The Right Side

Path to Church

Moving to the native, the Templars see Connor standing over what seems to be tracks. There are few broken crates on the ground, miscellaneous items in bushes.

"There were rations inside the crates. Medical supplies and clothing as well. The snow has messed with the tracks, but enough has remained so we can follow." He points to the left, not looking to see if they were following before heading off. Haytham glances at Clarke as she follows, seeing air leave her mouth in a large cloud of smoke. 

"Here, take my coat." As he begins to take it off, the girl stops him. 

"I'm moving around enough, I've just got goosebumps. You need it more than I do. It'll restrict my movements as well, and I need to be able to get to Church."

"You're planning on taking him out?"

"With all my love, Haytham, you have agreed that you are aging. Allow me to take this one, save your strength if Connor decides he doesn't want to be on our side anymore."

"Right... I almost forgot. We'll just have to get this over with as soon as possible."

Clarke nods, slowing her walk as they near a man by a carriage on the side of the road. The man seemed frustrated, throwing his hands in the air. When he saw the three coming near him, he froze.

"Are you Ben Church's man?" Connor asked, his response being the man attempting to run off. And by attempt, he didn't get far. Clarke stuck her foot out to trip him, before pressing her knee to his back and pinning him to the ground. She grabbed one of his arms, bending it so he wouldn't move.

"Well played," Haytham chuckled, moving to kneel by the man.

"It was not wise to run," Connor then said. "Where is Benjamin Church?"

"I don't know! He was riding for a camp just north of here. It's where we normally unload the cargo. Maybe you'll find him th-" He couldn't finish, the Grand Master having taken out his pistol and firing it at his temple. He then takes out a handkerchief, wiping a few specks of blood from Clarke's face.

"You did not have to kill him!" The native yelled angrily.

"Are you alight my dear?" When he gets a nod, he stands. "Let's not waste time with this pointless banter. Go catch up with the rest of Church's men. Infiltrate that camp of theirs and see what you can discover."

"And what about you two?"

"Never you mind. Just do as you've been told." With the hint of a glare in his eyes, his son walks off.

"What are we going to do?" Clarke asks her lover, standing at his side.

"We'll be doing the same, just decided we could use some time away from him. Perhaps just the two of us?"

With a smile, she nods. "I'd like that. Where to?"

"North," he points, his other hand gently taking ahold of hers. "Shall we?"

The walk, in short, was rather quiet. They took their time getting to the camp, knowing they'd make it in time. The two stayed close to each other, enjoying their presence and not needing to fight anyone at the time being. To Clarke, the walk wasn't long enough. She could've been like that all day and she's love it. But sadly, the camp came into view.

Haytham motioned for Clarke to get down, the two of them hiding behind snowy bushes. They were thick and didn't move due to the snow, perfect for hiding behind. Though, it's work better if they were wearing white. Sadly, the universe seemed to agree.

Within minutes of hiding, the two were grabbed by soldiers. Two held onto Haytham while one stayed with the blonde. Of course, she didn't hesitate to head-but him the moment she was touched. That only resulted in her hair being pulled, a pistol pressed to her chin.

"Stop!" The Grand Master said quickly, eyes on Clarke. "Don't fight them, love. They won't hesitate to kill you."

"We won't kill 'er just yet," one of the men laughed, pulling them from their hiding spot and pushing them towards the camp.

"Look wha' we found!" The man holding Clarke said. "They were hidin' round the camp all suspicious like. Must be Yank spies!"

Who seems to be their boss walked forward, shaking his head. "No, they're something else. Something special. Isn't that right, Haytham? Brought your lady friend too, hmm? Heard she was meant to hang at the Gallows. Clarke, innit? Church told me all about you two."

"Then you should know better than this," the Grand Master responds. The boss frowns, his hand balling into a fist before punching him as hard as he could.

"Haytham!" The girl struggled against her captive, her hair being pulled back harder.

"You aren't in any position to be makin' threats, are ya?"

"Not yet."

"That so? Why don't we take ya girl here inside? You get to stay out 'ere with my boys. Ya might not care 'bout yourself, but he told me 'bout 'er." He motioned to the small shed, the man holding Clarke starting to drag her away as the boss smirked.

"Haytham!" She yelled again, her body turning to knee the man in the crotch. His gun fired, skimming across her shoulder as she reached for her weapon. The boss moved to her, a few other men coming to help him as they easily lifted her up to bring her inside.

"Don't touch her!" Haytham yelled, going to stand but was hit once more. Once in the face, once in the gut, and a kick to the side. His eyes moved to the bushes, seeing Connor starting to creep out. The native seemed to understand, turning and heading for the shed first. The blonde was still yelling insults at the men, pausing to beg them not to touch Haytham. 

When Connor entered, the men behind him were already yelling to warn the others. Luckily, they didn't get far with Clarke. They had her pinned to the wall, the boss's leg between hers as he attempted to get handsy with her. Connor pulled out his pistol, something he rarely used and put a bullet in the back of the mans head. He then turned, shooting one of the men away from Haytham. Grabbing his tomahawk, he threw it at one of the men holding Clarke, ripping it out of his skull to deliver the same death to the last guard in the shed. Behind him, he could hear his father dealing with the one he was left with. 

The native turned his attention to Clarke, seeing her on the ground with her hands in her hair and her knees to her chest. She was breathing heavily, her hands visibly shaking. Had Connor not been there, things would have gotten much worse.

"Clarke...?" He kneels in front of her, unsure of what to do. Her face and upper half were blotched with blood from his kills, reaching forward to wipe some away. She shied away from him touch, a hurt look crossing his face. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. "I want to help."

Footsteps are heard, and soon Connor is pushed out of the way for Haytham. While his son could barely touch the girl, the Grand Master was able to lift her up in his arms. The man drapes his coat over her, sheltering her from the cold.

"Meet me in New York," is all he says, holding the blonde close. He shouldn't have brought her along. The men that work for Church are worse that wha Hickey would do for money.

But there was no going back now, a door had just been opened. And whoever is on the other side, Haytham will not hesitate to kill.