It was already dark out by the time that Connor had completed his patrol, the shrill alarm going off on his phone making him instantly turn in the direction of home, relief on his face. He didn’t mind patrolling, in fact he welcomed it most nights, but lately he hadn’t been getting very much sleep and he was looking forward to just collapsing in his bed and passing out until morning. It didn’t help that the patrol had been extremely dull, with nothing happening that was really worth staying awake for. The gaps between the buildings in this part of the city were spaced apart quite a bit, but fortunately he had powerful legs and was able to leap them with ease, falling into a thoughtless rhythm of jumping them, letting his body do the work.
Bang.
Connor only had enough time to register the sharp crack of a gun when searing pain shot through his right thigh, causing his body to crumple mid-leap. He stretched out a hand, fingers catching against the edge of the building but not enough to stop his descent, and he fell all the way down, slamming into the concrete of the alley below. Sharp, stabbing pain shot through his body, joining with the sting in his thigh, and for a moment he just writhed on the ground, gasping at the combined agony of it all. After it had subsided, a quick survey of his limbs luckily revealed that nothing had been broken in the fall, and he struggled to his knees, glancing down at his wounded thigh and seeing the dark stain of blood spreading through the fabric of his pants. A leg injury would complicate his escape, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had to do it.
A screeching noise from the mouth of the alley drew his attention, and to his dismay a large, armored van stopped in front of it, blocking the only way out. Climbing was not an option, and Connor went cold at the realization that this hadn’t just been some random event, but something that had obviously been planned. Which could only mean…
Sure enough, the men that poured out of the van were wearing armored vests and helmets with the Abstergo logo on it, and Connor gritted his teeth and continued to try to stand. He had to get out of here, or they would take him. By some miracle he managed to get onto his one good foot, but no sooner had he done that then they were upon him, a hand colliding with his jaw as another clamped down on his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin at the same time that a foot planted itself on the back of his knee and pushed, hard. He fell back down onto his hands and knees, a low growl erupting from his throat as he plunged his hidden blade into the exposed ankle of one of the men standing before him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the howl of pain that the action drew. It didn’t last long, as a boot collided harshly with his head, sending stars exploding before his eyes, and as his ears were still ringing one of them grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back hard. “Fucking savage,” someone growled in his ear, and then a fist collided with his gut, and another to his ribs, and another to his jaw. Over and over and over, and despite how hard Connor tried to fight back, tried to throw them off, there seemed to be no way of stopping it.
@eagle-of-order
Haytham masked his nerves as he was driven to the sight where they apparently had captured Connor. He had made it clear long ago that he had wanted to be there when either of his family members were taken in, something they didn’t seem to want to uphold as it was Cindy who had told him what was happening rather than any of the members on the capture team. His thoughts raced in his mind, unsure of what he would do once he got there. Letting them take him, even if his monitored how he was treated, was sure to destroy any sort of relationship they had been trying to build up in the passed few months. Not that it mattered, did it? They would all be going home after all this was through anyhow with possibly no recollection that any of it had happened in the first place. On the other hand, he could free him, but the chances of him being successful were close to none. It would practically be suicide… so why was his still considering it?
His thoughts were cut off as the vehicle slowed to a stop behind one Abstergo’s armored trucks and he was stepping out before the vehicle’s engine was even cut. Clasping his hands behind his back and lifting his head in his usual proud fashion, he made sure not to look as urgent as he felt, especially at the noises coming from the alleyway. As he neared their source, some of the armored men stepped back, leaving one standing in front of Connor, his son… He was bloody and battered yet still kicking as much as he could in his predicament. His son…
“Hold!” Haytham ordered, a growl coming into his tone. The man got one more swing in before he stopped, Haytham flinching ever so slightly at the sound of its contact before stepping up as the soldier stepped aside. Now he looked down his nose at the beaten boy in front of him, looking him up and down as if in judgement, but was actually surveying his wounds. “I must say, I am disappointed, Connor. You are the first Assassin to have been captured. I expected more from my own son,” he lectured, sure that the other man’s face was twisting in anger, but he was more focused on the man beside him, watching him relax ever so slightly as he carried on. He was so bloody smug and that would be the death of him.
