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December 15, 2013; Indianapolis, Indiana

It took a few months, but Chelsea kept her promise. She finally managed to find the time and money to drive us up to the Indiana State Museum. The stuff we did when we were there wasn't really that interesting. We walked around, looked at a bunch of cool stuff, and then left. We just had fun hanging out together. It was just us two cousins, basically siblings, having a blast just being together to celebrate. And it was awesome.

It was what happened after we left that's really worth telling about, though. The whole time we were at the museum, I couldn't help but notice that Chelsea seemed to have a certain look in her eye, an expression hidden behind her smile. I have no doubt the smile was legitimate, but there was as something else, something troubling. She looked like she was worrying about something. I didn't really bring it up, though. I didn't want to risk destroying the joyful mood. I just kind of ignored it.

The sun was starting to dip in the sky by the time we left the museum. Chelsea smiled at me as we walked to her car. “So, squirt,” she said. “Have fun?”

“Yep,” I said with a grin. “Had a blast, Chels.”

“Good. Glad you had fun.”

Suddenly, Chelsea’s phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She pulled it out and checked her texts. “It’s my mom,” she said. “She says she wants us to meet her at a building a few blocks from here.” I saw that hidden nervous look in her eyes again. “Welp,” she said, putting her phone in her pocket and opening the car door when we found our ride. “We'd better go see what's up.” I nodded and we both got in her car. She started up the engine and drove out of the museum parking lot.

The sun was setting by the time we arrived at our destination, which turned out to be a small warehouse just outside of downtown Indianapolis. I didn't know what it was at the time, but something felt very wrong about the place. It looked just like any other warehouse, a little old and beaten perhaps but nothing really made it stand out. Still, I couldn't shake this bad feeling in my gut. I could tell Chelsea felt it, too.

A gust of the winter air flew by. Chelsea pulled her white cardigan tighter around herself. I did the same with the beaten, grey hoodie that I had on. We looked at each other, and then Chelsea motioned for me to follow her. She seemed oddly cautious. I noticed her flexing her fingers a bit. I figured it was just some nervous tick. I'd soon find out the deeper instincts that went into that motion. She pulled her hood up over her head. We approached the door of the warehouse and entered. Chelsea motioned for me to stay close.

The place was dark. We could still hear the roar of winter from outside even after we closed the door. We reached the center of the warehouse, surrounded by the cavernous space. Angie was nowhere to be seen. Something was definitely wrong. It was obvious at that point. Chelsea looked in every direction. She moved closer to me, like an animal protecting her young. “Carter, stay close behind me. Got it?” she said.

“Chelsea, what's going on?” I asked, staying close to my older cousin.

“Just stay close.”

I listened.

Suddenly, there was a scraping from within the darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I was able to make out figures approaching us, slowly and menacingly. They were all dressed in dark colors. Some had loose armor on their arms and legs. There was at least seven of them. Chelsea cursed under her breath. “Knew this was a trap...” she whispered to herself.

“What?” I said, beginning to freak out a bit.

“Stay back, Carter!”

Then I learned why she flexed her fingers before. Chelsea flexed her hand backwards and from under her sleeve, without warning, shot out some kind of retractable blade. She did the same with her other hand and stood ready to fight. The advancing men started pulling out their own weapons. Four of them pulled out collapsible batons and the other three pulled out knives. I noticed the crosses engraved into their outfits.

“Give us the kid,” said one of the men, his voice muffled a bit by the bandana over his mouth.

“Over my dead body!” said Chelsea. “You people aren't going to touch him ever again.” I looked at Chelsea. Did she know who these guys were?

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Assassin,” said the man. “Give us the kid.” Chelsea just glared at him. He glared back. “Alright then,” said the man. He addressed his men. “Kill her!” he ordered.

And with that, the men attacked, weapons raised. One man swung his baton at Chelsea’s head, but she quickly ducked, dodging the blow. The man lost his balance and Chelsea made him pay for it. To my continuing shock, she rammed her blade into the back of the man's neck, killing him instantly. I ducked to the ground out of fear and confusion. The floor was already soaked with blood.

