#pokessassins

[the-stray-liger]

I WROTE A THING ABOUT CONNOR AND HIS POKEMON. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. HAVE A GOOD DAY. part 1, part 2, part 3

pLEASE READ THIS I'M HOWLING

[whothehellisdante]

A Boy and His Dog — 3/3

[ part 1 | part 2 ]

[also read it on AO3 if you prefer]

When a young Ratonhnhaké:ton sets out to become an Assassin, he gets more than he bargained for when a furry little thing demands his attention.

—Spoilers for AC3 —Assassin’s Creed + Pokemon —Featuring: Connor Kenway, Achilles Davenport

There was something more Connor needed to do. On top of all that he already had to deal with, there was the small matter of bringing a ship back to working order. A brig, however comparatively small to others, apparently needed Connor's help.

And thus he became acquainted with a Robert Faulkner; another friend, and a man who knew more than his personality showed. It seemed he too had a Pokémon that worked and lived alongside him—a Samurott that appeared to have just as many years of experience and knowledge as its human. It showed good temperament; it was tolerable, patient, yet snapped the youngsters out of their loafing. It was a loyal, hardworking Pokémon indeed. A just role model for the still growing Growlithe that had yet to learn the harshness of life.

Faulkner, having begun spending time with Connor thenceforth, understood how closely he felt to his Growlithe, and also how little he knew of Pokémon—not that the older man claimed to be any expert. His knowledge came from what he heard, aside from personal experiences, and shared what he knew with the young man. He spoke largely of something called evolution; something he knew firsthand about, since he'd seen his Samurott evolve before his own eyes. Connor could not fathom what he heard, but he knew how mysterious Pokémon were to begin with. Some could evolve, some could not. Why?

Shortly after one conversation, Faulkner gifted Connor a novelty, something he'd found years ago. Neither of them knew what its use was, but Faulkner figured Connor could find something to do with it—so Connor took the translucent, orange, polished stone from his new companion. He would remember to look at it thoroughly later on.

Things had gone smoothly since repairs to the Aquila started: Connor's training advanced, and in between sessions he helped with the brig. Whenever he found the time, he taught Growlithe what he thought useful to a small dog, among other things. So as Connor grew and gained more skills, his Growlithe did as well. They learned together, rested together, and grew up at the same time with one another. There was nothing Connor found out that Growlithe didn't know about either, even if it might have understood less. All the same, it smartened up. And with Samurott's help, it learned to mature.

It seemed Faulkner's Samurott was a source of guidance to Growlithe, almost the same as Achilles was to Connor.

The difference, however, was that Faulkner taught Connor many things besides what he'd learned from Achilles. The young man was surrounded by people who could show him one thing or another. In this way, Connor had learned a few basics to sailing when the Aquila's repairs were done. It took a good six months or so by the time the ship was completed, almost as good as new. The brig was missing cannons and a few more men, but despite that Faulkner urged Connor to set aboard.

For his first voyage, he'd done well. With Growlithe right there with him, he took the helm and quickly got the hang of sailing and all that came with it. He called out commands and the crew listened; he steered almost expertly; and Faulkner never felt more proud of someone he'd half taken under his wing. It was as if Connor had already been hardwired to sail!

Martha's Vineyard was their one destination, and the trip there was smooth. What hadn't been as pleasant, though, was the stay there. Things went a bit... rough. Fortunately, the Aquila got its cannons and the officers to man them. Connor set sail again, already very comfortable with the position he'd been practicing for.

And so the days went on, Connor steadily becoming familiar with the ins and outs of sailing, and forming a sort of attachment to the brig he'd helped to restore. Their voyage had lasted a few weeks, and in that time even Growlithe developed sea legs. Plus, their confrontation with some smaller ships and a frigate helped to steel the pup's nerves against the sounds and sensations that accompanied naval warfare.

Amazingly, Connor and the crew managed to decimate the attackers. Not bad for a modest brig and an amateur captain at its helm.

Some time after first setting off, the Aquila returned to the Homestead safe and sound, with a successful seafarer in Connor and his little dog just as impressive. With their voyage concluded, Connor found himself making his way back to the manor. He hoped Achilles would not be too cross with him.

"Three weeks and not even a goodbye before you left."

Of course. He should have expected this. Guilt suddenly weighing heavily on Connor, he apologized simply as he could not find anything to say to excuse himself. But he had done so much in only three weeks. If only the old man would give him enough time to elaborate on his activities.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Just like that, Achilles led Connor to the manor's basement. He had only to make a vague suggestion for Connor to snap into obedience and trail his mentor close at his heels.

Finding a ripe opportunity as they walked, the apprentice broke the silence when he spoke. "Mr. Faulkner had much to tell me."

Achilles suddenly seemed to forget the bitterness he feigned just a moment ago when he replied, "He usually does."

"Apart from sailing, too. He talked much of... evolution."

