Connor: Family and Freedom 3“Enough,” Connor said striding into the hold of the ship where Church had holed up. “We came here for a reason.”More Like This
“Different reasons it seems,” his father growled, his bloodied fist hitting the supine man once more. Haytham got up, his anger clear on his face. Church’s face was a disaster: his lips had been split open by the force of Haytham’s blows, his betrayal having stung the Grand Master on a personal level. And like a cobra Haytham had struck back fast and furiously, unleashing his pent up anger at his misfortunes on the man who had betrayed him.
Connor knelt by the gasping man and laid one hand on his chest. He felt contempt for the traitor. Church had betrayed his ideals, albeit they were Templar ideals. But even worse than being a traitor, Church was a cowardly thief who’d stolen supplies that belonged to those who fought for freedom and justice, who paid with their lives so that their children might one day live free of tyr
Connor: Family and Freedom 2It was an hour later that he came back wearing a black uniform that looked very much like the ones that the five men in front of the compound wore. The sky was just barely beginning to pale to the east, the stars gradually disappearing. The moon still shone with a brilliant light. A soft breeze came in from the ocean. The streets were deserted now. It was the quiet time before life asserted itself once more.More Like This
Haytham critically examined Connor’s outfit and made a few minute adjustments.
“That should do,” he approved. “Follow me.”
Together they approached the gated compound walking as if they belonged there on business. Showing fear or nerves would get them nowhere but full of bullets. The five men had the look of hard bitten veterans, thugs really, who obeyed the orders of any man who paid them, and paid well. One of them held up a hand to stop them.
“Hold strangers,” he said, eyes studying the two, full of suspicion. “You tread on private
Connor: Family and FreedomConnor sighed in exasperation. The man was not there. The bench by the waterfront where his father’s contact had said Haytham would be was empty. He turned around searching the moonlit docks and empty stalls: nothing and no one. Just a few nighttime passersby hurrying about on this fresh April night but that was all. No sign of his father, however. The man was good at hiding his presence, Connor reluctantly concluded. A cruel arrogant man he might be but Haytham Kenway was no fool. He could obviously read that his son did not trust him in the least. Not that Connor had tried to hide his dislike for this sire of his who simply blithely seemed to assume that the Assassin would obediently fall in line with his wishes. “You surely have a thing coming, father,” he muttered to himself just about ready to leave. He would continue the search on his own if he had to. He’d done it before.More Like This
“Good evening, Connor,” said his father quietly approaching from behind.