Chapter Text
Arno
Franciade was rather quiet that morning. Quiet, but not silent.
“Hey, where are you going with that?” Arno chuckled, but secretly felt rather offended. “Léon?!”
The boy- nearly a young man, Arno thought- held in his hand a small tart. Well, small in comparison to Arno’s hand. In Léon’s, it looked deceptively bigger. Plastered on the boy’s face was a sly grin, teasing Arno. He began wafting the tart around as if shaking it’s very scent into the air.
“Mmm,” Léon teased, “Smell that, Arno? I bet you can, but it’s all mine!” he exclaimed at the last, and dodged backward as his taunts edged Arno forward.
“Hey, I helped you get that,” growled Arno, though really he wasn’t all that annoyed over it. He was just happy to see Léon having a laugh, even if it was at himself.
“Come and get it, then,” Léon taunted. Arno couldn’t help but laugh. It was only when he’d taken up the chase did he realise the boy’s cunning trickery. As Arno darted forward playfully, Léon sidestepped, and that was when the assassin noticed the plank, propped across two sturdy logs. His shin collided with the plank and he went sprawling forward into the dirt. Sawdust from whatever construction had been going on went flying upward. Léon stood back, avoiding the harmless dust-shrapnel entirely, and he had to hold his sides as he pitched forward with laughter.
“Okay,” Arno sighed, finding the situation less humorous now, “It’s not that fu-” The sawdust, in his propelling of it into the air, now collided with his face. “Huh... Hu-scheugh!”
Léon, who’d calmed down just enough to witness this, was thrown into an even bigger fit of laughter, having to sit down just so he wouldn’t fall over from laughing. Arno sighed and clambered to his feet. His nose itched like he was going to sneeze again.
Léon took one look at him and said, “You look like you’re going to-”
“Ha-cheugh!”
“-sneeze again,” Léon finished with a chuckle.
Arno composed himself, wiping his sleeve at his running nose. Léon grimaced.
“Eugh!” the boy cringed, “At least use a tissue.”
“What?” Arno said humorously, “This is all on you, little man.” And he held his ruined sleeve out as if to prove a point.
Léon took a step back, giggling. “I didn’t trip you up. It’s not my fault you can’t handle a little sawdust.”
Arno crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He was faintly aware that he was smiling also. And then Léon, the conniving little traitor, held up the tart and, to Arno’s horror, took a massive bite out of it.
“Hey!” the assassin exclaimed, “You were supposed-”
-----
“-partager avec moi, aussi!”
“Seriously, Shaun? You forgot the translator again?”
Arno looked around, severely confused. He was having a go at Léon for stealing his half of the tart, and then there was a bright flash of light. Although the flash had come and gone so fast he wasn’t even entirely sure of that part. And now, as he looked around, he found himself in a strange-looking room, with strange people staring at him. His first thought of import, though, was to the little man’s safety.
“Léon?”
“Hang on a minute,” said a man with what Arno thought was an English accent. “There, translator’s up.”
“Who are you?” Arno growled, stalking toward the two who had spoken. “Where is Léon? Is he safe?” Briefly it occurred to him that his own voice sounded different, like he had an English accent of his own.
“Whoah! Easy, big guy!” said the woman next to the Englishman. “First thing’s first: my name is Rebecca, and this is Shaun. You don’t know who we are, but I promise you you’re safe here. Léon is exactly where he was, behind the orphanage in Franciade. He’s safe.”
Arno felt his shoulders tensing up for a fight. “Forgive me, but I’m having a hard time believing you. But I want to know: why do I sound like this? If you’re speaking English, why can I understand you?”
This time the man called Shaun spoke up. “All great questions. I mean, truly, mind-boggling stuff-”
“Shaun...”
“Sorry. Look, Dorian, you’re just gonna have to trust us. Especially when I say what I’m about to say: you’re in the future. Specifically, the twenty-first century.”
“What?!” Arno scoffed.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” said Rebecca, “But you have to. We know what you are, Arno. You’re an assassin. We’ve brought you here using special technology, crafted just for this. You’re here because we need your help.”
