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April 11, 2014; Indianapolis, Indiana

You know, I'm really glad it was a Friday. Because at least I had some time to heal up my wounds from the massive pounding I took from Patrick Lawrence. At least I had time to heal to a state where people at school wouldn't ask too many questions. I mean, they asked questions anyway. People always seem to ask about the scar I got during that first Templar attack in December. I lied to them, of course. I tell people I got it by being thwacked by a tree branch. It's usually a good enough excuse for most people. But, yeah, it can be hard to explain away the times when I walk in with a black eye or a cut-up cheek or small patches of bloodstains on my clothes that wouldn't come out. It's always good when I have time to get myself back to health before school.

But I'm getting off track…

Patrick Lawrence apparently was a much, much tougher target than Chelsea and I anticipated. We tried our plan of attack that Friday. We stood outside the police station, waiting for the guy to come out. Our wait payed off around six-thirty. The hulk of a man came barging out the front door, pulling on his jacket with a frown, as well as his hat. Another officer chased after him. He was thinner, more well-groomed, and wore glasses. He clearly wasn't happy with Lawrence.

“Answer the question, Patrick!” demanded the other cop. The Templar just rolled his eyes and kept walking away. The other cop ran up to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and spun him around. The two stared angrily at each other.

“Did you order that attack?” the other cop demanded to know. “Those men were under your command when they gunned that civilian down. Did you order them to attack?” Patrick shook off the cop's hand.

“No,” he said in his raspy voice. “No, Henry, I didn't. My men acted on their own, as I trust them to do.”

“They shot an innocent man dead!” said Henry.

“And I'm sure they had a reason. My men are trained to keep order. And if a few civilian lives need to be taken for that to happen, then so be it.”

“I should run you in myself, Lawrence.”

Lawrence just kind of smirked at that. He leaned in close to Henry's face. “I'd like to see you try,” he said. And with that, he walked to his car, and drove off. Henry stomped his foot, defeated. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Chelsea looked at me and motioned for me to follow. I nodded and we stepped out of our hiding place. We walked up to him.

“Everything okay?” asked Chelsea. Henry looked up to address us. He shook his head. “Oh, I'm fine,” he said. “I just can't stand the people I have to work with.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Nothing for you kids to worry about,” said Henry.

“Your friend seemed… rough,” said Chelsea.

Henry laughed at that.

“Trust me, he's anything but my ‘friend’,” he said. He hung his head and sighed. “Look, I'm not gonna lie. That man, he's beyond corrupt. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he caused half the crimes we stop. But he covers his tracks so well. God… I don't know how he does it.”

“He probably has friends in high places,” I said subtly. Henry nodded. He looked at us. “Sorry, what are your names?” he asked.

“Carter,” I said.

“Chelsea,” said Chelsea. Henry nodded and shook our hands. “Henry Grayson,” he said. He paused. “How old are you?” he asked, realizing that we seemed a bit younger than he originally figured.

“Eighteen,” I lied.

“Twenty,” Chelsea lied. Chelsea could easily lie about her age. She was a bit short, but she definitely looked older than her eighteen years at the time. The highest age she's gone so far is twenty-five. I had a slightly harder time. Being fourteen at the time (I turned fifteen two weeks later), I looked pretty young. But, I have what Chelsea calls ‘old eyes’, which apparently makes me seem older. I think the highest I've gotten away with at that age was nineteen. Fake IDs help too when we have them.

Henry seemed to believe us and he nodded. “Well, honestly it wouldn't surprise me if Lawrence was in with some horrible people,” he said. “You know, the worst part about it is, he thinks he's doing the right thing. He's so obsessed with order that he'll do anything to keep it, even if it includes slaughtering the people that we've vowed to keep safe and free.”

“True order comes from freedom and responsibility,” I said. Henry looked at me and gave a faint smile.

“That's right,” he said. His expression darkened again, though. “It’s been a pleasure, kids,” he said. “But I have to get back to work.” We nodded and we shook his hand. “Stay safe,” he said with a smile. We nodded and he returned to the police station. Once he was gone, Chelsea led me away. “He’d make a great ally to the Assassins,” she said.

“If we could take out Lawrence and give Henry some influence,” I said, “then we could slip the Templars’ main defense right out from under their feet.”

“And then we'd have that fighting chance that we desperately need.”

“Exactly!” We smiled at each other. The idea of taking back the city from the Templar tyrants was starting to actually seem plausible. “Come on,” I said. “Let's go find our target.”

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

God, my head hurts just from remembering what happened next. We found Lawrence around nine o'clock that night in some bar near the edge of the city. We waited outside until he came out, half-drunk, and started walking home. Chelsea nodded to me and we followed him close. Eventually, the Templar took a wrong turn, and soon stumbled into an alleyway.

Lawrence grumbled with annoyance once he realized he was lost. As he started looking around to get a sense of his surroundings, Chelsea and I started stealthily sneaking up behind him. We split up, each moving around a different side. I took the right, she took the left. I was only a few yards away, hidden in the shadows. Once I was close enough, I flicked my wrist and my hidden blade sprang out with a snick. And then Lawrence flinched.