"Oh?" Genuine interest made itself apparent in Achilles' tone. "And what of this did he tell you?"

"Many things, many of which were vague." Connor's voice trailed off as he stepped into the basement with Achilles right beside him. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim space he was by now used to. He continued: "But these were things I found hard to believe; things that did not make sense. One thing that struck me was when he said many Pokémon can evolve, but some cannot."

"Faulkner is right," Achilles replied patiently. His interest in hearing what Connor had to say allowed him to wait and listen, and to respond with calm. "All men can agree that there is no full understanding of this so called evolution. And believe me, many have tried to change that."

"But why?" Connor wondered with sincere curiosity. "Why do some not go through this, while others do? And why change at all?"

"I wish I could tell you that myself. It's just the way things are."

There lay a cloud of silence over the two, Connor's more thoughtful than Achilles', who only remained silent to leave his apprentice some room to think, and maybe change the subject.

But Connor remembered the rock he'd been given a while ago, and realized he had it on him ever since Faulkner gave it to him. He brought it out from beneath the layers of his clothing and held it out for Achilles to see. "Mr. Faulkner gave this to me, too. He did not—"

"This?" the old man echoed as he grabbed it himself, eyes wider than usual as he looked it over. "What did he say about it?"

"Nothing," Connor said frankly, a little taken by surprise by Achilles' sudden animation. "He never knew what it was for and said I should have it."

"And this is the same man that wanted to teach you how to steer a brig," Achilles remarked with a bit of amusement. "Connor, your Growlithe—he can evolve."

For a moment, Connor could not find any words to speak. He merely stared at Achilles, square in the face, almost as if he'd been doused in cold water. But he looked down at the puppy Pokémon that sat at his feet, whose behavior changed upon the news.

"Are you... sure?" the youth asked for confirmation.

Achilles nodded. "I know this."

"Then—"

Anticipating Connor's argument, Achilles immediately explained, "If you'd known back at the beginning, you'd never have gotten this far with your own progress. Besides, you had no means to make him change." With that said, he returned the stone to Connor, who took it back with a lighter touch.

"And this?" Connor wondered.

"That rock is more than a piece of earth," explained his mentor. "Now, I know less of this than I might make it sound, but with that stone, you have a choice to make."

It seemed perhaps it was fate that Connor meet Robert Faulkner; that he become friends with him, and in time receive an item from him that happened to be beneficial. He learned that a Pokémon underwent fantastic changes when evolving. So the stone in his possession facilitated that process? From what he gathered, he could use it to make the change happen—to force it upon his little friend.

Connor did not know—he could not know—what to do. In that moment of revelation, his thoughts became scattered and his attention left all things except for what he beheld in his hand. But Achilles was sure to snap him out of his trance, which he did so with a deliberate tapping of his cane. Connor's eyes darted up at the pair that stared back at him; those which seemingly looked into his mind and studied every doubt, every theory. He did not know what to do. It was not like Achilles could help, either. Opinions and advice the elder could give, but the final choice was Connor's to make—and in the end, it fell on Growlithe to accept.

"You have time to think it over," Achilles reminded. "No need to rush into making any decisions. Besides,"—he motioned at the Assassin robes that Connor had always eyed—"there is one thing..."

Scarcely believing what Achilles implied, Connor carefully stepped forward, reaching out to feel the robes. He was entranced by them that very instant, and he had almost all but forgotten what Achilles had told him.

"Put them on."

With a single glance toward his mentor, Connor finally registered what he was supposed to do. Growlithe would have barked, but felt the atmosphere in the room become quite solemn. It padded closer, however, to the two whose silence was a little more than unbearable at the time. It guessed this was important; Connor had always admired those robes, and it knew he should have felt glad upon having the chance to actually wear them. Growlithe could not believe how good he was at keeping a straight face.

It sat quietly by Achilles as they both waited upstairs for Connor to try on his new clothes; and upon his return, rose to its paws in wonder and excitement.

Connor was barely recognizable as he now wore the robes of his aspirations. It would take time to get used to the fit and feel, but nevertheless he was more pleased than he cared to show. But he also knew that he now carried certain responsibilities with him, and he understood the weight of his duties that he vowed to fulfill. For the moment, at least, he could bask a little in self-indulgence.

Growlithe was the first to walk over, sniffing its boy's boots and giving a cheery bark in response to his new appearance. Connor only nodded, and bent over to pat the tuft of fur on the Pokémon's head. He immediately looked at his mentor when he straightened out, who so far had been watching him studiously. He approached him, and after locking eyes with the man for a brief second, the other decided to speak.

"Once upon a time, we had ceremonies on such occasions. But I don't think either of us are really the type for that. You've your tools and training; your targets and goals; and now you have your title."

Something inside Connor demanded him to brace himself.

"Welcome to the Brotherhood, Connor."