“How do you know-”
“Because we’re assassins, too. And so are they.” She turned and stretched an arm out, and suddenly he took in the rest of the people who’d been staring at him. Altogether they made seven. Most of them wore robes, all of different kinds, and each looking as if they, too, had come from a different time. One of them in particular- a man dressed in black with a scar running over his right eye- sparked familiarity in him, but he couldn’t quite place it. He figured his squinting stare must have made some of them uncomfortable, because another man stepped forward, hand outstretched. He wore a white robe, detailed with red accents and a silver assassin symbol over his stomach.
“Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Welcome, amico mio.”
Arno coughed. “Arno Dorian... da Paris.” But he would not pass over this man’s politeness when so far he had shown him no hostility. So he took the man’s hand and shook it.
“Don’t worry,” Ezio said, “We’re all in the same boat. They just gave us the- how did they put it?- the ‘run down’, before they realised they forgot about you.”
“Ha!” laughed the man next to Ezio, “Then the idioti went running off to fetch you from... well, wherever they fetched you from.”
Ezio laughed. “This is my uncle Mario.”
“Nice to meet you,” Arno nodded.
“Sorry,” said Rebecca, as she and Shaun joined the conversation. “We didn’t mean to forget you, Arno. We were bringing you guys in based on alphabetical order, and we managed to skip past D somehow.”
“Based on his lack of direct descendants, so did he.”
“Shaun!”
Arno felt his face go red, and behind him he heard stifled chuckles and giggles. “Apparently, some humour transcends time,” he muttered. He just didn’t mutter enough. The laughter grew louder behind him and he wondered how the rest of these guys could laugh when they were in such a situation as this.
“Sorry, lad,” said a blonde man with a Welsh accent. “We’ve been here a little longer than you. No more than fifteen minutes, I’d wager, but the shock’s worn off a little, that’s all.”
Arno let himself relax. He even began to see the humour in it. “That’s alright,” he smiled.
The blonde man shook his hand. “Edward Kenway. This here is my son- or so I’m told- Haytham Kenway, his son Connor,” he said, gesturing to both respectively. Then he pointed to the man that looked dangerously familiar. “This is Shay Cormac, and that’s Altair Ibn-LaʼAhad himself. You’ve already met Ezio and Mario Auditore.”
“da Firenze, right,” Arno muttered.
“I’m sorry,” said the man in black. He had an Irish accent. “Did they call you Dorian?”
“Oui, that’s right. Why?”
“No, eh... No reason. Just wanted to get better acquainted, that’s all.”
“Right,” Arno hummed. For some reason he couldn’t quite place, he didn’t trust this man. For the most part, he'd been hidden behind Haytham the entire time, and so when he stepped out, Arno's eyes landed on the Templar crest on Shay’s chest, and something clicked.
“You’re a Templar?”
That was when Haytham stepped up next to Shay. “Yes, he’s a Templar,” Haytham began, before his eyes drifted over to Edward. “And so am I. But I promise you, we’re just as confused as you are. We don’t even know why we were brought here, by Assassins, no less.”
“You-” Edward began, growing flustered. “No son of mine is a Templar.”
Haytham sighed. “Please, father-”
“Don’t. I’m not your father; I’ve never even had kids.”
“Okayyy,” Rebecca drawled awkwardly. “I’m just gonna break this up before any fighting of the fists breaks out. Edward- Haytham is indeed your son. You’ve all been brought here from different points in your lives. As hard as this all is to take in, you’re gonna have to bear with me. The technology we used to bring you all here is highly advanced- but it’s new, which means the accuracy is a little off. We tried aiming for certain points in your lives, but it didn’t exactly pan out. Point being, Haytham remembers you, but you, naturally, don’t remember him. For you, he literally hasn’t been born yet.”
Edward grumbled, but nodded his understanding. Haytham looked away.