Another man ran towards Chelsea, knife raised. Chelsea brought up her arm just as the man swung his knife. Her blade sparked against the knife. She swung at him, but he countered back. He swung again, but this time Chelsea used her blade to knock the attacker's knife from his hand. She drove her blade into his throat, bringing up another fountain of blood. I was still shaking on on the floor.

I didn't stay there for long, though. After Chelsea had taken out three more attackers, I instinctively started to get up to try and get away. I barely got five feet before another attacker grabbed me by the collar. He put his knife to my nose. I was hyperventilating at that point. I thought I was about to die. “Natasha and Trina are gonna be real happy to get you back,” he said menacingly. My eyes widened even further. Trina? As in my mother? Did she have something to do with this?

Suddenly, I heard the sixth body drop. And the next thing I knew, a huge bang filled the air and a bleeding hole appeared in the man's shoulder. He yelled in pain, and as he writhed, he accidentally slashed his knife across my nose. I yelled in pain as he lost his grip on me. I fell to the floor, gripping my bleeding face. Chelsea rushed up and aimed her still-smoking gun at the attacker. Another bang sounded as she ended his life.

She dropped the gun, retracted her blades, and knelt beside me. She pulled out a rag from her coat pocket and pressed it against my wound. “I'm so, so sorry, Carter,” she said, her guilt clearly showing. “You have no idea how much we tried to keep this from happening.” I was in too much pain and shock to talk, but my expression was enough to tell her that I forgave her for… whatever this was.

“Listen,” she said hurriedly. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we have to go now! They've probably got more people coming already.” I nodded through my tears and stood up with her. She managed to help me out to her car. We got in, and Chelsea slammed on the gas peddle. She drove through Indianapolis, trying her best to stop my bleeding at the same time. Eventually, we came to a large, abandoned-looking warehouse on the other side of town.

She rushed me out of her car and towards the building. She opened the door of one a nearby shipping container, and we entered, closing the door behind us. Chelsea quickly went over to a panel on the wall, opened it, and entered a code into the keypad that was hidden beneath. As she went back to applying pressure to my wound, the whole container shook. I could feel the room lower down like an elevator. It went down a few floors before stopping. Chelsea opened the door up and hurried me through.

We walked down a hallway and went through some double doors. We found ourselves in a giant room about the size of a large gymnasium that was full of crates and boxes of all sizes. Chelsea rushed me up a flight of stairs. We went through another set of double doors and found ourselves in a much nicer-looking area. It was the intersection of a large, wide hallway that branched off into several different hallways, each leading to a different room.

Chelsea hurried me into what I assumed was an infirmary, mainly due to all the medical stuff lying around. She grabbed a first-aid kit, sat me in a chair, and finally settled down to properly dress my wound.

I was still shaking pretty badly. I was still trying to comprehend what just happened. I looked at Chelsea. She looked awful. She clearly felt bad for letting that happen. “I'm so sorry,” she said again.

“It’s okay,” I managed to choke out.

“No, it's not. I should've fought harder.” We were silent for a moment.

“What's going on, Chelsea?” I asked, on the verge of tears. “Who were those guys? What did they want? Why did that one guy say something about my mom? Why did he call you an assassin?” Chelsea lowered her head. My questions kept coming. She knew it was gonna be a long night. She quickly texted Angie and my dad and then returned her attention to me.

“I guess you would've found out eventually,” she said, a hint of regret in her voice.

“Find out what?” I asked. She looked at me. “We need to have a long talk,” she said.

------------

After my wound was dressed, she moved me into a more comfortable room in that hidden place. It looked and felt a lot like a nice apartment. She sat me down on a couch, and told me everything.

“First off,” she said calmly, “it’s not assassin like you're probably thinking. It's Assassin. Capitalized.” She paused. “I'm part of the Assassin Brotherhood. We're a really old organization that fights to save people's freedoms.”

“There are others?” I said, trying to take this all in. Chelsea nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I'm an Assassin. So is my mom. So is your dad and Misty.” I looked at her. She nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “All of us. There's others too, of course. We've got a whole bunch of people all around the world, watching out for our enemies.”

“Like the guys that attacked us?” I asked.