The impact from those precise words was more than he'd expected it to be. But he did well in coping, accepting, and reacting. His outside showed sobriety, but his inside was going through something else completely.

As Achilles turned away, he made his voice heard when he said, "There is something else."

The old man paused to listen.

"I have made a decision. I had time to think, and—" He stopped himself when he pulled the same orange stone out from beneath his layers of clothing as before, capturing Growlithe's focus with it. He knelt down, to get closer to his friend, and held the stone out to it so it could get a better, more direct look at it. "If it's all right with you," he said to the pup, "I think the time is now."

Growlithe was not sure of what to do. It didn't know if evolving was right or wrong; if doing it now was right or wrong. But Connor thought it should be done. Perhaps that would be a good thing; and to do so after Connor reached a milestone of his own. It would help them both. Growlithe would be more useful, even more of an asset to its human partner. Was there any harm in it?

But Achilles chimed in with a taste of reality. "You understand that there is no turning back after this."

Connor, anticipating Achilles' intervention, replied, "I am ready as long as he is willing. And... I believe he deserves this. We have both been through a lot since I brought him here, and I think he is ready to take this step."

"Something like you, then? To mature the same way you have and to take the same steps you have taken?"

"I suppose."

The new Assassin was hoping to hear something else from Achilles, but the old man said nothing, and the silence that followed their short exchange cemented the fact that it was all up to Connor. Some doubts floated around his head, telling him that this was too soon, that Growlithe needed more time. But more and more thoughts convinced him that there was no time like the present; that there was no better opportunity, no better set of conditions. Achilles was there, Connor became a full Assassin, Growlithe had just returned from a journey out to sea with its friend—

The pup had no way of knowing how evolution took place, but it saw the stone gleaming in Connor's hand and only guessed that touch would trigger the metamorphosis. It stretched its neck, touching lightly the stone with its nose, and that alone seemed to do the trick. Within an instant, the Pokémon glowed a bright white, almost blinding in intensity which caused Connor to narrow his eyes, almost shut them. There was no way to turn back.

He could see the Pokémon's form changing inside the light; it grew bigger—much bigger—height increasing until it reached about a foot just below the ceiling. It extended out as well, giving Achilles a reason to move aside. The light that emanated from the evolving Growlithe grew as the Pokémon itself did, but soon it began to dim, the Pokémon's new form and size fixed and eventually revealed with the dying light.

What stood in Growlithe's place was by far the largest canine Connor, and even Achilles, had ever laid eyes on. Its coloring was much like Growlithe's, but so much of the rest had changed in such a short amount of time. Instead of rounded ears, there was now a pair of pointed, angular ones at the sides of its head. Even more fur covered its body, and the fur on its tail had doubled in volume. More black markings streaked across its pelt, and the babyish look to its face had disappeared entirely.

Only then had Connor realized the stone was nowhere to be found: his hands were empty, and nothing accidentally fell to the floor. He stared on in awe at the newly evolved Growlithe—though it was not Growlithe anymore, as Achilles pointed out. This new Pokémon was Arcanine, according to the old man, and Connor found no reason to disbelieve his knowledge.

"Arcanine," Connor repeated to make sure he got it right.

His Pokémon responded to the new name with a gentle crooning. Like Connor, Arcanine too gained a new identity. Arcanine's voice became deeper, but only somewhat, with more ferocity to it. However, both its appearance and its voice did nothing to affect its personality, which remained very playful, almost childlike, the way it had always been. With this Connor was familiar, and he saw that in Arcanine's eyes. The Pokémon was only some inches taller than him, and he still had room to sprout. The two would definitely look like an imposing pair once Connor grew to his full height.

But despite the drastic change in Arcanine's physiology, it was rather unaware of anything happening at all, and actually stood quite content and steady where it was. It did, however, wag its massive tail and pad forward to joyfully lick Connor's face. Now it could give him kisses whenever it wanted; no longer did it have to wait until it was carried or for Connor to sit at ground level. The now small human accepted the affection with a bit of reluctance. He felt the heat that emanated from the giant Pokémon which was very new to him. Its fire probably burned hotter than ever before!

"My, how you've grown," Achilles remarked to Arcanine as he made his way to Connor. He felt the immense warmth too as he ran his hand against its fur. "That stone must have been absorbed during the evolution. I've heard of such a thing."

"But why? How?"

Shaking his head, the old mentor replied, "No one knows. There are only witnesses, like you and I, who have to stand and wonder."

Connor found himself unable to say anything. No words came to his mind, and he merely stood where he was as the realization of everything that passed started to soak in. He could hardly believe he had just become an Assassin; that he was now closer to picking off the Templars than he'd ever been—and he was ready for it. Plus, now having a bigger and better Pokémon, with enhanced abilities and powers to match, would aid him a great deal in his quest. Together, they would bring down their foes. The Grand Master, too, should quake in fear.

