Chased

Searching for Her (New)

     Haytham listened to the little voice in the back of his head one time.

     Then everything hit the fan.

     Everything Haytham knew the informant would tell them was gone with that assassin, yet he still let her go. What in God's name was he thinking? If only he had pulled the trigger, their arrangements would have been saved. That damn assassin kept getting in their way, and everyone knew about her. Given, they didn't know she was an assassin. Assumptions had been made, but Haytham kept his lips sealed. For some reason, the voice in his head came back to nag him every time he tried to speak up about her. She's the only assassin left, boys. Keep your guard up, and if you see her, shoot. It wasn't very hard. All he had to do was say it, then it would be out there. Everyone would know about the assassin on their backs.

     If she had managed to evade them for this long, then simply telling them wouldn't do. This girl, Victoria, she had more than just training, she had practice. Redcoats or other militia soldiers simply wouldn't do for her level of skill and stealth. Victoria had to get her practice from someone else. Other assassins maybe.

     Or maybe she was the one responsible for killing the newbies.

     Haytham gritted his teeth. Of course she would, he told himself. Killing the new recruits who had just finished training was a great way to practice her skills and train herself to defend against his own. As young as she was, this girl might have been training her entire life.

     As he slurped his beer with his fellow Tenplars, Haytham couldn't help but think back to when he saw her next. It wasn't very long after the last meet, nearly a month or so after in Boston. She was out on a mission, and that's when he saw one of his old informants, dead by her blade. Victoria was persistent, easily slashing through anyone who tried to stop her. No one was ready for her.

     Not even him.

****

     Her hand shoved him out of the way.

     Haytham barely managed to catch a glimpse of her black and red coat before she disappeared into the crowd. The rush was highly unusual, which made him think she had something to do with it. He decided to trod in the direction she rushed in, making it so his movements weren't too erratic. He didn't need the attention. The assassin moved slow, throwing her gaze forwards and backwards, as if on search for something in particular. Her eyes were consistently blocked by her hood, as was the rest of her face. Her coat was distinct, and he tried to remember if he had ever seen another assassin wear such a coat. If he knew, he'd be able to tell who trained her. Each assassin was unique in their abilities, Victoria was no different, but they tended to reflect the fighting style of the trainer.

     Haytham couldn't remember that coat. He assumed it was tailored for her.

     She stopped. Haytham did too. A mass of people brushed by them, continuing on with their day. Something caught the assassin's gaze, and she took off running. He debated whether or not he should interfere. He decided against it, and rushed after her instead. Who would he be to interrupt a woman's chores?

     Victoria rushed after another person, who was also running, presumably to get away from her. Haytham followed as close as he could, swerving and swaying through the crowd to reach the assassin. She shoved many people out of her way, swiftly ducking in between other pools of people to avoid those who didn't appreciate her shoving them around. Her movement, so swift, and attention focused. There wasn't a step she took that wasn't thought out, that wasn't planned. Even who she shoved seemed calculated, as to avoid the confrontation from angry Bostoners.