Chelsea nodded. “That's right,” she said. “Those men, the ones that sent that fake text and trapped us, they were part of another group, the Templars. They're pretty much the scum of the Earth. The only thing they want is complete domination. They think freedom is evil, and that everyone should bow to them. We fight to make sure that doesn't happen.”

She paused, clearly not comfortable with what she was about to say.

“Your mom's a Templar,” she said slowly. I looked at her. So many things were racing through my head. “She's one of their best agents here in Indiana. There's only a few people above her in rank, like their leader.”

“Their leader?”

“Natasha Wolfgang, the Grand Master of the Hoosier Templars.”

“Isn't that the chick whose cousin was killed a few months ago?”

“Yeah, that's her. And her cousin, that was my work.” I gave her another look. She still clearly felt bad about bringing me into this. “He was a Templar,” she said, “and a corrupted one, too. He had to die before he destroyed the city.” There was another silence. I took a moment to absorb all this.

“We have a Creed,” Chelsea eventually said. “The Assassins. We have a Creed: Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.”

“What's that mean?”

“Saying nothing is true means that you realize that the only things that you can call true are the things that you as an individual decide are true. No one else can choose for you. Saying everything’s permitted means you realize that nothing is actually stopping you from doing anything. You can do whatever you want, but you have to deal with the consequences of whatever you do, whether good or bad.”

“I… I guess that makes sense.”

Chelsea nodded. I lowered my head.

“I…” I said. “I… didn't really expect you to be a killer...” Then Chelsea lowered her head.

“It’s not the most happy fun-time job in the world, I'll admit,” she said. We were silent again.

“Carter,” she said. “It need you to listen. Those guys, the Templars, they're gonna keep coming until they have you again. And each attack is gonna get more and more bloody. At this point, and I know it's a huge question, but I'm gonna have to ask you to decide what path you're gonna take from here. Option A: We keep you under 24/7 surveillance, hidden from the Templars forever, sad and lonely. Or option B: We could teach you to fight back, saving yourself and the city. It's your choice.”

I had to think about it. I knew the second option was the better choice. I was scared, but I wasn't stupid. I knew Chelsea was right. The Templars were going to keep coming, and it would be good if I could fight them back. But did I want to be a killer? Did I want to work to be the angel of death that Chelsea seemed to be? I didn't know.

“Can I… can I get a few hours to think about it?” I asked. Chelsea thought about it and then nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure, yeah.” I nodded.

Then, Chelsea finished with my wound and bandaged it up. It was going to leave a scar, a constant reminder of that day. I wear it proudly now, but during the first few weeks after the attack, it just depressed me. Chelsea motioned for me to get up and follow her. She held my hand, doing whatever came to her mind to comfort me. I was still shaking a bit. She led me to the enormous storage room we passed through before, walking us towards the exit. But even then, it seemed like we weren't out of the woods yet.

Suddenly, a bang was heard and a bullet whizzed passed our faces, just missing us. Chelsea instinctively pushed me behind her as a large man stepped into view from his hiding place. He had on a dark leather coat, and he held a pistol in his right hand. A cross was embroidered into his sleeve.

“Bringing in the big guns already?” said Chelsea. “Gotta say, Corbin, you Templars can be really impatient.” She flicked out her hidden blades again.

“Well,” said Corbin. “What's the point of wasting your pawns if you can take out half the board with your queen?”

“Your ‘queen’ sits in an office chair all day. You're just as much of a pawn as anyone else in your order.”

Corbin scowled. “We'll see how you think about my position when I turn your head into swiss cheese.” He raised his gun, ready to shoot. But Chelsea managed to clear the distance between her and him before any shots could go off. I ducked behind a crate for protection.

Chelsea used her blade to knock the gun from Corbin’s hand. It skidded across the floor and landed next to me. I just continued to watch. Chelsea swung at Corbin, but he dodged her attack and punched her in the head. As Chelsea regained her balance, Corbin pulled out a knife. He swung at her, but she managed to block it with her blades just in time. She punched Corbin square in the jaw. They kept slicing at each other, each one managing to put a few cuts on the other.