"Connor," the old man said as he spoke very frankly, "it's all up to you now. The fate of the Brotherhood lies in your hands, and even that of this country. Both are very fragile right now, both capable of falling under Templar control."

"I— We will put an end to their plot," the young Assassin reaffirmed with the purest of confidence. He put a hand on Arcanine to demonstrate that he and it would work in unison to meet their goals.

Arcanine, once out of the picture, was now a part of Connor's vision. This delighted the Pokémon. It growled to show its readiness and determination.

Achilles could think of a few things to say; he could have told Connor to exercise extreme caution, to be wary of the countless dangers he faced, to remember how to survive and adapt, to trust his better judgment and to leave said trust in the hands of only those who were wholesome. To not accidentally put his trust in a Templar. But none of these things he said. He forgot briefly that his own trust need be placed in the hands of his own apprentice. Connor would do well; he'd seen the potential in him, and the boy had such fierce resolve anyway. That alone would lead him far.

Very simply, with a nod he replied, "I hope so."

[whothehellisdante]

A Boy and His Dog — 2/3

[ part 1 | part 3 ]

[also read it on AO3 if you prefer]

When a young Ratonhnhaké:ton sets out to become an Assassin, he gets more than he bargained for when a furry little thing demands his attention.

—Spoilers for AC3 —Assassin's Creed + Pokemon —Featuring: Connor Kenway, Achilles Davenport

When Achilles told Ratonhnhaké:ton that he needed his help with the manor, the youngster never expected he'd find himself in such a place as Boston. That, and he'd apparently needed a new name. He didn't argue with Achilles, and so was given another identity: Connor.

But, deep down, he would always be the boy from Kanatahséton.

This new name was something that would take getting used to. Not just for Connor, but for the Growlithe that had only begun to know him as Ratonhnhaké:ton. It was likely with age, however, that the Pokémon would understand both names belonged to the same human. As it stood, he would be known as Connor for a large part.

Achilles had sent him off to buy the supplies he sought, and Growlithe went with him—just the day after they'd met. It tailed him everywhere, following closely without straying too far for too long. Quickly it had learned to stick close to the one who cared for it. The attachment had already formed, and Growlithe liked Connor anyway. It was plain to see, without the need for Connor to admit it, that they spent much time together over the past several hours.

For the time being, though, he found himself amid upheaval in the streets, and his attention belonged to Boston entirely. Crowds amassed, yelling and mixing together, growing, spreading out. Connor navigated through the angry civilians, with Growlithe confused yet still close at his heels. And there, finally, he met up with Achilles, who'd also expressed bewilderment. But they both heard; the people were complaining of unfair taxes. The British who tried to restore peace were all but spat at.

"What happened?" the boy wondered when he reached his mentor.

"That's what we're going to find out."

Not exactly what Connor wanted to hear. Yet he followed Achilles through the crowds all the same.

Anger spewed from every citizen that congregated. With the thickening crowds, the heat of their passions boiled. Connor distinctly heard one yelling, "You're right cowards, pointing guns at unarmed folk!" among a hash of others claiming they were fearless in the face of the British. He'd even heard the British themselves throwing shouts and warnings back at the people of Boston. Was this all so necessary?

But his heart stopped when Achilles pointed out someone behind the organized British line of defense. A man he recognized, a man he'd come to know as the Grand Master himself.

"Is that my father...?" Connor wondered out of disbelief. Of course he knew; the Grand Master, his own father, was right there in front of him. A Pokémon was beside him, too, Connor saw. One with a seemingly quick eye, and navy feathers and a bonnet to match the appearance of the Grand Master. It was almost as if the Pokémon was only there to complement Haytham Kenway.

Connor almost hadn't caught what Achilles instructed, but his ears hadn't deceived him as his courage, which surely had in some way. He faltered a little, reluctance creeping up as he now had to follow—dangerously closely—a man that had engaged the Grand Master's attention earlier, and perhaps fortunately kept him from noticing the boy who stared at him with more fascination than was safe.

Growlithe was inclined to follow, and actually did for the first few steps, but Connor was wise to pick up on Growlithe's presence and directed the hopeless thing to stay behind. If Growlithe was older, tagging along would have been all right, but...

Connor had managed to carry out his instructions, but unfortunately things turned sour right after he'd stopped his target. He tried to run, to hide, to not get shot and killed, and all with a helpless pup who stubbornly refused to leave. Suddenly he was alone, and just as helpless as the pup he carried.

He was hunted, believed to be the one responsible for throwing the already agitated crowd into chaos—and it was all thanks to his father, who too kindly pointed him out to a British soldier. That's when the hounds were sent upon him.

Muskets fired, people screamed, and soldiers yelled to track down the unprepared Connor. It was all very nerve-wracking, very close to disaster.

Running and hiding suddenly became two skills that needed perfecting on the spot.