And it was at that moment that I knew that we were screwed.

In a split-second, he threw a hard punch that hit me right in the jaw. As I stumbled backwards, Chelsea abandoned stealth and tried to drive her hidden blade into the Templar. However, Lawrence hit her forearm with his and countered the blow. He shoved her back and punched her to the ground. I recovered from my blow, my lip bleeding, and grabbed my baton. As I rushed at Lawrence, I flicked my weapon out to full length and directed a blow at his skull. He spun around, however, grabbed my baton as it came down, and twisted it hard.

The force threw me off balance, and Lawrence used that window of opportunity to punch me on the nose, tearing my scar a bit. I started falling to the ground, and he kept landing punches, bloodying my face. Chelsea got back up, drew her knife, and charged with a yell. Lawrence smirked and spun around again. He grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and Chelsea dropped her knife with a yell of pain. Lawrence punched her a few times like he did with me, and then he threw her hard on top of me. We were down. We lost.

Lawrence stood over us, smirking. He chuckled drunkenly. “You Assassins are pathetic,” he said. “You're not even worth finishing off. No wonder you're on the losing side of this war.” He gave us one last hard kick before turning and leaving.

After a moment of catching our breath, Chelsea stumbled painfully off of me and we both stood up. We looked at each other in defeat, each of us bloodied and bruised. “You okay?” asked Chelsea.

“Yeah,” I said painfully. “You?”

“Yeah. I'm fine. He only kicked me in the side thankfully.”

I was a bit confused as to why that little detail was significant to her, but I shrugged it off at the time.

“So that went horribly,” I said, rubbing my bloody head.

“No kidding.”

“What're we gonna do now?”

“Well, first, we better head back to the hideout and stitch ourselves up.”

I nodded in agreement. And with that, we limped our way back to the Assassin warehouse, trying to figure out what we would do next.

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

“Ouch!” I said as Chelsea pulled the thread and needle through my wound.

“Well, quit squirmin’ and it won't hurt so much, squirt,” said Chelsea.

“I can't help it! I hate needles…”

“You should see your dad when he's around needles. He goes into full on panic mode.” She stitched up my wound a bit further.

“So… ow!... What are… ow!... we gonna do?... ow!” I asked her. She stitched the last thread and cut it off the needle. She grabbed a few bandages and started wrapping them around my shoulder.

“I don't know,” she said. “I mean, we can't go after him when he's alone and we can't reach him any other time because he's surrounded by his men.” She finished my bandages and got to work on her own cuts. Suddenly, an idea struck. “What if we use that against him?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we strike when he and his men are in like a big shootout or something. Everyone would be scattering around and unfocused. He'd be trapped in a fog of people.”

“And we could slip through that fog and take him out...”

“Exactly!”

“Sounds like a plan!” We smiled at each other. With our new plan, we had a new hope. We had a second chance, and we were gonna take it.

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

April 26, 2014; Indianapolis, Indiana

We got our perfect chance a few weeks later, on April 26, my birthday. I got a phone call that night from Jonathan, who was practically screaming into the phone. Even so, it was still hard to hear him over the rattle of dozens of guns being shot off in the background. I managed to hear the important part, though: the part about Patrick Lawrence. Jonathan gave me the location of the shootout before hanging up.

I grabbed my gear, threw on my hoodie, and darted out of my apartment. I dialed Chelsea’s number as I ran. Once she answered, I told her the situation.

“Alright,” she said, “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“If you meet me along the way, go ahead and pick me up.”

“Gotchya.” We said goodbye and hung up.

I made it across the city, both by freerunning and by hitching rides on top of buses. And soon enough, I started to hear yelling and shooting in the distance, near one of the Eagle Eyes’ territories.

It was raining pretty hard that night. That's Indiana for you. We get way too much rain here. But thankfully, we were able to use it to our advantage that night. It would just add to the fog of chaos that was going to cloak us.

Speaking of ‘us’, Chelsea finally showed up. She spotted me and parked her car near where I was. She hopped out, noticeably more groggily than she normally would. Grant it, it was around ten o'clock at night, but she still seemed abnormally tired, even for her. Still, she was battle-ready. She rushed up to my side, we nodded to each other, and we ran towards the chaos in the storm. Police sirens were flashing, guns were smoking, both cops and gang members were shouting and running about. It was an all-out war zone.

To our surprise, Henry Grayson was on the edge of the shootout, trying to calm things down on the police side of the fight. We rushed up to him. He looked wide-eyed at us. “What are you two doing here?” he shouted.

“We were in the neighborhood,” I said.

“What happened?” asked Chelsea.

Henry just stared. “Get out of here! Get somewhere safe!”

“Henry, what happened?” Chelsea repeated.

“I… ugh… Lawrence and his men started this mess with this gang, one that is actually willing to help the police by the way, and now it's out of hand! Now, please, just go!”

