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Description
No town is welcoming for pirates. It's a known fact. Ironically enough, though, port cities seem to harbor a special hate in their hearts for our kind. It's why you can't go 2 minutes without being stopped by street police in a place like Boston, why you're always looking over your shoulder to see if someone's following you. It's exhausting at first, but it becomes a part of the life after a while. The difficult part is when you're in a crowded public place, such as a town square or a bar. The constant flow of people entering & leaving makes it hard to tell who's not out to get you...And who is.

Luckily, today my enemy is easily identifiable-a regiment of fresh British troops arriving from Europe to head to the front. Rather unluckily, I seem to have stumbled upon one of their favorite pubs.

"You seem to be lost, friend!" a slurred, bleary voice calls to me from across the room. I sigh & hunch lower over my tankard, trying to ignore the comment. Why do I have to be the only white jacket in a sea of red? "You deaf or something?!" a visibly intoxicated soldier shouts as he staggers towards me, pushed on by his cheering comrades several tables away. "You must be lost!" I scoff & brush him off, trying to give neither a positive nor negative reaction to his harrassment. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" the man roars, grabbing a fistful of my hair & pulling my face in close to his. "Pirates aren't welcome here! Now get lost before I haul your sorry ass to the local police station & let them hang you!"

The man releases me & steps back, waving at the door expectantly. I scowl & turn back to my drink. The soldier lets out a frustrated grunt, then walks up & takes a place beside me at the bar. I keep my gaze calm & focused forward, but notice clenched fists & a look of pure fury through my peripheral gaze. Subtly, the soldier raises his fist to the counter & leaves it there. He's getting ready to strike. I breathe deeply & down the rest of my beer. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to kill anyone today.

Without warning, the soldier jumps to his feet & throws a punch, but a second man in white clothing similar to mine moves faster & catches his fist an inch from my face.
"He's not going anywhere." the man whispers in a husky, serious tone. I study him closely. He can't be any older than 23. Slightly dark skin tone suggests Native American heritage, as well as his accent. He's armed to the teeth-a bow & arrow are slung across his shoulders, accompanied by a pair of pistols in twin holsters & an enormous, razor-sharp sword in a scabbard. "So you're going to interfere, are you?!" the soldier growls, turning & lunging at the other man.

There's no thought required. My body simply reacts, grabbing my metal tankard off the table & whipping it across the soldier's temple. He grunts & staggers, trying to cling to conciousness, but loses the battle & slumps to the ground. All around us, the raucous laughter of the other soldiers has stopped & all eyes are focused on their fallen comrade. The entire bar hangs in suspenseful silence for several seemingly endless seconds..."Kill them!" one voice shouts. I leap to my feet & get back to back with the other man, drawing my pistols from their holsters. "What a fine dilemma you've gotten us into." the man growls. "Nothing I haven't escaped from before." I reply with a sly grin. "Hindsight's 20-20."

The horde of soldiers push forward, & without hesitating I fire, putting 2 bullets in one man's arm & another's skull. I flip the pistols so that the barrels now rest in my hands & begin to fight my way through the crowd, clubbing soldiers left & right. "Come on!" I call to the other man. He nods & sprints after me, but several soldiers reach out & grab his arms, stopping his forward movement. The man struggles for a moment, then smiles as 2 small blades shoot out of the gauntlets on his wrists & find homes in the necks of his captors. With a sad, wet gurgle, the soldiers crumple to the ground, & the man just barely manages to dive through the collapsing gap from my relentless clubbing onto the other side.

"That got us out of the danger zone," he mutters, "But what do we do now?" "Well, let's see here...We can stay here & fight, get ourselves killed," I reply sarcastically. "Or we can make a break for the front door & get away. Your choice." The man pauses for a moment, then smiles & says, "You sure are a reckless son of a bitch for an Assassin." "Part of the life." I reply, returning his grin. "I'm Edward, by the way." "Connor." the man says softly. I draw my sword & wave it menacingly at the crowd of soldiers as they attempt to advance. "So, Edward," Connor asks, "Shall we make our escape before our drunken friends here decide to make a move?" "It would be my honor." I respond with a grin.