Assassin's Creed Unity: When All Seems Hopeless... |editing|

If I Was a Marionette, Arno Would Be My Master

If I Was a Marionette, Arno Would Be My Master

Morning's beautiful sunlight shone through Paris like it did every day. Birds sang, the streets were crowded, everything seemed to forget the tragedy that happened just a week before. I sat on my bum next to Pierre's tombstone and tried not to take out my hatred on every little thing.

I wisely had decided that I wouldn't even come within a few miles from the Assassin's Bureau. Instead, I sat contemplating on what I would do for the rest of my life. Sadly, the Brotherhood seemed to be my life from here on out. Once I'm out, I cannot get back in easily. So I just sat, contemplating.

Running away seemed like a plausible option, however, I required extra muscle to move my belongings. Would that work? No matter. I would find a way. Next, it is crucial for me to avoid conflict between the Templars and Assassins. Lay low for a while. Change of identity, appearance, location...

"I'm sorry, Pierre," I whisper to the ground. Frost covered the thin brown grass where I sat on the entire night. His tombstone glittered underneath the light of the morning sun. The graveyard was bleak and desolate.

I stroked the rocky ground where the dirt had been recently disturbed. Six feet under would lay Pierre. Tears pooled in my eyes for the millionth time this week and streaked down my face making clean trails through the dirt on my skin.

"If only--" my breathing hitched. "I-if only I didn't let him d-do that to you." Images of Arno pushing the knife through Pierre's heart made me start trembling uncontrollably. Partially from the cold, mostly from sorrow.

"I'm sorry too," said a voice behind me. I started, but did not move. My gloved hands balled into fists, crushing the dirt clumps that I had picked up. I relaxed my grip and let the dirt fall through my fingers.

"Go away," I hissed. I didn't bother turning. I would know that voice anywhere. And even though he killed Pierre, I just couldn't hate him. I tried but he's a good man.

"Look, I know you hate me but--"

"Before I kill you. Go. Away." I stood up from the ground without turning, brushing the dirt from my old, unwashed garments.

"Rache," he started.

"I said go away!" I screamed, spinning around to face him, my two sabers drawn and in defensive position. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"It's not like that!" Arno said, his expression clouded. "Don't you think I felt the same way when I killed him? I'm not heartless, Rache. Think logically!"

"Oh?" I practically shrieked. "I have to see the world revolve from your perspective? You have no fucking clue how I felt when you killed Pierre! He was my lover, not my mentor!"

"Did you see what he did to Mentor? Open your eyes, Rache! You see the world go by your very eyes and do absolutely nothing about it! Wake up, for the love of God!"

"I'm blind? Look who's talking, you son of a bitch! I do see the world go by but there's nothing for me to do! This country is at war with other countries and mainly itself, Arno. How about you open your eyes and watch it with me, hmm? How about you sit on the rooftops and watch the riots that clog the streets day and night! How about you watch men, women, and children die from starvation. How about you watch the executioners take their victims and cut off their heads for a pathetic and feeble crime such as stealing a loaf of bread! And they have the audacity to do it publicly! How about you watch fathers leave families to attend to a war. That. Will. Never. End!" I screamed. My throat turned raw and scratchy as the last word tore out passed my lips.