His blade unsheathed within a fraction of a second and his hand was already in motion, stabbing towards the man’s unarmored throat. He was fast, but someone behind him was faster- no- they were just more prepared, he realized all too late as four prongs bit into his back, sending jolts of pain throughout his body. His muscles seized up and he was crumpling to the ground in an instant, panic setting in at his lack of control over his body and the situation. Soon after he felt weight on top of him, bloody hands pushing his head into the dirt as his arms were wrenched behind his back and cuffs tightened around his wrists.
“You think we wouldn’t figure out about your little family reunions? How stupid do you think we are?” Haytham felt his hot breath against his ear as the man leaned over him.
“You don’t truly want me to answer that, do you?” Haytham inquired, getting his face ground harder into the pavement as a result.
“Enough of that shit,” the man snapped, “We have you and your mongrel, and soon we’ll have your little fuck buddy, too. Where exactly is he, by the way? I would hate to waste the resources sending teams to all possible locations when you can be helpful and tell me the exact one.”
Haytham immediately snarled at the mention of Shay, snapping his head back and hitting the man square in the nose with the back of his skull. As the man fell back, his eyes were aflame as he pushed himself up onto his knees, rage fueling his every movement. Finally he was able to push himself up, breathing hard through bared teeth and glancing about . Eyes meeting Connor’s, a subtle look of concern and worry broke through for a split second before something connected with his temple and the world went black.
When Haytham first stepped out of the group of attackers, Connor felt a simultaneous wave of rage and embarrassment flood through him. He knew that he shouldn’t be surprised, as betrayal like this seemed to be Haytham’s M.O., but it still sent a sharp jab of hurt through him. He had allowed him to get close, had confided in him about things that were very personal, and had even let himself begin to think that maybe they could have some sort of a relationship after all. Now he only looked like a fool. The things that Haytham was saying weren’t even registering to him, Connor remaining where he was on the ground and just glaring up at him with eyes full of hatred, blood dripping slowly down his chin from the ruin of his mouth. He should have known. His mother had been right to keep him away.
Connor retreated into himself, ready to accept his fate, only to blink in confusion when Haytham abruptly sprang into motion, his blade flashing in the moonlight as he drove it towards the throat of the man who had been beating him the most vigorously. He didn’t make it very far, one of the men shooting him with what looked like a gun but instead of wounding him with a bullet, shot metal prongs into his back. He winced as his father hit the ground near him, convulsing from what he could only assume was electricity, and the confusion that he was feeling mounted as one of the men handcuffed Haytham. Wasn’t he a part of Abstergo? Why had he gone to attack them, and why had they been so ready for it? It was then that he remembered how wary Haytham had been to have him at his apartment, and suddenly he understood. They had figured out that it was him who had set Connor free.
There was a loud cracking noise that brought him out of his thoughts, and Connor watched in cold satisfaction as the man who had been on top of Haytham reeled back, blood spurting from his broken nose thanks to Haytham’s headbutt. He watched as his father managed to stumble to his feet, looking for all the world like a feral wolf backed into a corner, and their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, Connor’s brow still knit together in both confusion and concern. Then one of the men drove the butt of their gun into Haytham’s temple and Connor flinched at the blow, instinctively moving forward to try and break his fall but immediately yanked back and then shoved face first to the cement by some of the men. They cuffed his arms behind his back as well, then dragged him up with no regard for the wound in his leg, which throbbed just as steadily as the rest of the damage that they had done to his body. They dragged him over to the back of the van, flung open the doors, and roughly threw him inside, causing him to let out a choked hiss as he landed on his damaged thigh. He managed to struggle up into a sitting position just as they tossed Haytham in with him, two of the men climbing in after him and sitting down on benches near the doors, presumably to keep an eye on them. The doors closed with a solid thunk, and then the van started up. Connor let his head fall back against the wall, glaring sullenly at the two guards while he thought about how Lys would never know what had happened to him. All they would know is that he never returned from patrol. The other assassins would likely sound out scouts to search for him to no avail, and eventually they would figure out what had become of him and realize that there was nothing to be done about it.
The last thing he had said to Lys before he had left for his patrol was that he would be careful.
“Okwaho,” he muttered under his breath. “I am sorry. I have failed you.”