“Look,” Shaun said, picking up where Rebecca left off. “We’ve brought each of you here for a reason. Altair- you’re a legend in the Assassin Brotherhood, and in fact many regard you as the greatest Assassin that ever lived. Ezio and Mario, you two were brought in for your skills and intelligence with a blade. Ezio, you alone go on to become an incredible Mentor. And you three, the Kenways. Edward is here for his pure brute force of strength and will; Haytham, your intelligence is next to none, plus it helps that you of all Templars seem the most willing to come to a truce; and young Connor here is like a bear when it comes to raw strength. Arno, you undoubtedly are the quickest climber here and the most skilled when it comes to parkour and stealth. See? Each of you brings a strength here that, when combined, is essential to our fight.”
“You forgot about me,” came a voice from the back. Shay.
“Oh, right. Well, truth be told, we didn’t mean for you to come along,” Shaun said, and ended up chuckling slightly at the end. “We were still trying to figure out how this piece of crap tech worked when we picked up your data alongside Haytham’s.”
“What? Are you saying I’m not good enough to be here?”
“That’s not what he’s saying at all,” said Rebecca, cutting in quickly. “If anything, it helps to have someone who feels so morally obliged to do the right thing, even if you are a Templar. No offense.”
Shay huffed quietly but said no more.
“I’m sorry,” Connor jumped in, and Arno realised it was the first time he’d spoken this whole time. “Are you actually going to tell us what this ‘fight’ you keep going on about is, or are we just supposed to go along blindly?”
“Yes,” said Altair, also speaking for the first time. “I, too, would like to know why it is you have brought us here. My patience is running thin.”
“How thin?” Shaun jibed. “As thin as, oh, I don’t know, a piece of string? Or perhaps like butter scraped over too much bread-”
“Okay, Shaun, seriously?” said Rebecca, and she sounded as annoyed as Altair. “Quit it. These guys are in a time and place that’s not their own, and as stoic and brave as they may seem, they’re probably scared out of their minds. Try and act professional, huh? Or at least a little more compassionate.”
Shaun sighed. “Yeah, okay. Alright.”
“Good,” she said, and turned to the Assassins and two Templars. “I’m gonna cut to the chase. Abstergo- who, yes, Shay and Haytham, are Templars- are these really bad guys. About six years ago we came into possession of a Piece of Eden- you know, those glowing sphere things? For years the Assassins have been looking into time manipulation and- well, I’ll leave out the sciency parts. You probably wouldn’t understand much of it. But recently, we figured it out. Using the power of the Piece of Eden, we figured out how to focus on a point in time, and then specifically, a person in time. If we could isolate just their DNA and keep the rest locked in place- the rest being the overall time period- we could latch on and bring that person into this time. I know, it all sounds very...”
“Sciency?”
“Yes, thank you, Edward. The point is, this entire time, we’ve had a traitor in our midst. If they know how the technology works, who knows what they could do with it. Whoever this traitor is, they took off with the Piece of Eden (probably headed for Abstergo), and we need to get it back. And... most likely kill someone we once called family- whoever that may be.”
“So you don’t know who this traitor is?” asked Mario.
“No. But that’s why we’ve brought you guys here. Lately, we’ve been lacking experienced members in the field. We knew how the technology worked; we figured if we were ever going to test it out, now would be as good a time as any. With Assassins as experienced as you guys, our chances of getting that tech back is high.”
“Wait,” said Connor, “If they stole this Piece of Eden, then how did you even get us here in the first place?”
“Good question. We needed the Piece of Eden to make the tech, but we figured out how to run it without actually requiring the Piece itself. We were able to bring you here, even without having it here. So, there’s just one question left: are you guys in?”
For a moment nobody said anything. They all looked at each other, looking for something in their faces. When they looked back at her, each of them nodded- Templars and all.
“Good,” said Shaun. “Now that that’s sorted, would you kindly follow us? We haven’t got all day to stand around, and I’m certain you’ll have more questions once we’re out of here. And don’t worry, we will send you back to your own times, we just don’t know yet when specifically that will be. Not to worry, though- you’ll have my wonderful sense of humour to keep your spirits high.”