Thankfully, his pursuers had eventually lost his trail. But he was a wanted child, with a price on his head. Apparently, that's what he'd learned from a Samuel Adams, who very graciously helped him cover his own tracks, and proceeded to help him return to the Davenport Homestead. It seemed from the entire mishap, Connor had gained an ally; a rare and precious thing. The boy and his pup spent a good couple of weeks out at sea before they found themselves home again. Connor's frustration when he met Achilles was understandable.

But the time he spent without guidance—on his own, with just his Pokémon by his side—gave him a great deal of insight. Additionally, he'd taken that time to bond, unwittingly, with the Pokémon he thought he wanted no association with. Growlithe turned out to be more loyal and comforting than he'd ever imagined. It never left his side, it always rose to defend him. And when threatened by Rattata in the underground tunnels, Growlithe had used its first attack to scare them away. A modest Ember impressed Connor and even Samuel Adams, and it goes without saying it was a definite surprise. Even Growlithe had not realized what sort of power it was capable of. This was a turning point in its growth, and in the growth of the pair's relationship, too.

Another surprise had waited for Connor back at the manor, as it turned out. Achilles granted him use of a pair of Hidden Blades, an Assassin staple. As Connor fitted them on, he realized he'd taken an important step on his journey to becoming a full-fledged member of the Brotherhood. There was a sense of pride in him at that moment, and Growlithe barked to emphasize that.

But, as with anything, the pleasant moment could not last. The tiny group was interrupted by frantic knocking at the window, and Connor found this a good opportunity to put the training he'd so far gathered to use. Aside from the fact that he needed to save a man's life, of course.

[whothehellisdante]

A Boy and His Dog — 1/3

[ part 2 | part 3 ]

[also read it on AO3 if you prefer]

When a young Ratonhnhaké:ton sets out to become an Assassin, he gets more than he bargained for when a furry little thing demands his attention.

—Spoilers for AC3 —Assassin's Creed + Pokemon —Featuring: Connor Kenway, Achilles Davenport

The snow almost went up to his knees whenever he took a clumsy step.

Ever since he sought out the symbol that presented itself in his "vision," for lack of a better word, he'd come to know a man by the name of Achilles and his association with a particular bunch known simply as Assassins. Indeed, the symbol that had burned itself in his curious mind was the very thing that identified an Assassin.

And it was an Assassin Ratonhnhaké:ton was aiming to become. Hence his trudging in the deep snow—all part of his training. He had only started a few days ago, but he was as determined as ever. The bitter cold helped to steel himself. Yet, he was still a boy in his teenage years, and all the strain he was putting on his body all of a sudden did take its toll.

He found himself alone, with Achilles back at the Homestead while he was left to his own devices as he worked himself. The weather was pleasant, considering all things; bright sun, refreshing snow, crisp air with a chill to it, and a still wind. Ratonhnhaké:ton could get the most done on a day such as this. He ventured out into the wilds that branched away from the Homestead, as he'd often done, for the purpose of bettering his newly learned skills. It seemed that the old man had put enough trust in him to just let him wander.

No matter how much trouble he had pacing through the freshly settled snow, the boy always managed to struggle his way back to where he was expected. But for the moment, he could stay out longer. It was still day, after all.

His hours were spent jumping, running, climbing—going through trial after trial, with progress hardly showing for all the work he put into his practice. Frustration began to set in, and Ratonhnhaké:ton knew it was best to stop before he'd anger himself. He sunk down into the snow as he rested, not at all bothered by the cold pressing against him. With the day still so young, he felt disappointed, wasteful. But what could he do? No one could change in a day.

The quiet of the wilderness comforted him, at least. He listened to the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, the birds chirping here and there. He started to remember the day he left Kanatahséton, and the days even long before, when he survived and lived largely on his own; and he remembered even further back, when he was still so young, his mother still with him...

Rustling snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts. He heard it near, and he sprang to his feet in alert. He grabbed his tomahawk, ready to defend himself. He could feel he was suddenly not alone, but had the suspicion the presence belonged to a wild animal rather than a human. His eyes locked to a large evergreen amidst a group of smaller specimens that surrounded it. A snowbank conveniently covered some of its lowest branches. The sound definitely came from there, as he was keenly aware.

Ratonhnhaké:ton hadn't moved, though perhaps doing so would have been the wisest idea. He bravely stood his ground, maybe thinking fending off a hungry predator would do wonders for his Assassin training. As he waited, he heard more rustling, watched the branches shuffle, and heard...

...a yip?

An animal emerged from behind the pile of snow: brown fur with black markings, short legs, and a round, black nose. It stared at him, curious yet unafraid, and in fact friendly. Its tongue suddenly peeped out of its mouth, its large gray eyes giving it the look of a baby. A hungry predator this was not.