“Where's Lawrence?” I asked. Henry seemed dumbfounded by the fact that we were still in front of him. “What?... I… He's on the other side trying to slaughter our allies! God, I'm going to run him in after this. He's gone too far. For the last time, go!”

“Gotchya,” I said. “Thanks.” Then, Chelsea and I pulled out our guns and cocked them. Henry's jaw dropped. “What are you…?”

“We're here to help, Henry. Trust us,” said Chelsea. Chelsea knelt down behind a police car and started shooting at the enemy. I noticed that she seemed to instinctively grab her stomach as she did. Not like she was in pain, but something else I couldn't quite put my finger on... Again, I shrugged it off.

“How old did you say you were?” Henry asked, not really sure what else to say.

“Nineteen,” I lied.

“Twenty-one,” Chelsea lied. She turned to me. “I'll stay here and defend the edges,” she said. “You go in and take out our target.” I nodded. And with that, I lunged over the police car into the battle beyond, firing off shots at the enemy. I kept my eyes on everyone's hands. I made sure to only shoot the ones with Templar rings.

Soon enough, I made it to the other side of the fight. Luckily, I found Jonathan taking cover behind an old rusted car. I took cover beside him.

“Thank god you made it, man!” he said.

“Well, I wouldn't want to miss this party now would I?” Another hail of bullets whizzed over our heads.

“What do we do, man?” asked Jonathan frantically.

“I'm gonna try to take out their leader,” I said. “If I can take him out, the Templar cops are gonna start to disorganize. When they do that, you and our allies on the other side can take it from there.”

“Sounds good.”

We both quickly looked over the hood of the car and let off a few shots. Then we ducked right back behind our cover.

“So where's Patrick Lawrence?” I asked.

“He's in the building behind us. A lot of our guys are in there trying to fight his men off.”

“Great. I'm heading in.”

“Good luck!”

“You too.”

I let off a few more shots, reloaded my pistol, and darted to the old, abandoned apartment building behind us. I immediately found a few allies and asked them to help me out. They of course agreed and we made our way through the halls. Lightning struck outside, lighting up the room for a second. In that second, we spotted a few Templar goons about to fire at us. We ducked behind cover and shot back. The Templars fell dead and we kept moving.

Once we got to the third floor, I heard Lawrence shouting in the other room. I motioned for my allies to follow. As I was about to enter the room, a Templar rushed in front of me. Before he could draw his gun, I flicked out my hidden blade and jabbed it into his chest. I pushed past his body as it fell and I entered the room. Sure enough, there was Lawrence. He and his men were scattering around the room, shooting more of my allies. My group of allies and I managed to shoot dead four Templars before Lawrence and his men turned to see us.

“You!” said Lawrence. “Haven't you learned your lesson, kid?”

“Hmm… No, not really,” I said jokingly.

“Go figure. You Assassins never learn.” He raised his gun. My allies and I took cover as the Templars fired towards us. Everyone scattered around the room, switching covers and shooting their guns. Bodies dropped every now and then, though thankfully more of the Templars fell than us. The rain roared outside, slamming down on the rooftop. All of the sights and sounds blended into one chaotic cacophony, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

It got to a point where there were only two men standing at Lawrence’s side. And they were both shot. My allies and I started moving in on the final Templar. Like a cornered lion, he lashed out, firing in random directions, trying to get us away. I made my way behind different covers, until eventually I got behind him. I snatched my baton and flicked it out just as Lawrence turned around. Before he could raise his gun, I whacked him hard in the head, disorienting him. I used that moment to whack his gun away. And in one fluid movement, I flicked out my hidden blade and rammed it into his chest. He let out a yell, coughed blood, and fell to the floor.

My allies relaxed a bit, but they still stood guard in case any more Templars were on the way. I retracted my weapons and stood over Lawrence, who still had a bit of life in him, though not for long.

“Your reign of terror’s at it's end,” I said to him as I knelt beside him. He painfully looked at me.

“Then the city's doomed to crash and burn,” he said.

“Crash and burn? With you gone, it's gonna be a much nicer place.”

“You're so short-sighted. The people need someone to keep them in line. And the best way to do that is to make them fear their superiors. Without that, everything will dive into disorder”

“People are fully capable of keeping themselves in line. They don't need a dictator like you to bully them.”

“So you'd rather have someone like Henry in charge?”

“No one will be in charge. Freedom's going to reign.”

“And that… is what's going to burn this place to the ground…” He took his last breath, and died. I closed his eyes and pulled out an eagle-patterned post-it note.

“Fear and control may be orderly, but so are compromise and freedom. And those are the things that will truly bring peace,” I said. I put the post-it on his corpse. “Rest in peace,” I said. I stood, and put my baton back in its sheath.