But suddenly, Corbin hit Chelsea again, and she fell to the floor. She tried to bring up her blades, but Corbin walked over and stepped on her arms, pinning her to the ground. “I admit,” he said. “You're a great fighter. But I'm better.” He crouched down, and raised his knife. My eyes widened as I looked around to see if I could do anything.

“And now,” said Corbin. “I'm gonna show you why I'm the best hitman the Templars have.” He pulled his arm back, ready to kill my cousin. “No!” I yelled. And then, without thinking, I grabbed Corbin’s lost gun, aimed, and fired. A bang filled the room as the bullet pierced Corbin’s chest. He shouted in pain as he dropped the knife and rolled off of Chelsea. She got up and rushed over to me. She slowly took the gun out of my shaking hands. We looked at the dying man in front of us.

Corbin was still alive, but barely. He clutched his wound as it bled out. Chelsea put a hand on my shoulder. “Don't let him die without a shot at redemption,” she told me. “Even if he is a scumbag, you should hear his last words.” I looked at Chelsea, then at Corbin. Then, slowly, I made my way over and crouched beside the man. He looked at me with dying eyes.

“So this is what kills me, huh?” he said. “Some kid with a lucky shot? I'd hoped I'd die from an Assassin's blade, even if I was too good to let that happen.”

“Why are you people doing this?” I asked. Corbin just chuckled painfully.

“We've got power,” he said. “We've got to enforce it. You were meant to be a guinea pig for a new method of control.”

“I… I earned my freedom. I won't let your people take it.”

“Ugh, you Assassins and your freedom. When are you going to learn? You can't win with freedom. Power, control, oppression, it keeps people in line.”

“It’s not right.”

“It is for us.”

“What makes you so special?” Corbin didn't respond to that. He just kind of smiled. He coughed up some blood, and then he died. I just stared at him. Chelsea knelt by my side and closed Corbin’s eyes. “Rest in peace,” she said softly.

She stared at me. I stared at her. And at that moment, I knew what path I had to take. I had my values. I had my beliefs. And now, I had enemies. I made my choice.

I looked at Chelsea and I told her, “I'm in.”

Description
December 15, 2013; Indianapolis, Indiana

It took a few months, but Chelsea kept her promise. She finally managed to find the time and money to drive us up to the Indiana State Museum. The stuff we did when we were there wasn't really that interesting. We walked around, looked at a bunch of cool stuff, and then left. We just had fun hanging out together. It was just us two cousins, basically siblings, having a blast just being together to celebrate. And it was awesome.

It was what happened after we left that's really worth telling about, though. The whole time we were at the museum, I couldn't help but notice that Chelsea seemed to have a certain look in her eye, an expression hidden behind her smile. I have no doubt the smile was legitimate, but there was as something else, something troubling. She looked like she was worrying about something. I didn't really bring it up, though. I didn't want to risk destroying the joyful mood. I just kind of ignored it.

The sun was starting to dip in the sky by the time we left the museum. Chelsea smiled at me as we walked to her car. “So, squirt,” she said. “Have fun?”

“Yep,” I said with a grin. “Had a blast, Chels.”

“Good. Glad you had fun.”

Suddenly, Chelsea’s phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She pulled it out and checked her texts. “It’s my mom,” she said. “She says she wants us to meet her at a building a few blocks from here.” I saw that hidden nervous look in her eyes again. “Welp,” she said, putting her phone in her pocket and opening the car door when we found our ride. “We'd better go see what's up.” I nodded and we both got in her car. She started up the engine and drove out of the museum parking lot.

The sun was setting by the time we arrived at our destination, which turned out to be a small warehouse just outside of downtown Indianapolis. I didn't know what it was at the time, but something felt very wrong about the place. It looked just like any other warehouse, a little old and beaten perhaps but nothing really made it stand out. Still, I couldn't shake this bad feeling in my gut. I could tell Chelsea felt it, too.

A gust of the winter air flew by. Chelsea pulled her white cardigan tighter around herself. I did the same with the beaten, grey hoodie that I had on. We looked at each other, and then Chelsea motioned for me to follow her. She seemed oddly cautious. I noticed her flexing her fingers a bit. I figured it was just some nervous tick. I'd soon find out the deeper instincts that went into that motion. She pulled her hood up over her head. We approached the door of the warehouse and entered. Chelsea motioned for me to stay close.

