The Conviction

Chapter 2 - Assassins

Grinning at the feel of adrenaline that was undoubtedly running through her veins, the blue Assassin walked over to where the chocolate brunette lied on the ground.

She rolled her eyes, and waved her friend's half-hearted comments away. "Whatever, Sammy. You had fun, just admit it." She said, slowly standing up and grinning.

She scoffed, and playfully punched her in the arm. "Ashley, you need to grow up." Samantha retorted, crossing her arms.

Ashley laughed. "You need to more than me, Sam." She retorted. "Even Scott says so."

Looking at Ashley with a skeptical gaze, she crossed her robed arms and her blue eyes glimmered playfully as she watched her friend's movements. "Since when do you listen to what Scott says?" She asked, remembering his comment on her ocean blue robes as soon as she had gotten them.

Snickering, she shrugged, though answered anyways. "Since he said that you were less mature than me." Ash admitted, grinning as she began to walk deeper into the maze, knowing that Sam would follow.

Samantha did follow, but she didn't seem happy about Ashely's reply. "Yet you're the one who almost got killed by the French Armed Forces." She retorted irritably, watching Ashley fiddle with her array of throwing knives. "I don't see why you have to wear robes just like those of Altaïr, your 'great' ancestor. They make you a target."

She turned around and frowned at Samantha, highly offended. "Then why do you wear dark blue? Last time I checked, not even the river was that color." Ashley was proud of her ancestry, and it was no secret that she was just as talented as Altaïr, if not more so. At 19 years of age, a decade of training under her belt, and three years of apprenticeship under one of the council members themselves, the female Assassin of the 21st century had more than proven herself, and her true career had yet to begin.

Every member of the brotherhood knew the tale of Ashley Dorian. It was common knowledge. "Alright, I get it, you're glad that you're Altaïr's greatest descendant, okay?" She said defensively, earning a smug look from her friend, encouraging her to go on, convinced she had won this particular argument. "But you're just as reckless as he was, and that isn't always something we can afford nowadays!" Samantha continued, her pleading eyes locked with Ashley's own irked ones.

Scowling, the brunette turned her head away, ignoring her friend's obvious worries. "That's rich, coming from the Persian." She snapped, not caring if she offended Sam in the least. "You're just as reckless as your war-crazed emperor, Xerxes!" Ash's voice was cold, and her eyes emotionless, and impossible to read now, and any other human being, Assassin or not, would have run as far as possibly humane from her if they saw her look.

But she couldn't help herself, and Samantha burst into laughter, giggling as if Ashley's cold words had seemed like child's play. In fact, though she was highly offended, she knew that Xerxes, the Persian ruler that had started the Peloponnesian war over a thousand years ago, before Altaïr had even been born, and that Ashley was obviously misinformed. She was not related to Xerxes, not even closely, and Ashley's usually calculating and witty brain had said quite possibly the dumbest thing in the history of mankind.

"What?" Ashley asked, not understanding what could possibly be so amusing. "I don't get it..." Sam said nothing, however, and went into a light jog through the maze, obviously knowing her way around. "Sam!" She said nothing in reply, and only her shining, almost black locks of slightly curled hair were visible before she vanished completely. "Hey, wait, you're going to get lost without me!"

Ignoring the sinking feeling that something was not quite right, she pulled her hood over her head once more, and hurried after Samantha, hoping that she wouldn't be forced to find her in the extravagant maze around them, for it never stayed the same for very long.

It was to her advantage that Sam hadn't strayed far, and was in the middle of a supposedly confusing intersection, but Ashley saw right past it, and concentrated on the path directly behind her friend. "This way," she said, jogging through the maze, heading to the hidden entrance to the Assassin's underground fortress, still within the catacombs of Paris themselves, though it was no longer beneath the abandoned cathedral.

"How could you possibly remember how to navigate this place? Not even MY memory is that good!" Sam exclaimed, eyes narrowed as she watched her friend's movements. You're not even using your vision, Ash."

The brunette rolled her eyes, grinning mischievously. "I don't need it to do this. And you shouldn't either." She cocked her hooded head to the side, smiling broadly. "One day, I'll teach you how to be smart. And you will realize exactly how amazing I am."

"Shut up!" She retorted, yanking her friend's hood off abruptly, but she screeched when Ashley whirled around and gripped her neck, feeling a bone crushing under her unreal strength. Sam gasped, choking as she struggled to breathe, in shock. With a sickening snapping noise, Ashley dropped her friend, and she coughed violently, struggling to breathe, rubbing her pained neck. "What the absolute hell, Ash?"

"I was helping." She retorted, crossing her arms and smiling down at her. "You popped your neck."

Sam scoffed, staring at her disbelievingly. "Well you could've told me that!" She stood, and scowled. "Psychopath."

Surprising the both of them, a cheery masculine figure's laughter echoed in their ears, and both of them rolled their eyes, his British accent more than obvious. "Hello Scott." Ash said irritably, stretching lazily as he continued his cheery tone of voice.

"Hey, girls!" He exclaimed sarcastically. "How are you doing? Staying out of trouble, mates?" He may have seemed friendly, may have acted like it, and he may have even tried to be friendly, but it was their nature to respond in such a manner.

"-Asshole."

"-Canaglia."

They both laughed at his appalled face, his mother's Italian swearing enough to ensure his punishment was as extensive as it was. They continued past him, and through the maze, snickering under their hoods every time they looked back at his irked expression.

Ashely suddenly stopped, though Sam was oblivious to that much. "OOMPH!" She cried out, smacking into her stoic, unmoving friend, and falling backward into the grass and mud. "Hey!" She protested, eyes wide, though she wore a playful smile. "Watch it, you jerk."

Scott, who had rid himself of his snarky attitude, at least for the moment, reached down and clasped her wrist, pulling her to her feet and shaking his head. "That jerk saved your life, Sammy." He reminded her, delighting in her smile as she rolled her eyes, punching his arm playfully.

A loud, disturbing screech of metal wrecked their ears and the air around them, and the two hooded figures tensed, reaching for the hilts of their swords, though they felt as if their ears would bleed. When it finally stopped, an entrance, rusted metal and all was exposed, the endless abyss of darkness destroying and light cast within, and only the sigil of their brotherhood was visible.

"Come, Brother; Sister." Ashely said, relatively calm despite her outlying actions. "Let us go and meet with the council, Assassins."