“Look! They're runnin’!” said one of my allies, who was looking out the window. I went over to a window to see what he meant as my allies cheered in victory. Sure enough, the Templars were fleeing. Without their leader to defend them, they were criminals. Unfortunately for them, our ally cops were already surrounding them, demanding that they surrender, which they did. I smiled at our victory. Suddenly, I heard footsteps rushing towards the room. Seconds later, Chelsea, Henry, and a few more policemen came in. The cops looked at Lawrence’s body and started working on removing it.

Chelsea came up and hugged me. “We did it!” she said.

“Yeah!” She let go and smiled at me.

“We might actually have a fighting chance now!” she said.

“I know!”

Suddenly, Henry cleared his throat. We turned and looked at him. “Are you kids going to explain what's going on?” he asked.

Chelsea and I looked at each other and then back to Henry.

“Let's head back to the other side,” I said. “We'll explain on the way.”

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

“So let me make sure I have this right,” said Henry as we made it to Chelsea’s car. Chelsea pulled out a few umbrellas for us as we talked. “You two are members of a secret brotherhood of freedom-fighters…” said Henry.

“Uh huh,” said Chelsea.

“And you're fighting against another secret order that's trying to not just take over Indianapolis, but the world?”

“Yep,” I said.

“And you want me and my fellow policemen to help you in that fight so that we can ensure freedom for the human race?”

“Pretty much,” said Chelsea. Henry rubbed his eyes. “This is… a lot to take in…” he said.

“We know,” I said. “But we really do need your help. If you and your cops and Jonathan and the Eagle Eyes can help get rid of the Templars’ influence in Indianapolis, then we might just be able to take back the city from them.”

Henry was quiet as he thought.

“Are you in?” asked Chelsea. Henry looked at us. He saw our pleading expressions. He sighed. “I'm in,” he said. “For the good of the people, I'm in.” Chelsea and I grinned and Henry gave us a weak smile.

“Thank you so much!” we said. He nodded.

“So what should we do?” he asked.

“We've taken out the Templars’ main players in the field of combat,” said Chelsea, “but there's still a ton of them at large. There's still gangs and cops they control and we need you to help us track them down and stop them.”

“Well, now that I have all my men behind me, that should be pretty easy, though it's probably gonna take a while to take them all down.”

“Every little bit helps,” I said. Henry nodded.

“Well, we'd better get going,” I said. Chelsea agreed.

“I'll keep in touch,” said Henry. We nodded. All three of us said our goodbyes, and then Chelsea and I got in her car. She started the engine up. Henry tapped on the window, and Chelsea rolled it down a bit.

“By the way,” said Henry to her. “Congratulations.” Chelsea smiled and thanked him. He smiled, waved goodbye, and Chelsea drove off.

I raised an eyebrow as she drove. I looked over at her. “What was that about?” I asked.

She looked at me and then back at the road. “What?” she asked.

“What was Henry congratulating you for?”

“Oh… nothing.” She seemed to really want to shrug the topic off. I looked at her.

“Chelsea…”

“It’s nothing.”

“Chelsea.”

“I mean it. It's nothing.”

“Come on, Chels.” She looked at me for a while. Then she sighed. “Alright. Fine. Guess you would've found out eventually anyway.” I looked at her, waiting for what she was about to say.

“I'm pregnant,” she said. My eyes widened.

“Wait. Really?” I said, surprised. She nodded.

“Who's the father?” I asked.

“My fiance,” she said.

“You have a fiance?”

“I thought I told you?”

“You never told me.”

She sighed. “Go on,” she said. “Give me the same crap your dad and stepmom do. Tell me how ‘irresponsible’ a person I am and how my life's gonna go downhill or some crap.” I was silent.

“I… I wasn't gonna say any of that,” I said. She looked at me.

“Wait what?”

“I mean, I'm not gonna lie, Chels, I am kinda surprised that you of all people would go and get married and pregnant that early in life, and I do think that's a really dumb move, but I'm not gonna judge you for it. I know you. You're the kind of person to look life in the eye and take it head on, even when things are at their worst. So, even though, yeah, starting a family that early is not a smart move in my book, I know that there's no one more qualified to take on that situation than you.”

Chelsea just kinda looked at me. A big smile appeared on her face. “I… Really?” I nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. I returned her smile and nodded again. She looked back at the road. That's when a realization dawned on me.

“Oh god…” I said. “If you're pregnant, then you won't be able to be out in the field with me for a while.”

“Yeah… but I promise, I'll help where I can as I can. I'm not just gonna sit back and let the Templars undo everything we've done.”

I nodded. I was disappointed that I wouldn't have my cousin by my side for a while, but I didn't let it show. “Besides,” Chelsea said, “I know you'll be more than able to take on missions alone. You've become a great Assassin.”

“I learned from the best.” Chelsea smiled at that.

“You'll do great, squirt,” she said. “Once we've taken out most of the Templars’ influence on the streets, they'll start shaking in their shoes when we come for them.” I nodded. We smiled reassuringly at each other. We were quiet for a moment.

“Dweeb,” I said jokingly.

“Squirt,” she responded. We both laughed as we kept driving through the storm that was pounding on the city.