“Malheureusement,” Arno grumbled.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.”
-----
Connor
Connor had arrived at the same time as everyone else. Who everyone else actually was, that was another story. At the very least, he knew his father. It was like looking at a ghost, and for a while he thought that was exactly what Haytham was.
"Father?"
Haytham turned, and upon seeing him, looked as shocked as Connor felt. "Connor."
“This is some kind of dream,” he mumbled.
“Nope, no dream.” He jumped, spinning around to find a man and a woman staring at them. Both of them looked a little like they were in shock, but also feeling abnormally excited. It was a rather odd look, he surmised.
“Who are you?” said his father from beside him, who must have gone through the same bright light as he did.
“All in good time, Haytham,” said the man, who had an English accent.
“How do you know my name?”
“We know a lot about you,” said the woman. “We know a lot about all of you." And it was then that she proceeded to tell them that they were in the future, and that they would learn more in time. She was just about to tell them that they were Assassins, when from beside her came the distressed voice of Shaun.
"Oh shit. We forgot Dorian. How could we forget Dorian? He was right after the Auditores!"
A man in a white robe (who Connor would later learn was Altair himself) stepped forward. "Who is Dorian?"
Rebecca turned on her heal. "He's... a guy," and then she took off toward the strange glowing device they had come through earlier.
"Oh great," muttered Edward, "He's a guy."
Connor watched as the man dressed in black began to fidget, as though something had made him nervous. Haytham turned to him, put a hand on his shoulder. "Shay?"
"I'm fine, grand- Haytham. Just, don't like being here, is all."
From there, they each proceeded to introduce themselves to each other, and were rather shocked to find that each of them were Assassins. Connor, of course, knew that his father was not one of them. Knew that Haytham was a Templar among Assassins. And yet if Assassins had brought him here, then he figured perhaps he could keep quiet on the subject for the time being. His father at one point had caught his eye, nodded to let him know he appreciated his silence. Truth be told, Connor figured the truth wouldn't be long hidden anyway. The ones who had brought them here surely must have known, too. He fought with the idea that his own regret in killing his father had anything to do with his silence.
"Aha!" cried Shaun, and each of them turned to see the strange transportation device grow bright- that is, brighter than it had been before. And suddenly, like they had done, a man came stumbling out of the light, yelling: "-partager avec moi, aussi!"
And that was when they met their final companion, the Assassin known as Arno Dorian. His robes were a dark blue with what looked like a red scarf poking out from the neck area. He had a thin scar on his face that ran in two parts: it started on the bridge of his nose, stopped, and ran on again under his left eye. From the vocabulary he'd been using when he came through, Connor supposed he was French. That, and the fact that he'd been looking for someone called Léon.
Rebecca and Shaun had gone on to give them all more details as to why they were here, whilst also explaining to Arno what had just happened (this had also included a joke at Arno's expense involving the first initial of his last name). Connor held no dislike for the new guy, nor did he find that particular joke all that funny. But they'd been standing around, wondering what they were doing here, and time was only being wasted. He was growing impatient. And so when the truth had inevitably come out about his father (and this Shay Cormac, to his surprise), and Shaun had tried to bribe them with compliments on their respective skills, he'd stepped forward.
“I’m sorry. Are you actually going to tell us what this ‘fight’ you keep going on about is, or are we just supposed to go along blindly?”
That did the job. Altair's back-up didn't do any harm either, and at long last it felt like they were actually getting somewhere. This Abstergo- Templars, not in the least bit surprising- were after a Piece of Eden in the Assassins' possession. Their traitor would no doubt have to be dealt with, and quickly. Abstergo had never been a thing in his time, but Templars... Now they were an evil as old as time itself. He didn't know what it was, but something about these two- this Shaun and Rebecca. He trusted them. His eagle vision trusted them. Hell, they'd even convinced the two Templars among them. And, he supposed, no matter how much he wished to return to his own time, he had a duty to the Assassins, no matter where in time he was. And so for Connor it was that simple. All the same, he'd keep a keen eye on his father and this Shay Cormac. Templars were still Templars, after all.
