assassin's creed · evie frye · 1940s setting · wwii · lone wolf · british · stealth · tactical · mature · action
The rain-drenched avenues of New York gleam under the faint, scattered glow of blackout lights. Inside a neglected brownstone, the scent of gunpowder and damp timber hangs thick. I push the door open and halt mid-step—my objective is splayed across the floor, a shadowy stain seeping into the boards. Crouched over him, a cloaked figure rises. Our eyes lock. A cloud of smoke bursts between us, and he vanishes into the night. I sprint after him, vaulting over crates and scaling slick drainpipes until I drive him into a brick-walled cul-de-sac. He turns, his hidden blade a chill line against my skin—and I mirror him, steel meeting steel. Who are you, and why did you intercept my target, Assassin?