Ratonhnhaké:ton relaxed at the sight of the pup. It seemed he was right about there being an animal, although he was wrong to fear for his life—apparently. Though there was every possibility the young pup's parents would be around. In any case, he put away his tomahawk and straightened himself out from the defensive stance he'd taken.

Feeling it best to let the pup go on its way, he turned to ignore it and started on his own way back to the Homestead. As his feet fell through snow, he heard heavier poofs behind him between steps. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted the young Growlithe unsurprisingly covering his tracks.

"No," the boy demanded simply. Trying his best to sound assertive and unwavering, he made it clear to the Pokémon that it should not follow.

But Growlithe only watched him.

Attempting to leave again, Ratonhnhaké:ton turned away, but Growlithe moved forward. Another "no" came accompanied by pointing in the opposite direction. The pup glanced back only to return its gaze upon the human.

His shoulders sagged, suddenly weighed by impatience. A sigh left his mouth as he wondered how to deal with a Pokémon that evidently could not understand. He wondered how Achilles was able to tame the two Pokémon that he'd been living with. Could they understand him? Was this Growlithe just too young?

The pup seemed to gather some bravery and stumbled toward Ratonhnhaké:ton, almost reaching his legs before he decisively hopped away. It looked up at him, large gray eyes seemingly reflecting sadness, and finally stirring up some sympathy from the reluctant human. He bent over, offering a hand to the pup who curiously craned its neck to sniff that which hovered in front of its muzzle. It stumbled forward, touching his palm with its cold nose before giving it a lick. The Pokémon smiled at him then, or at least it looked like it had. Ratonhnhaké:ton could only gather that the pup was aware of there being no danger, hence it putting even more trust in him. This might have been a mistake.

The Growlithe sat close to him then, ears pricked outward as if paying the utmost attention to him. Ratonhnhaké:ton wondered if now it would take heed and go back to whence it came. He pointed again in the same direction as before, frowning to show how serious he felt. Growlithe didn't move, didn't even look back.

He really didn't need this.

The Assassin-in-training was nearing his wit's end. He thought of only one thing he could do. He bent over again, put his hands around the pup, and picked it up off the ground before resting it against his chest. Awkwardly, he held the Pokémon near him, and that seemed to give it great excitement. He was less joyous about the whole thing, but regardless he carried the Growlithe with him as he returned to the Homestead.

"I thought you would know what to do."

It was no surprise that Achilles had been struck with a genuine sense of confusion when he saw his charge with an unusually happy wild Pokémon standing outside the front door. It was hard to believe the tale Ratonhnhaké:ton had related, but then again Achilles had heard stranger things.

"It would not leave me alone," the boy repeated from earlier.

Growlithe was pleasantly still in his arms, panting as it looked around, finding Achilles the most interesting thing to look at. Not even the Watchog and Herdier that stood on either side of him grabbed its foremost attention.

"It's still very young," Achilles noted, but this Ratonhnhaké:ton already knew. "It might have been left behind by its family. Whatever the reason for its being alone in the woods, one thing is very clear to me: it has obviously seen you as a potential parent." There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he indicated the teenager had just become a caregiver without even volunteering. "It reached out to you, boy, and you brought it back here. You've already accepted it as yours."

"But I only mean to help it until it is old enough—"

"When that time comes, that Growlithe will have become too attached to you and the life you're offering."

There was a look of concern on the boy's face, and he glanced down at the heap in his arms as he projected himself in such a time span. "So you mean to tell me that... this is mine now?"

A silent nod from Achilles confirmed his growing suspicions. "Unless he suddenly decides he doesn't need you anymore."

"'He'?"

"Trust me on that one," Achilles replied with something of a wise smile. He added, with sudden gravity, "This is a great responsibility, so raise that Growlithe seriously."

Ratonhnhaké:ton only nodded as he listened, taking to heart everything his mentor had said.

With the usual advisories out of the way, the mood lightened once the old man's voice reflected contentment. "Now, let's get you both inside." He could only pray that the pup would not cause as much trouble as he predicted—and that his apprentice would make all the right decisions regarding his newest task.

[whothehellisdante]

Connor's Arcanine playing with Haytham's Honchkrow's tail feathers and annoying the shit out of it

[whothehellisdante]

Let's talk about how Aveline has to go to New York to find Connor and her Chespin goes with her. Let's talk about how Chespin feels jealous of Arcanine because it's bigger, more powerful, gets more credit etc.

Let's talk about how Chespin puts itself at risk to prove how strong and skillful it is and that it's not merely a "cute" Pokemon. Let's talk about how Aveline appreciates the display and praises the Pokemon and tells it how proud she is.

Let's talk about how Connor acknowledges its spirit and courage and how those things are vital qualities alone and how he lets Aveline know that she's done a good job raising it.