Description
April 11, 2014; Indianapolis, Indiana

You know, I'm really glad it was a Friday. Because at least I had some time to heal up my wounds from the massive pounding I took from Patrick Lawrence. At least I had time to heal to a state where people at school wouldn't ask too many questions. I mean, they asked questions anyway. People always seem to ask about the scar I got during that first Templar attack in December. I lied to them, of course. I tell people I got it by being thwacked by a tree branch. It's usually a good enough excuse for most people. But, yeah, it can be hard to explain away the times when I walk in with a black eye or a cut-up cheek or small patches of bloodstains on my clothes that wouldn't come out. It's always good when I have time to get myself back to health before school.

But I'm getting off track…

Patrick Lawrence apparently was a much, much tougher target than Chelsea and I anticipated. We tried our plan of attack that Friday. We stood outside the police station, waiting for the guy to come out. Our wait payed off around six-thirty. The hulk of a man came barging out the front door, pulling on his jacket with a frown, as well as his hat. Another officer chased after him. He was thinner, more well-groomed, and wore glasses. He clearly wasn't happy with Lawrence.

“Answer the question, Patrick!” demanded the other cop. The Templar just rolled his eyes and kept walking away. The other cop ran up to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and spun him around. The two stared angrily at each other.

“Did you order that attack?” the other cop demanded to know. “Those men were under your command when they gunned that civilian down. Did you order them to attack?” Patrick shook off the cop's hand.

“No,” he said in his raspy voice. “No, Henry, I didn't. My men acted on their own, as I trust them to do.”

“They shot an innocent man dead!” said Henry.

“And I'm sure they had a reason. My men are trained to keep order. And if a few civilian lives need to be taken for that to happen, then so be it.”

“I should run you in myself, Lawrence.”

Lawrence just kind of smirked at that. He leaned in close to Henry's face. “I'd like to see you try,” he said. And with that, he walked to his car, and drove off. Henry stomped his foot, defeated. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Chelsea looked at me and motioned for me to follow. I nodded and we stepped out of our hiding place. We walked up to him.

“Everything okay?” asked Chelsea. Henry looked up to address us. He shook his head. “Oh, I'm fine,” he said. “I just can't stand the people I have to work with.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Nothing for you kids to worry about,” said Henry.

“Your friend seemed… rough,” said Chelsea.

Henry laughed at that.

“Trust me, he's anything but my ‘friend’,” he said. He hung his head and sighed. “Look, I'm not gonna lie. That man, he's beyond corrupt. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he caused half the crimes we stop. But he covers his tracks so well. God… I don't know how he does it.”

“He probably has friends in high places,” I said subtly. Henry nodded. He looked at us. “Sorry, what are your names?” he asked.

“Carter,” I said.

“Chelsea,” said Chelsea. Henry nodded and shook our hands. “Henry Grayson,” he said. He paused. “How old are you?” he asked, realizing that we seemed a bit younger than he originally figured.

“Eighteen,” I lied.

“Twenty,” Chelsea lied. Chelsea could easily lie about her age. She was a bit short, but she definitely looked older than her eighteen years at the time. The highest age she's gone so far is twenty-five. I had a slightly harder time. Being fourteen at the time (I turned fifteen two weeks later), I looked pretty young. But, I have what Chelsea calls ‘old eyes’, which apparently makes me seem older. I think the highest I've gotten away with at that age was nineteen. Fake IDs help too when we have them.

Henry seemed to believe us and he nodded. “Well, honestly it wouldn't surprise me if Lawrence was in with some horrible people,” he said. “You know, the worst part about it is, he thinks he's doing the right thing. He's so obsessed with order that he'll do anything to keep it, even if it includes slaughtering the people that we've vowed to keep safe and free.”

“True order comes from freedom and responsibility,” I said. Henry looked at me and gave a faint smile.

“That's right,” he said. His expression darkened again, though. “It’s been a pleasure, kids,” he said. “But I have to get back to work.” We nodded and we shook his hand. “Stay safe,” he said with a smile. We nodded and he returned to the police station. Once he was gone, Chelsea led me away. “He’d make a great ally to the Assassins,” she said.

“If we could take out Lawrence and give Henry some influence,” I said, “then we could slip the Templars’ main defense right out from under their feet.”

“And then we'd have that fighting chance that we desperately need.”

“Exactly!” We smiled at each other. The idea of taking back the city from the Templar tyrants was starting to actually seem plausible. “Come on,” I said. “Let's go find our target.”

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

God, my head hurts just from remembering what happened next. We found Lawrence around nine o'clock that night in some bar near the edge of the city. We waited outside until he came out, half-drunk, and started walking home. Chelsea nodded to me and we followed him close. Eventually, the Templar took a wrong turn, and soon stumbled into an alleyway.

Lawrence grumbled with annoyance once he realized he was lost. As he started looking around to get a sense of his surroundings, Chelsea and I started stealthily sneaking up behind him. We split up, each moving around a different side. I took the right, she took the left. I was only a few yards away, hidden in the shadows. Once I was close enough, I flicked my wrist and my hidden blade sprang out with a snick. And then Lawrence flinched.

