Everything in Between

The Creed of Our Past

This snippet expands a bit on The Creed of Our Past, though it was never finished. It picks up after Ichigo was initiated into the Assassin Brotherhood, he is on a mission in London just before World War I begins.

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The streets of London bustled with new life as the sun rose. Carriages and carts rumbled down the streets as they went about their daily business. People strolled the streets as the basked in the morning sun that painted the cobbled sidewalks that were cold from the previous night. New puffs of smog billowed into the air from factories, blackening the clouds, but hardly blackening anyone's mood. At the corners of some streets where peddlers stood with their stalls and carts were criers telling the early morning headlines on the latest paper. All was seemingly well in the ever growing and ever evolving city of London. Yet, in The Strand a young, foreign Assassin had stirred up trouble the previous night before and chaos ensued.

He had hidden out most of the night in local tavern, blending with the common folk; however, the Templars were not quite so quick to give up the trail of an Assassin. Like hounds on the trail of a fox, the Templars smoked the young Assassin from the tavern in the wee hours of the morning sending gunfire down the streets from The Strand all the way to Whitechapel and back again. His heart hammered in his chest as leaped over roof tops, scaling walls, and climbing ever higher as he reached the heart of London: Westminster. There he stood, crouched behind a wall within the residential area of the royal district. While his mission was successful he did not escape unscathed. Amidst the flurry of gunfire in The Strand a Templar had made a lucky shot, though not fatal at first look, it would be if left untreated. The young Assassin contemplated his options as he cursed himself under his breath. The only standing Assassin bureau in London was in Lambeth, the asylum. He make a break for it and swim across the Thames as he so often did with the Seine when he was a boy. He winced as his bullet wound demanded his attention again. Pressing a hand to the burning lesion, the Assassin hobbled further back into the alley as a group of Templars ran by. He pushed his self into the darkest corner of the alley and sat down, closing his eyes to think, only to drift to sleep. When he awoke next it was to the bitter yet soothing scent of warm spices. He winced as he sat up to observe his unfamiliar surroundings. A door nearby opened as a young girl passed through its threshold. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she noticed the young Assassin's consciousness.