AC Syndicate: Isolated Files [OS]

Oppression [Alternative]

(Chapter image by myself) // In this short story, I wanted to make our dear Victoria a middle-class version of an Assassin, or at least her Assassin debut.

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Somewhere in the Strand, a young blond man was visiting one of Crawford Starrick's old warehouses. His mission was to oversee the transfer of weapons and materials destined for the Templars on the continent. The steel-blue-eyed heir grew tired of waiting and sighed for the umpteenth time. The men were taking far too long. He curtly gave directions to the Blighters who were getting their hands dirty for him, to avoid any incidents that might upset the sender and the recipients.

On the metal frames, just under the roof of the warehouse, a silhouette, suggesting that it was a woman, stood there balanced, her head covered with a hood. It was an Assassin who had followed Thomas Cameron. She had followed his actions very closely. From her perch, she waited for the right moment to swoop down on him and plunge her blade into his throat. She preferred to eliminate her target discreetly to avoid a fight.

The Templar Grandmaster's son, Taylor Cameron, had a hunch. His instincts told him he was not alone here. It forced him to look around, suspecting Assassin's presence in the vicinity.

"We're done, sir. We're ready to leave."

"Then move instead of standing there," he ordered harshly.

The Blighter refrained from answering his superior and complied. The carriage left the warehouse as Thomas tucked a strange book into his coat pocket. He had gotten it in exchange for the crates to be delivered. The Assassin let the cargo go, having briefed the Rooks to deal with it further on. She had to focus on the young Templar. The latter pulled out a dagger and looked around.

"I know you're here, Assassin. There's no need to hide. Show yourself."

A shadow fell behind him, landing perfectly, one knee to the ground. As the hooded woman rose to her feet, the blonde turned to her. His superior air expressed his disdain.

"You're not really that impressive, Victoria Reid."

The brunette removed her hood, revealing large, round, chocolate-coloured eyes. Her thick, well-defined lips were no longer hidden by the shadow of her hood.

"Your arrogance is pathetic, Thomas," she retorted. "This is not the way to get your father's respect. I really feel sorry for you."

"Leave him out of this," he growled.

"Or what? You'll kill me?"

She clicked the mechanism of her hidden blade. The clinking of the metal of the gauntlet's weapon caught the Templar's attention. Then he looked at her, a smirk on his face.

"I'll ask you the same thing."

Victoria swallowed hard. The idea of killing yet another man displeased her greatly. She still felt nauseous just thinking about taking the life of a human being. And when her blade had killed, her heart always heaved, sometimes even vomiting bile shortly after the killing. But she believed Jacob when he told her that she would eventually get used to it. After all, she was still a beginner.

"If that is necessary, yes..."

Thomas had heard the brunette's somewhat shaky voice and slowly approached her. A wicked smile appeared on his face, and his steel-blue gaze pierced his enemy's soul. He dropped his dagger to the ground. The brunette was only able to take one step back.

"Give it up, Reid. You still have feelings for me."

Next to her, he began to reach out his hand so he could place it on Victoria's cheek. The brunette pulled her head back slightly and turned it away.

"And you know perfectly well that this is ridiculous."

His fingers slid over the Assassin's lower jaw and slowly he forced her to turn her face towards him. Victoria's eyes locked onto Thomas' steely blue ones. She didn't know if her heart had been pinched or if it had missed a beat. The tenets of the Creed, her budding feelings for Jacob, and what was left of them for the Templar, gripped the young woman. A flash made her realise something. She violently pulled his hand away from her, murdering him with her eyes and reminding him:

"You chose your father's esteem over me! You let yourself be manipulated by him to make him proud of you!"

"My family has been dragged through the mud for too long between my brother's scandals, my sister's decadence! Do you really think I like doing all this to make us look good again!"

"At what price, Thomas?" she said, "Our whole childhood, our teenage years, our entire lives, our feelings! It was nothing in your eyes? Nothing compared to the esteem of your father, to the honour of your family?"

The brunette's heart ached at the words she had just said. The estrangement caused by the current Templar Grandmaster had affected her more than it seemed. It motivated her to retract her blade with a brief shake of her arm.

"You dare to speak to me of honour? You never had any, Victoria! You were a disgrace to your family, until you disappeared with Jacob Frye and became an Assassin! Your mother died of grief and your father is a shadow of his former self, Elias is straining to get him back on track! And as for James, you're dead!"

"And in your eyes?" she asked.

The question unnerved the blond, who relaxed and the veins in his forehead disappeared. He lowered his head, his few blonde locks falling over his forehead. He didn't know if he should be scandalised by the question, seeming to mock his own family anyway, or if he should flatter himself that he was still important to Victoria despite their factions and disagreements. Thomas wanted to answer truthfully, but pride spoke for him:

"A ghost..."

A slap sounded in the warehouse. The brunette's hand had struck the burgher's cheek. The latter's head flew to the side. He put his hand on the impact he still felt on his cheekbone. He straightened up and looked at her. His face seemed stoic against Victoria's more angry one, but the steel-blue eyes betrayed her astonishment. The brunette realised what she'd just done and relaxed slightly, but her breathing, visible to the eye with the movement of her shoulders and chest, still showed she was angry.

"A bit too real for a ghost, isn't it?" she added hoarsely.

He smirked, then massaged his jaw, looking at Victoria.

"Not enough for my taste," he dared to retort.

The brunette automatically raised her hand to strike again. But he had the reflex to block her wrist. Surprised, she tried to counter her opponent who still resisted him. He violently released the Assassin's wrists. He barely gave her time to react to grab her arm and pull her towards him, forcing her to press herself against him. He put an arm behind her back, trapping hers in the process. He blocked the wrist of the free hand of the brunette who was going to hit his face in the back. The hand stuck in the air by his opponent, she tried to free herself. Teeth clenched, she ordered him to let her go. But the Templar's face broke into a smirk, and a spark of mischief flashed across his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

She looked up at him, surprised by the question. What mistake had she made? Looking at Thomas' face, however close to her own. Victoria's resentment began to fade. The Templar could feel the Assassin's rapid breathing against him. He had the impression that it was not breathlessness, nor was it anger. He thought he felt resistance through his somewhat irregular breathing rhythm.

He felt lips resting passionately on his, a brief breath on his face. Victoria had given in to temptation. The embers of her ashes-like feelings for Thomas were not quite extinguished. Returning the gentleness to her, he loosened his grip on Victoria's wrist and placed his hand on her lower jaw. The brunette contented herself with putting hers in the hollow of Thomas's shoulder, while she placed the other — whose arm was trapped by that of her opponent — on his ribs. Then a truce began between the Assassin and the Templar for a few moments, the time of a kiss.