And it was at that moment that I knew that we were screwed.

In a split-second, he threw a hard punch that hit me right in the jaw. As I stumbled backwards, Chelsea abandoned stealth and tried to drive her hidden blade into the Templar. However, Lawrence hit her forearm with his and countered the blow. He shoved her back and punched her to the ground. I recovered from my blow, my lip bleeding, and grabbed my baton. As I rushed at Lawrence, I flicked my weapon out to full length and directed a blow at his skull. He spun around, however, grabbed my baton as it came down, and twisted it hard.

The force threw me off balance, and Lawrence used that window of opportunity to punch me on the nose, tearing my scar a bit. I started falling to the ground, and he kept landing punches, bloodying my face. Chelsea got back up, drew her knife, and charged with a yell. Lawrence smirked and spun around again. He grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and Chelsea dropped her knife with a yell of pain. Lawrence punched her a few times like he did with me, and then he threw her hard on top of me. We were down. We lost.

Lawrence stood over us, smirking. He chuckled drunkenly. “You Assassins are pathetic,” he said. “You're not even worth finishing off. No wonder you're on the losing side of this war.” He gave us one last hard kick before turning and leaving.

After a moment of catching our breath, Chelsea stumbled painfully off of me and we both stood up. We looked at each other in defeat, each of us bloodied and bruised. “You okay?” asked Chelsea.

“Yeah,” I said painfully. “You?”

“Yeah. I'm fine. He only kicked me in the side thankfully.”

I was a bit confused as to why that little detail was significant to her, but I shrugged it off at the time.

“So that went horribly,” I said, rubbing my bloody head.

“No kidding.”

“What're we gonna do now?”

“Well, first, we better head back to the hideout and stitch ourselves up.”

I nodded in agreement. And with that, we limped our way back to the Assassin warehouse, trying to figure out what we would do next.

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

“Ouch!” I said as Chelsea pulled the thread and needle through my wound.

“Well, quit squirmin’ and it won't hurt so much, squirt,” said Chelsea.

“I can't help it! I hate needles…”

“You should see your dad when he's around needles. He goes into full on panic mode.” She stitched up my wound a bit further.

“So… ow!... What are… ow!... we gonna do?... ow!” I asked her. She stitched the last thread and cut it off the needle. She grabbed a few bandages and started wrapping them around my shoulder.

“I don't know,” she said. “I mean, we can't go after him when he's alone and we can't reach him any other time because he's surrounded by his men.” She finished my bandages and got to work on her own cuts. Suddenly, an idea struck. “What if we use that against him?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we strike when he and his men are in like a big shootout or something. Everyone would be scattering around and unfocused. He'd be trapped in a fog of people.”

“And we could slip through that fog and take him out...”

“Exactly!”

“Sounds like a plan!” We smiled at each other. With our new plan, we had a new hope. We had a second chance, and we were gonna take it.

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April 26, 2014; Indianapolis, Indiana

We got our perfect chance a few weeks later, on April 26, my birthday. I got a phone call that night from Jonathan, who was practically screaming into the phone. Even so, it was still hard to hear him over the rattle of dozens of guns being shot off in the background. I managed to hear the important part, though: the part about Patrick Lawrence. Jonathan gave me the location of the shootout before hanging up.

I grabbed my gear, threw on my hoodie, and darted out of my apartment. I dialed Chelsea’s number as I ran. Once she answered, I told her the situation.

“Alright,” she said, “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“If you meet me along the way, go ahead and pick me up.”

“Gotchya.” We said goodbye and hung up.

I made it across the city, both by freerunning and by hitching rides on top of buses. And soon enough, I started to hear yelling and shooting in the distance, near one of the Eagle Eyes’ territories.

It was raining pretty hard that night. That's Indiana for you. We get way too much rain here. But thankfully, we were able to use it to our advantage that night. It would just add to the fog of chaos that was going to cloak us.

Speaking of ‘us’, Chelsea finally showed up. She spotted me and parked her car near where I was. She hopped out, noticeably more groggily than she normally would. Grant it, it was around ten o'clock at night, but she still seemed abnormally tired, even for her. Still, she was battle-ready. She rushed up to my side, we nodded to each other, and we ran towards the chaos in the storm. Police sirens were flashing, guns were smoking, both cops and gang members were shouting and running about. It was an all-out war zone.

To our surprise, Henry Grayson was on the edge of the shootout, trying to calm things down on the police side of the fight. We rushed up to him. He looked wide-eyed at us. “What are you two doing here?” he shouted.

“We were in the neighborhood,” I said.

“What happened?” asked Chelsea.

Henry just stared. “Get out of here! Get somewhere safe!”

“Henry, what happened?” Chelsea repeated.

“I… ugh… Lawrence and his men started this mess with this gang, one that is actually willing to help the police by the way, and now it's out of hand! Now, please, just go!”