LET'S TALK ABOUT HOW CHESPIN IS ALL PROUD AND KIND OF BASHFUL TOO AND ARCANINE IS ALL HAPPY AND THEY GET ALONG--

[whothehellisdante]

I really want Pokessassins fan art lmao

It just makes so much sense because Pokemon are everywhere since they replace real world animals and seeing people and Pokemon work together warms my heart so bad

I can write what I can but you know--a picture is worth a thousand words, so

[whothehellisdante]

The Big Boss — 3/3

[ part 1 | part 2 ]

[also read it on AO3 if you prefer]

Haytham meets an interesting character who takes an interest in him as well. However, such an encounter brings with it misadventures. Charles can only stand by and observe.

—Mild language for a few curses, spoilers for AC3 —Assassin’s Creed + Pokemon —Featuring: Haytham Kenway, Charles Lee

Honchkrow was a proud thing to behold: glossy dark blue feathers with white and red—not to mention a topper on its head which could easily rival the Grand Master's. Now it would be treated with the respect it deserved. An outcast no more; it would be feared by all Murkrow, and challenge the other Honchkrow that dared to defy it. With a new candor that reflected terror, this Honchkrow would own Boston and wilds around it.

Or that was once the hope.

Ever since it was ousted by the leader of its former flock, the Murkrow was isolated and undesirable to others. Aimless and without the protection of a group, it found itself in a tough spot. But no more. The arrival of the Providence was all it needed in order for its luck to return.

Now a Honchkrow, a Pokémon symbolic of authority, it felt its purpose renewed. Yet, something was hollow. Something was lacking.

And Honchkrow knew perfectly what that was.

Haytham's mood had soured when he returned to the Tavern. He was actually surprised to see Charles Lee still there, right where he'd been left. Upon his return, Lee had poured over the Grand Master and his frightening change in condition. Asking him every manner of question, and begging a thousand pardons, Lee tailed Kenway as the pair stepped inside the establishment.

"Charles, I'm afraid your stone is now in someone else's hands."

His delivery of the news was so cold, so collected, that Charles could only acknowledge with a hesitant "Oh."

And when he explained how he came to be covered in something very similar to soot, Charles could only apologize.

But Haytham did remember to leave out a few important details. The conversation never made headway as he busied himself dusting the mess off his clothes. The task was more difficult than it should have been, and when he expressed annoyance, Charles took it upon himself to continue for him—but Haytham was adamant that it should just be left alone, reinforced by Hickey's chortling. At least Haytham managed to clean his skin, though his hair could have used... more.

The day drew on, passing into evening, with the Templars discussing their next move all the while. Haytham was not totally into the subject at hand, however; and considering he had a headache, he could care less about their united motives. He merely sat at the table with the others, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to block out the noise of the inn—associates included.

But with the arrival of night came the chirping of crickets, as if to add insult to injury. Haytham was just tired now. All he wanted was to retire for the night.

However, another sound was mixed in.

Haytham glanced over at Charles, then making his voice heard for the first time in about an hour. "Charles?"

"Sir?" the other answered curiously, not quite turning to face him. The others suddenly quieted down.

"What is that sound?"

Charles listened carefully, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. He couldn't place it at first, but he too heard something. Some kind of yelling. But it hardly sounded human.

Haytham stood, quitting the room and marching directly outdoors. His associates followed. His headache and blackened clothes told him what he should have expected to see upon making it past the threshold. He was not surprised, but definitely curious. He let out a sigh as he beheld the large, plump Honchkrow cawing its heart out atop the same building as earlier in the day.

It noticed him and cawed at his presence. It was definitely the same bird that took advantage of him. There was a glint in its eye that told Haytham it was pleased to see him. How he felt about it, though, could not be compared.

Charles leaned over to the Grand Master and wondered, "Is that what I think it is?"

"I believe so—and the thief who took your stone."

Honchkrow flew down, approaching the group but stopping a good distance away from the Grand Master. It looked up at him, admiring how the remains of its Haze attack stuck to him.

"Y'know tha' thing?" Hickey asked disparagingly as he shoved past Johnson. He took a good look at the Pokémon but wasn't impressed.

"Unfortunately," Haytham answered. He walked forward, narrowing his eyes at the creature that stood almost in defiance before him. "What is it you want now? You have what you sought. Are you still not satisfied?"

Honchkrow's approach wasn't hostile, but lenient. It looked only at Haytham, desiring only his attention. Honchkrow felt that it would not lead a fulfilling life if it only surrounded itself with Murkrow. That part of its life had passed ever since it was exiled. It no longer desired to head a flock, as its newly gained power could be used for something more. The Templars presented it with a new opportunity whether or not they knew it.

But Haytham also felt something; like this Pokémon was not like any other, and its fixation on him must have held a deeper meaning. The way it outsmarted him, used him for its personal gain, was telling of its ability and its heightened intelligence. It was obvious to him that Honchkrow displayed a controlled amount of wit out of discretion, and that surprises lurked beneath its plumage. What an asset it could prove to be.

