, and carefully set it down on the desk in front of him. He locked eyes with Bromden, his facial features highlighted by the golden shine of the small, intricately designed sphere underneath his hand.

“Do you know what this is, Major Arnolds?” Kennedy asked.

Bromden felt a catch in his throat. “Yes sir,” he said dryly.

An Apple of Eden. One of the most powerful and dangerous objects ever to be left behind by the Precursors. And it was sitting here on the desk of the Oval Office.

“This Apple had been in the hands of many people in this Office,” Kennedy explained, keeping his eyes off the artifact as if refusing to. “The Templars dug it out of the Hawaiian sea and gave it to the man in charge to strengthen their control on a growing nation. Then when this kind of power led to Hiroshima… your Brotherhood stole it back. And now it's in my possession, and I am trusted to keep it from ever being used.”

Bromden shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. “And… I take it Abstergo isn't happy about that?” he inquired.

“Honestly, Major Arnolds, I don't think Abstergo is ever happy about anything,” Kennedy laughed. Then he pulled out a thick cloth from the drawer, and placed it over the Apple, almost tossing it over as if not wanting to touch something disgusting. Both men were clearly glad to have the thing out of their sights.

“There's more than one of these artifacts,” Kennedy continued. “And recently Abstergo has been trying to gather up as many as they can to replace this one. And I do mean as many as possible.”

“So the artifact that they were talking about regarding their plans for space… they're trying to locate an Apple up there?”

Kennedy nodded. “I don't know how or why one of these overgrown Christmas lights got up there, but the few allies I have at NASA have informed me that it exists. And all I know is that the Templars want it badly.”

“Then what can we do to stop them?”

“Get there before they do, Major Arnolds. The Templars paint this entire endeavor as a race between the United States and the Soviets, but that's merely propaganda. It's really a race against us.”

“You want me to go to the Moon, sir?”

Kennedy smirked. “If you're up for it, Major,” he nodded. “I'd certainly trust you to be sent up there more than any of the men the Templars have on their rosters.”

Bromden's head spun. Never in a thousand years did he ever think he'd be standing in the Oval Office, being personally asked by the President of the United States to man a mission to the Moon. But if the Templars were planning such a scheme, one that could threaten the entire world, then he knew he had to accept.

“If it will ensure that our nation and our planet gets to experience another lifetime, then I will make the leap, Mr. President,” Bromden nodded.

“Good man,” Kennedy said. “If I were you, I'd try to get in contact with our spies at NASA to try and get this entire operation started.”

“Permission to ask a stupid question, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Why do you need spies in NASA?”

That made Kennedy laugh. “If I told you how many Abstergo agents were getting their grubby fingerprints all over NASA, it'd make your head spin clean off,” he said.

“The bastards are using the arsenals of both the Soviets and the United States to get them into space then… I guess that explains a lot of the talk I heard at Area 51.”

Kennedy sadly nodded. “That's part of why we need to circumvent their plans,” he explained.

“Sir?”

“The Templars are playing off the rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union to inspire both sides to shove all their resources to get one to the Moon before the other as fast as possible. And I plan to circumvent that with a new policy: I plan to propose a joint voyage to the Moon. Soviet and Americans manning the mission together under the Assassin insignia instead of separately under the Templar Cross.”

“Do you think that will work, sir? I don't know much about the situation in Russia but I have doubts that Khrushchev would be willing to accept an olive branch like that.”

“If he’s a smart man, which I believe he is, then he will accept eventually. No man wants to be remembered for continuing a great schism. This leap to the Moon could very well be one of the largest symbols of peace and cooperation between even the most bitter enemies in all of history if we can manage to bring our nations together on this project. Something the Templars can't survive with. And something Khrushchev will accept too if he's smart enough to realize the long term advantages to ditching those suited clowns.”

“I hope you’re right, Mr. President.”

“So do I, Major Arnolds. So do I.”

Kennedy then reach for a glass, and motioned for Bromden to do the same. “To the Moon,” Kennedy said, raising his glass. Bromden smiled, and he brought his own glass up as well, clinking the toast with the President and repeating, “To the Moon.”