“Where's Lawrence?” I asked. Henry seemed dumbfounded by the fact that we were still in front of him. “What?... I… He's on the other side trying to slaughter our allies! God, I'm going to run him in after this. He's gone too far. For the last time, go!”

“Gotchya,” I said. “Thanks.” Then, Chelsea and I pulled out our guns and cocked them. Henry's jaw dropped. “What are you…?”

“We're here to help, Henry. Trust us,” said Chelsea. Chelsea knelt down behind a police car and started shooting at the enemy. I noticed that she seemed to instinctively grab her stomach as she did. Not like she was in pain, but something else I couldn't quite put my finger on... Again, I shrugged it off.

“How old did you say you were?” Henry asked, not really sure what else to say.

“Nineteen,” I lied.

“Twenty-one,” Chelsea lied. She turned to me. “I'll stay here and defend the edges,” she said. “You go in and take out our target.” I nodded. And with that, I lunged over the police car into the battle beyond, firing off shots at the enemy. I kept my eyes on everyone's hands. I made sure to only shoot the ones with Templar rings.

Soon enough, I made it to the other side of the fight. Luckily, I found Jonathan taking cover behind an old rusted car. I took cover beside him.

“Thank god you made it, man!” he said.

“Well, I wouldn't want to miss this party now would I?” Another hail of bullets whizzed over our heads.

“What do we do, man?” asked Jonathan frantically.

“I'm gonna try to take out their leader,” I said. “If I can take him out, the Templar cops are gonna start to disorganize. When they do that, you and our allies on the other side can take it from there.”

“Sounds good.”

We both quickly looked over the hood of the car and let off a few shots. Then we ducked right back behind our cover.

“So where's Patrick Lawrence?” I asked.

“He's in the building behind us. A lot of our guys are in there trying to fight his men off.”

“Great. I'm heading in.”

“Good luck!”

“You too.”

I let off a few more shots, reloaded my pistol, and darted to the old, abandoned apartment building behind us. I immediately found a few allies and asked them to help me out. They of course agreed and we made our way through the halls. Lightning struck outside, lighting up the room for a second. In that second, we spotted a few Templar goons about to fire at us. We ducked behind cover and shot back. The Templars fell dead and we kept moving.

Once we got to the third floor, I heard Lawrence shouting in the other room. I motioned for my allies to follow. As I was about to enter the room, a Templar rushed in front of me. Before he could draw his gun, I flicked out my hidden blade and jabbed it into his chest. I pushed past his body as it fell and I entered the room. Sure enough, there was Lawrence. He and his men were scattering around the room, shooting more of my allies. My group of allies and I managed to shoot dead four Templars before Lawrence and his men turned to see us.

“You!” said Lawrence. “Haven't you learned your lesson, kid?”

“Hmm… No, not really,” I said jokingly.

“Go figure. You Assassins never learn.” He raised his gun. My allies and I took cover as the Templars fired towards us. Everyone scattered around the room, switching covers and shooting their guns. Bodies dropped every now and then, though thankfully more of the Templars fell than us. The rain roared outside, slamming down on the rooftop. All of the sights and sounds blended into one chaotic cacophony, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

It got to a point where there were only two men standing at Lawrence’s side. And they were both shot. My allies and I started moving in on the final Templar. Like a cornered lion, he lashed out, firing in random directions, trying to get us away. I made my way behind different covers, until eventually I got behind him. I snatched my baton and flicked it out just as Lawrence turned around. Before he could raise his gun, I whacked him hard in the head, disorienting him. I used that moment to whack his gun away. And in one fluid movement, I flicked out my hidden blade and rammed it into his chest. He let out a yell, coughed blood, and fell to the floor.

My allies relaxed a bit, but they still stood guard in case any more Templars were on the way. I retracted my weapons and stood over Lawrence, who still had a bit of life in him, though not for long.

“Your reign of terror’s at it's end,” I said to him as I knelt beside him. He painfully looked at me.

“Then the city's doomed to crash and burn,” he said.

“Crash and burn? With you gone, it's gonna be a much nicer place.”

“You're so short-sighted. The people need someone to keep them in line. And the best way to do that is to make them fear their superiors. Without that, everything will dive into disorder”

“People are fully capable of keeping themselves in line. They don't need a dictator like you to bully them.”

“So you'd rather have someone like Henry in charge?”

“No one will be in charge. Freedom's going to reign.”

“And that… is what's going to burn this place to the ground…” He took his last breath, and died. I closed his eyes and pulled out an eagle-patterned post-it note.

“Fear and control may be orderly, but so are compromise and freedom. And those are the things that will truly bring peace,” I said. I put the post-it on his corpse. “Rest in peace,” I said. I stood, and put my baton back in its sheath.

