ASSASSIN'S CREED ONE-SHOTS!

#8

DFK: I wrote this in half an hour. Why? Because I challenged myself to fit this into one page, meaning it is pretty short, even for one of these. Idk why I decided to challenge myself in this way, but I did. Trust me, everything after the line fits into one word page. My font size was 12. According to my mum, she liked it despite not understanding anything except that the Templars were the bad guys. Then this conversation happened.

Mum: "Wait, aren't the Templars the bad guys?"

Me *praying for patience*: "Well done, you have figured out the entire point of AC:3."

This was a legitimate thing I said btw. 

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Connor was acutely aware of the soft vibrations on the roof tiles behind him. No one could sneak up on him with as much skill as that, save for one man.

"Father." Connor said stiffly.

Haytham Kenway strolled into Connor's view, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that he was three stories above the streets of Boston. The golden trim on Haytham's navy blue tri-corn hat glinted in the afternoon sun.

"Hello Connor. Let me guess, Achilles has given you a target."

Connor grumble under his breath and Haytham gave a satisfied smirk.

"I thought as much. Who is it?"

Connor hesitated. He probably shouldn't be telling the Templar Grandmaster who he was here to kill, and if Achilles were here, he'd be beating Connor with his cane with remarkable strength. Then again, Achilles wasn't here.

Connor moved closer to the edge of the rooftop and pointed to a man in the crowd who moved with unnatural grace. Haytham took a step forward to see Connor's target and suddenly fell silent. Connor didn't look at him, but he was aware that something was bothering the Templar.

"What is it, Father?"

That word still felt unnatural to use with this man, but whenever Connor used it Haytham would typically be in a better mood, and therefore less likely to berate him about how his cause was idiotic. For once, this didn't work.

"I was going to offer to help you kill your target, but I can't help you. Not against that man."

Connor turned to Haytham with a fair amount of surprise plastered on it. Why would his father of all people fear a random man? Then, as if he'd read Connor's mind, Haytham answered.

"I'm not scared of him. I just can't help you with that mission."

"That sounds like dodging the question." Connor retorted.

"You didn't ask a question."

Connor internally cursed at Haytham's perfect logic. He looked back up at Haytham to see that his mouth was straight, but his slate grey eyes twinkled with amusement. Connor was about to argue when Haytham beat him to it.

"I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

Once again, before Connor could protest, Haytham tilted his tri-corn hat in acknowledgment, before racing away through the heart of Boston, invisible to the ordinary civilians.