Houndoom snarled at the infiltrator, just waiting for the command to be given—but this time Haytham would not allow another screw-up. He cautioned Charles to keep the dog under complete control as he worked out a strategy.

With an air of delicacy, Haytham took another step forward, clasping his hands behind his back, suggesting, "Now, let's sort this out—without the need for tricks."

Honchkrow was silent and only observed him. It blinked, and allowed the Templar to say more.

"Why have you come back? I honestly thought you were done with us."

No response.

"In what way do we interest you?"

Nothing.

"...We could serve each other."

An attractive thought. Had Haytham gotten the same idea? The bird tilted its head as if to encourage him to go on.

"That smoke you used to incapacitate me can be very useful." Haytham thought quickly, came up with a lie: "We could provide you with all manner of lustrous curiosities. Only offer us your... advanced services."

"Are you certain about this?" Charles whispered, full of doubts. He could not put his trust into a thieving wretch, and wondered why Haytham apparently felt differently.

"Its abilities will give us the edge," the Grand Master answered, exaggerating awe as he spoke aloud so that Honchkrow could hear. He gave it a charismatic smile, adding, "Ours would be a mutually beneficial relationship. What say you?"

The others remained silent as they watched, waiting with some level of confusion and apprehension. For Johnson and Hickey, this was all news to them. But if the Grand Master wanted a Pokémon, then why not? There seemed to be a handful of them already, what with Lee's Houndoom and a Scraggy that accompanied Hickey.

The proposal was enticing, to say the least. There was virtually nothing Honchkrow had to give aside from its cooperation. In fact, it had everything to gain. It knew that many humans were kind to Pokémon, treating them like equals, and it honestly had not seen any malice from Haytham. If anything, his reactions were due to provocation. Honchkrow had been terrible to him, in reality.

It thought deeply, quietly, stiff as a board.

Haytham knew that agreement was practically in the bag. He let the Pokémon muse a while longer as he turned to Hickey, asking him to fetch him something from the Tavern. A kind of an offering, as insurance. Food almost always sealed the deal for a Pokémon, especially one that struggled each day to keep itself from starving. Haytham would take it upon himself to keep the bird fed and thus satisfy it further with their arrangement—and he could always talk the others into helping.

When Hickey returned, Haytham blindly opened up his hand to receive the food.

"You 'adn't specified," the youngest of the men explained with something of a careless smirk.

The Grand Master had to do a double take as he nearly presented the offering. He set eyes on what exactly he'd been given, and turned sharply to Hickey and hissed, "Cheese?! Thomas, birds— forget it." He changed his mind about giving a lecture. It would have to do.

He proceeded with his plan, and walked toward Honchkrow who had perked up in curiosity as it watched him after it heard his voice rise. He revealed the contents of his hand, bending over some to get as level with the Pokémon as he could without stooping unnecessarily. "Here: if you take this, you accept partnership. Otherwise, you're free to go off into the woods, or wherever it is you come from, to try your luck, same as always."

Honchkrow stared at the gift that seemed to stare right back, almost beckoning. But whether food was involved or not, Honchkrow had made its choice. Wings outstretched, it raced forward and snatched the piece of cheese right from the hand that fed it. Haytham ducked instinctively as the Flying-type nearly crashed into him, but it swerved upward and safely placed itself upon the Green Dragon Tavern's roof. It turned around, looked him in the eye, and began to pick away at the food. Its fate was sealed, and it had no second thoughts.

"Well," Haytham observed, pleased, "that was fairly simple." He watched his new partner as it all but choked down the cheese, and it cawed at him when it finished. Perhaps saying "thank you"? He could only guess, but doubted, too, that what it said was anything like an expression of gratitude. Still, the development was satisfactory for both ends, and he smiled lightly in accomplishment.

What started as a confrontation ended on surprisingly amiable terms. Since the beginning, Honchkrow didn't understand why it had chosen to follow him. The purple rock was only a bonus reward; but even after evolving, it thought the same of him as it had when it first laid eyes on him. It liked to torment him; it liked seeing his tried expressions; it liked the authority he held, and the way he carried himself. He was something worth admiring, and Honchkrow could benefit from his presence.

"We've found ourselves a new Templar," Johnson remarked amusingly, but there was truth to his words.

"How long will that last, I wonder?" Charles mused aloud.

Haytham rested a hand on the man's shoulder, encouraging in behavior as the small group walked back to the Tavern. "Now, Charles, let's put some faith into this relationship. I trust we can depend upon Honchkrow."

"Since you believe so strongly in it, sir, I will try to do the same."

Without extended conversation, the men retreated back into their shelter, and the fuss was all over. Honchkrow would be spending more time with the Houndoom that disagreed with it, but that was no issue anymore. Honchkrow had a human now.

It belonged.