The place was dark. We could still hear the roar of winter from outside even after we closed the door. We reached the center of the warehouse, surrounded by the cavernous space. Angie was nowhere to be seen. Something was definitely wrong. It was obvious at that point. Chelsea looked in every direction. She moved closer to me, like an animal protecting her young. “Carter, stay close behind me. Got it?” she said.

“Chelsea, what's going on?” I asked, staying close to my older cousin.

“Just stay close.”

I listened.

Suddenly, there was a scraping from within the darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I was able to make out figures approaching us, slowly and menacingly. They were all dressed in dark colors. Some had loose armor on their arms and legs. There was at least seven of them. Chelsea cursed under her breath. “Knew this was a trap...” she whispered to herself.

“What?” I said, beginning to freak out a bit.

“Stay back, Carter!”

Then I learned why she flexed her fingers before. Chelsea flexed her hand backwards and from under her sleeve, without warning, shot out some kind of retractable blade. She did the same with her other hand and stood ready to fight. The advancing men started pulling out their own weapons. Four of them pulled out collapsible batons and the other three pulled out knives. I noticed the crosses engraved into their outfits.

“Give us the kid,” said one of the men, his voice muffled a bit by the bandana over his mouth.

“Over my dead body!” said Chelsea. “You people aren't going to touch him ever again.” I looked at Chelsea. Did she know who these guys were?

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Assassin,” said the man. “Give us the kid.” Chelsea just glared at him. He glared back. “Alright then,” said the man. He addressed his men. “Kill her!” he ordered.

And with that, the men attacked, weapons raised. One man swung his baton at Chelsea’s head, but she quickly ducked, dodging the blow. The man lost his balance and Chelsea made him pay for it. To my continuing shock, she rammed her blade into the back of the man's neck, killing him instantly. I ducked to the ground out of fear and confusion. The floor was already soaked with blood.

Another man ran towards Chelsea, knife raised. Chelsea brought up her arm just as the man swung his knife. Her blade sparked against the knife. She swung at him, but he countered back. He swung again, but this time Chelsea used her blade to knock the attacker's knife from his hand. She drove her blade into his throat, bringing up another fountain of blood. I was still shaking on on the floor.

I didn't stay there for long, though. After Chelsea had taken out three more attackers, I instinctively started to get up to try and get away. I barely got five feet before another attacker grabbed me by the collar. He put his knife to my nose. I was hyperventilating at that point. I thought I was about to die. “Natasha and Trina are gonna be real happy to get you back,” he said menacingly. My eyes widened even further. Trina? As in my mother? Did she have something to do with this?

Suddenly, I heard the sixth body drop. And the next thing I knew, a huge bang filled the air and a bleeding hole appeared in the man's shoulder. He yelled in pain, and as he writhed, he accidentally slashed his knife across my nose. I yelled in pain as he lost his grip on me. I fell to the floor, gripping my bleeding face. Chelsea rushed up and aimed her still-smoking gun at the attacker. Another bang sounded as she ended his life.

She dropped the gun, retracted her blades, and knelt beside me. She pulled out a rag from her coat pocket and pressed it against my wound. “I'm so, so sorry, Carter,” she said, her guilt clearly showing. “You have no idea how much we tried to keep this from happening.” I was in too much pain and shock to talk, but my expression was enough to tell her that I forgave her for… whatever this was.

“Listen,” she said hurriedly. “I know this is a lot to take in, but we have to go now! They've probably got more people coming already.” I nodded through my tears and stood up with her. She managed to help me out to her car. We got in, and Chelsea slammed on the gas peddle. She drove through Indianapolis, trying her best to stop my bleeding at the same time. Eventually, we came to a large, abandoned-looking warehouse on the other side of town.

She rushed me out of her car and towards the building. She opened the door of one a nearby shipping container, and we entered, closing the door behind us. Chelsea quickly went over to a panel on the wall, opened it, and entered a code into the keypad that was hidden beneath. As she went back to applying pressure to my wound, the whole container shook. I could feel the room lower down like an elevator. It went down a few floors before stopping. Chelsea opened the door up and hurried me through.