“Look! They're runnin’!” said one of my allies, who was looking out the window. I went over to a window to see what he meant as my allies cheered in victory. Sure enough, the Templars were fleeing. Without their leader to defend them, they were criminals. Unfortunately for them, our ally cops were already surrounding them, demanding that they surrender, which they did. I smiled at our victory. Suddenly, I heard footsteps rushing towards the room. Seconds later, Chelsea, Henry, and a few more policemen came in. The cops looked at Lawrence’s body and started working on removing it.

Chelsea came up and hugged me. “We did it!” she said.

“Yeah!” She let go and smiled at me.

“We might actually have a fighting chance now!” she said.

“I know!”

Suddenly, Henry cleared his throat. We turned and looked at him. “Are you kids going to explain what's going on?” he asked.

Chelsea and I looked at each other and then back to Henry.

“Let's head back to the other side,” I said. “We'll explain on the way.”

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“So let me make sure I have this right,” said Henry as we made it to Chelsea’s car. Chelsea pulled out a few umbrellas for us as we talked. “You two are members of a secret brotherhood of freedom-fighters…” said Henry.

“Uh huh,” said Chelsea.

“And you're fighting against another secret order that's trying to not just take over Indianapolis, but the world?”

“Yep,” I said.

“And you want me and my fellow policemen to help you in that fight so that we can ensure freedom for the human race?”

“Pretty much,” said Chelsea. Henry rubbed his eyes. “This is… a lot to take in…” he said.

“We know,” I said. “But we really do need your help. If you and your cops and Jonathan and the Eagle Eyes can help get rid of the Templars’ influence in Indianapolis, then we might just be able to take back the city from them.”

Henry was quiet as he thought.

“Are you in?” asked Chelsea. Henry looked at us. He saw our pleading expressions. He sighed. “I'm in,” he said. “For the good of the people, I'm in.” Chelsea and I grinned and Henry gave us a weak smile.

“Thank you so much!” we said. He nodded.

“So what should we do?” he asked.

“We've taken out the Templars’ main players in the field of combat,” said Chelsea, “but there's still a ton of them at large. There's still gangs and cops they control and we need you to help us track them down and stop them.”

“Well, now that I have all my men behind me, that should be pretty easy, though it's probably gonna take a while to take them all down.”

“Every little bit helps,” I said. Henry nodded.

“Well, we'd better get going,” I said. Chelsea agreed.

“I'll keep in touch,” said Henry. We nodded. All three of us said our goodbyes, and then Chelsea and I got in her car. She started the engine up. Henry tapped on the window, and Chelsea rolled it down a bit.

“By the way,” said Henry to her. “Congratulations.” Chelsea smiled and thanked him. He smiled, waved goodbye, and Chelsea drove off.

I raised an eyebrow as she drove. I looked over at her. “What was that about?” I asked.

She looked at me and then back at the road. “What?” she asked.

“What was Henry congratulating you for?”

“Oh… nothing.” She seemed to really want to shrug the topic off. I looked at her.

“Chelsea…”

“It’s nothing.”

“Chelsea.”

“I mean it. It's nothing.”

“Come on, Chels.” She looked at me for a while. Then she sighed. “Alright. Fine. Guess you would've found out eventually anyway.” I looked at her, waiting for what she was about to say.

“I'm pregnant,” she said. My eyes widened.

“Wait. Really?” I said, surprised. She nodded.

“Who's the father?” I asked.

“My fiance,” she said.

“You have a fiance?”

“I thought I told you?”

“You never told me.”

She sighed. “Go on,” she said. “Give me the same crap your dad and stepmom do. Tell me how ‘irresponsible’ a person I am and how my life's gonna go downhill or some crap.” I was silent.

“I… I wasn't gonna say any of that,” I said. She looked at me.

“Wait what?”

“I mean, I'm not gonna lie, Chels, I am kinda surprised that you of all people would go and get married and pregnant that early in life, and I do think that's a really dumb move, but I'm not gonna judge you for it. I know you. You're the kind of person to look life in the eye and take it head on, even when things are at their worst. So, even though, yeah, starting a family that early is not a smart move in my book, I know that there's no one more qualified to take on that situation than you.”

Chelsea just kinda looked at me. A big smile appeared on her face. “I… Really?” I nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. I returned her smile and nodded again. She looked back at the road. That's when a realization dawned on me.

“Oh god…” I said. “If you're pregnant, then you won't be able to be out in the field with me for a while.”

“Yeah… but I promise, I'll help where I can as I can. I'm not just gonna sit back and let the Templars undo everything we've done.”

I nodded. I was disappointed that I wouldn't have my cousin by my side for a while, but I didn't let it show. “Besides,” Chelsea said, “I know you'll be more than able to take on missions alone. You've become a great Assassin.”

“I learned from the best.” Chelsea smiled at that.

“You'll do great, squirt,” she said. “Once we've taken out most of the Templars’ influence on the streets, they'll start shaking in their shoes when we come for them.” I nodded. We smiled reassuringly at each other. We were quiet for a moment.

“Dweeb,” I said jokingly.

“Squirt,” she responded. We both laughed as we kept driving through the storm that was pounding on the city.