The Right Side

Prison Break

The next day, Clark was startled when she heard a fight break out in the common room where all the prisoners went down once a day. She heard men yelling, so she quickly ran to see what had caused the commotion. When he eyes landed on Connor, she took in a sharp breath.

The native was taking on three men at once, easily dodging their attacks and using his large form and muscles as best he could. He was a huge man, and Clarke would never go against him in a fight unless she had to. The damage he could do was incredible. At the same time, his strength was also his weakness. And as the blonde feared, the other prisoners soon realized that.

They began targeting his back, knowing it was harder for him to turn around and attack. They were beginning to gang up on him, and a few guards seemed like they enjoyed the show. It's not every day that someone picks a fight.

Seeing that Connor now had a bloody nose, Clarke took in a breath. "Hey!" She yelled, heading down the wooden stairs and towards the ring of men. A few of the guards swore under their breath, looking at each other. "Cmon, get off him!"

The blonde managed to elbow a few guys out of the way, though was soon noticed and the men began calling for her.

"Aww, cmon!" One of the men laughed. "Were just having a bit of fun! Why don't you come back to my cell, it's cozy."

"I'd rather not," she snapped, feeling her voice shake. "Connor, are you alright?" She asked, reaching for the bottom of her uniform and wiping the blood from his nose.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, eyes widening. "This is not a safe place for you!"

"I'm here on business, though I'm sure you've put that together."

"Ey, whys the half breed got a wench 'ere but we don't?" A men yelled, Clarke soon realizing the men were closing in on them once more. "That ain't fair now, is it?"

"Clarke, stay behind me," Connor put a hand in front of her, pulling her to his back.

"Clarke?" Comes a sickening voice, making the girls legs turn to lead. A man with dark hair that reaches his shoulders comes into view, green eyes flaring with insanity. "You've grown up, poppet."

All she can think to do is scream. And she screams loud enough for anyone to hear. When her voice reaches the ears of Charles, there's not a second before men are being pushed back by the guards. Two of them apprehend Connor, pulling him and everyone back to their cells. Luckily, the Templar is at Clarke's side within minutes.

"What's wrong? Why are you down here? What happened? Was it the Assassin?"

She shakes her head, her hands balled into fists so hard that her knuckles turn white. Charles recognizes this behavior. The only other time was when William died. There was that same broken look in her eyes.

"Come here, love," he gently put an arm around her. "You really shouldn't be down here, it's dangerous. You can leave and head for the mansion, alright? I'll send you an escort."

"No," she shakes her head, swallowing hard as they head back for their rooms. "I need to stay. We need to discuss Washington and Connor and I need to talk."

"Well stay safe, alright? And do keep quiet, we wouldn't want to be charged would we?"

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Clarke, Thomas and Charles watch as Connor sneaks into what he thinks is Thomas's room. He's snuck out. There's no telling how he did it or who helped him, but that didn't matter. What mattered is getting to him.

"Not who you was expectin', am I right?" Thomas asks as the three move to stand in front of the door. Connor turns to them, stepping away from the dead guard that had posed as Thomas.

"And what have we here?" Charles let his gun hang in his hand. "I thought we finished of your kind."  His kind referring to the Assassins.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" The native frowns. "To rid the world of all who do not share your views."

His only made the Templar chuckled. "Guilty as charged! You're meddling in the revolution has cause us no small measure of grief. It cannot continue. Our work is too important. But what would you know, beyond all the lies Achilles feeds you and the tales you tell yourself."

"I know that the people wish to be free - and men like Washington fight to make it so."

"Please," Clarke steps up, shocking all three men. "The man is weak! He stumbles and stammers through each engagement, making it up as he goes along. His pedigree is pathetic - his military record even more so. I could go on and on about all the reasons why he's unfit, but we'd be here for days."

"Why have you turned against me? Why have you turned against Achilles and all the people-"

"That man is not who you think he is!" Clarke raised her voice, stepped forward. "I know what Washington has done! To me! To you! He murders innocents and blames his enemies! Achilles is a liar who likes to think he's untouchable!"

"He is not a liar!"

"I'm sorry but we're you there the night my brother was murdered? No! You weren't! And according to Shay - who was an Assassin at the time - Washington killed everyone! Everyone except me and he left me like this! He's the reason I can't sleep at night! He's the reason why I can't remember the last think I said to Carver! If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have killed my best friend!"

The cell goes silent, Charles patting Clarke's back with a proud smile.

"He must be dealt with," he says. "And so do you. I will abide no more flies in the ointment."

"'Ere is 'ow it's gonna work," Thomas moves closer to Connor. "First we bind ya and bring ya to your cell. Then tomorrow, you go before court, accused of plottin' to kill good 'ol Georgie. Maybe we could pin the murder of the Warden on you as well. You did kill 'im after all. And who wouldn't take the word of Miss. Clarke over here? You know from experience, don't ya? She's a good girl. And once that's all squared away, well then..." Thomas makes a motion of being hung, Clarke flinching to herself at the thought.

Connor scowls, his eyes flicking to the girl and Charles before moving to attack him. He hits down Charles' arm, a fist flying for the Templar. Though he is easily caught off guard, being pinned to the wall with a gun to his head.

"Charles!" Clarke stepped forward, giving the man a warning glare.

His eyes remain on Connor, letting out a breath. "All those years ago, that boy in the forest was you."

"I said I would find you."

"And so you have. But not quite as you expected, am I right? You've found yourself a few others along your way. And to think, this all could've been avoided if you would've just done as I asked. But what's done is done." Before anyone was able to continue the conversation, Charles gave a blow to the natives head, knocking him out cold.