-----
Shaun guided them out of the strange room with the strange technology, and down an old, decrepit hallway. And yet no matter how worn down it appeared, it was still new to Connor. Judging by the looks on the others' faces, he guessed they felt the same way. The architecture was something different than what he was used to, and yet it comforted him to know that stone and wood (hell, any solid material he was familiar with) were still around and relied upon in the future.
They were led toward an old, rotting doorframe, out into the light.
Into the modern world.
Even Altair seemed to gush over the bright lights and moving carriages (horseless, no less!). Great lamps stood tall, lining the strange-paved streets. Their glow yellowed the darkening evening. Then his gaze turned to the people. Dressed in strange clothes, but not completely unalike to their two hosts, they walked around with little patience in their stride. Some held small devices up to their ears and spoke into them as if another person were trapped inside (now that seemed unlikely, surely there was a better explanation for this strange technology). A man passed them by- a little too closely for Connor's liking- and upon taking in their appearance, cringed at them. Connor looked down at himself, and then at the others. It seemed they were the ones out of place here.
"Come on," ushered Rebecca, "This is us. We'll explain later."
She took out something from her pocket- a small, black device with three buttons on it- and pressed down. In front of them, a large, white carriage beeped quietly and lights blinked from its back and front ends twice.
"Whoah..." Edward murmured. "Well, she's no Jackdaw, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious to give her a spin."
"We'll be doing the spinning on this one, mate," said Shaun, before pulling a handle on the carriage's side. A great white panel slid open, revealing the interior. There were seats inside, just enough for the Assassins and two Templars. Rebecca came from behind them, gesturing for them to climb in.
"Is this some sort of horseless carriage?" asked Altair in a low voice.
"Sì, I think so," said Mario in awe.
"A horseless carriage?" muttered Shaun. "Sure, why not. Let's go with that. Now if you wouldn't mind, would you all please climb in?"
Connor was curious, but he wasn't afraid of a carriage. Because in the end, that's all it was, whether it was horse-drawn or not. He climbed in first. Behind him, looking rather proud, Haytham followed, sitting next to his son. Then went Shay, followed by Edward, and the two Auditores. Connor watched as Arno peered in, looking a little nervous. Shaun was having none of that, and with a yelp, Arno was pushed in, and the panel was slid closed.
Up front, Rebecca and Shaun climbed in from two separate doors. Shaun sat behind a wheel, which Connor figured had to be the steering mechanism. He took out a pair of strange-looking keys, popped them into what Shaun had briefly told them was the 'ignition' and twisted. Unable to suppress even himself, he startled, as did the others, as the carriage jolted with an odd noise. Rebecca threw her head back to look at them.
"How you guys doing back there?"
"Truth be told, it's a little tight back here," said Arno with a tinge of anxiety, looking around him as if trying to find a way to escape.
"Are you claustrophobic?" Connor asked, feeling sympathy for the man.
Arno gave a sheepish grin. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. It's just- getting lost in the Paris catacombs tends to make one a little... wary, of tight spaces."
"So in other words, you're claustrophobic," Shay jested. Even the Assassins had a laugh at that one, despite the joke having come from a Templar. Arno threw an eyebrow at the Templar, but truthfully, he looked as if he appreciated the laughter. They all did, that is, until the carriage charged forward and they were flown back in the momentum of it. Connor rammed into Haytham, who elbowed Shay, and Mario and Ezio collided heads and Connor thought that looked rather painful. Arno had been squashed by Edward and that didn't help his anxiety at all.
"Oop, sorry," Shaun chimed, "Probably should have warned you. These things- they're called vans, by the way, not carriages- tend to go a good deal faster than anything you're used to. And they don't have seatbelts."
"Okay," said Rebecca, taking over. "We should be where we need to be in about an hour. If anybody feels sick at anytime, just let me know so we can stop in ample time. And make sure Arno doesn't have a panic attack. Okay, now that that's out of the way, any questions?"
"Aye," said Edward, "What are seatbelts?"