We walked down a hallway and went through some double doors. We found ourselves in a giant room about the size of a large gymnasium that was full of crates and boxes of all sizes. Chelsea rushed me up a flight of stairs. We went through another set of double doors and found ourselves in a much nicer-looking area. It was the intersection of a large, wide hallway that branched off into several different hallways, each leading to a different room.

Chelsea hurried me into what I assumed was an infirmary, mainly due to all the medical stuff lying around. She grabbed a first-aid kit, sat me in a chair, and finally settled down to properly dress my wound.

I was still shaking pretty badly. I was still trying to comprehend what just happened. I looked at Chelsea. She looked awful. She clearly felt bad for letting that happen. “I'm so sorry,” she said again.

“It’s okay,” I managed to choke out.

“No, it's not. I should've fought harder.” We were silent for a moment.

“What's going on, Chelsea?” I asked, on the verge of tears. “Who were those guys? What did they want? Why did that one guy say something about my mom? Why did he call you an assassin?” Chelsea lowered her head. My questions kept coming. She knew it was gonna be a long night. She quickly texted Angie and my dad and then returned her attention to me.

“I guess you would've found out eventually,” she said, a hint of regret in her voice.

“Find out what?” I asked. She looked at me. “We need to have a long talk,” she said.

------------

After my wound was dressed, she moved me into a more comfortable room in that hidden place. It looked and felt a lot like a nice apartment. She sat me down on a couch, and told me everything.

“First off,” she said calmly, “it’s not assassin like you're probably thinking. It's Assassin. Capitalized.” She paused. “I'm part of the Assassin Brotherhood. We're a really old organization that fights to save people's freedoms.”

“There are others?” I said, trying to take this all in. Chelsea nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I'm an Assassin. So is my mom. So is your dad and Misty.” I looked at her. She nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “All of us. There's others too, of course. We've got a whole bunch of people all around the world, watching out for our enemies.”

“Like the guys that attacked us?” I asked.

Chelsea nodded. “That's right,” she said. “Those men, the ones that sent that fake text and trapped us, they were part of another group, the Templars. They're pretty much the scum of the Earth. The only thing they want is complete domination. They think freedom is evil, and that everyone should bow to them. We fight to make sure that doesn't happen.”

She paused, clearly not comfortable with what she was about to say.

“Your mom's a Templar,” she said slowly. I looked at her. So many things were racing through my head. “She's one of their best agents here in Indiana. There's only a few people above her in rank, like their leader.”

“Their leader?”

“Natasha Wolfgang, the Grand Master of the Hoosier Templars.”

“Isn't that the chick whose cousin was killed a few months ago?”

“Yeah, that's her. And her cousin, that was my work.” I gave her another look. She still clearly felt bad about bringing me into this. “He was a Templar,” she said, “and a corrupted one, too. He had to die before he destroyed the city.” There was another silence. I took a moment to absorb all this.

“We have a Creed,” Chelsea eventually said. “The Assassins. We have a Creed: Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.”

“What's that mean?”

“Saying nothing is true means that you realize that the only things that you can call true are the things that you as an individual decide are true. No one else can choose for you. Saying everything’s permitted means you realize that nothing is actually stopping you from doing anything. You can do whatever you want, but you have to deal with the consequences of whatever you do, whether good or bad.”

“I… I guess that makes sense.”

Chelsea nodded. I lowered my head.

“I…” I said. “I… didn't really expect you to be a killer...” Then Chelsea lowered her head.

“It’s not the most happy fun-time job in the world, I'll admit,” she said. We were silent again.

“Carter,” she said. “It need you to listen. Those guys, the Templars, they're gonna keep coming until they have you again. And each attack is gonna get more and more bloody. At this point, and I know it's a huge question, but I'm gonna have to ask you to decide what path you're gonna take from here. Option A: We keep you under 24/7 surveillance, hidden from the Templars forever, sad and lonely. Or option B: We could teach you to fight back, saving yourself and the city. It's your choice.”

I had to think about it. I knew the second option was the better choice. I was scared, but I wasn't stupid. I knew Chelsea was right. The Templars were going to keep coming, and it would be good if I could fight them back. But did I want to be a killer? Did I want to work to be the angel of death that Chelsea seemed to be? I didn't know.

“Can I… can I get a few hours to think about it?” I asked. Chelsea thought about it and then nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure, yeah.” I nodded.

Then, Chelsea finished with my wound and bandaged it up. It was going to leave a scar, a constant reminder of that day. I wear it proudly now, but during the first few weeks after the attack, it just depressed me. Chelsea motioned for me to get up and follow her. She held my hand, doing whatever came to her mind to comfort me. I was still shaking a bit. She led me to the enormous storage room we passed through before, walking us towards the exit. But even then, it seemed like we weren't out of the woods yet.

Suddenly, a bang was heard and a bullet whizzed passed our faces, just missing us. Chelsea instinctively pushed me behind her as a large man stepped into view from his hiding place. He had on a dark leather coat, and he held a pistol in his right hand. A cross was embroidered into his sleeve.

“Bringing in the big guns already?” said Chelsea. “Gotta say, Corbin, you Templars can be really impatient.” She flicked out her hidden blades again.

“Well,” said Corbin. “What's the point of wasting your pawns if you can take out half the board with your queen?”

“Your ‘queen’ sits in an office chair all day. You're just as much of a pawn as anyone else in your order.”

Corbin scowled. “We'll see how you think about my position when I turn your head into swiss cheese.” He raised his gun, ready to shoot. But Chelsea managed to clear the distance between her and him before any shots could go off. I ducked behind a crate for protection.

Chelsea used her blade to knock the gun from Corbin’s hand. It skidded across the floor and landed next to me. I just continued to watch. Chelsea swung at Corbin, but he dodged her attack and punched her in the head. As Chelsea regained her balance, Corbin pulled out a knife. He swung at her, but she managed to block it with her blades just in time. She punched Corbin square in the jaw. They kept slicing at each other, each one managing to put a few cuts on the other.

But suddenly, Corbin hit Chelsea again, and she fell to the floor. She tried to bring up her blades, but Corbin walked over and stepped on her arms, pinning her to the ground. “I admit,” he said. “You're a great fighter. But I'm better.” He crouched down, and raised his knife. My eyes widened as I looked around to see if I could do anything.

“And now,” said Corbin. “I'm gonna show you why I'm the best hitman the Templars have.” He pulled his arm back, ready to kill my cousin. “No!” I yelled. And then, without thinking, I grabbed Corbin’s lost gun, aimed, and fired. A bang filled the room as the bullet pierced Corbin’s chest. He shouted in pain as he dropped the knife and rolled off of Chelsea. She got up and rushed over to me. She slowly took the gun out of my shaking hands. We looked at the dying man in front of us.

Corbin was still alive, but barely. He clutched his wound as it bled out. Chelsea put a hand on my shoulder. “Don't let him die without a shot at redemption,” she told me. “Even if he is a scumbag, you should hear his last words.” I looked at Chelsea, then at Corbin. Then, slowly, I made my way over and crouched beside the man. He looked at me with dying eyes.

“So this is what kills me, huh?” he said. “Some kid with a lucky shot? I'd hoped I'd die from an Assassin's blade, even if I was too good to let that happen.”

“Why are you people doing this?” I asked. Corbin just chuckled painfully.

“We've got power,” he said. “We've got to enforce it. You were meant to be a guinea pig for a new method of control.”

“I… I earned my freedom. I won't let your people take it.”

“Ugh, you Assassins and your freedom. When are you going to learn? You can't win with freedom. Power, control, oppression, it keeps people in line.”

“It’s not right.”

“It is for us.”

“What makes you so special?” Corbin didn't respond to that. He just kind of smiled. He coughed up some blood, and then he died. I just stared at him. Chelsea knelt by my side and closed Corbin’s eyes. “Rest in peace,” she said softly.

She stared at me. I stared at her. And at that moment, I knew what path I had to take. I had my values. I had my beliefs. And now, I had enemies. I made my choice.

I looked at Chelsea and I told her, “I'm in.”