Author's notes: Alright, here we go. I was bored, I played a little too much of the game, inspiration hit, sparks flew, the keyboard broke, and here it is.
Before there are any comments, let me get this straight. The main character, Eden Cleare, is a sarcastic, blunt woman who lived through hell, and yet still manages to retain her humanity. I love the way her character turned out, really, and so far, she's very fun to write, especially the dialogue. I hope you enjoy reading about her as much as I love writing about her.
And of course, Ezio. Gotta love him. I haven't really got his character ironed out, but hopefully I hit the nail on the head. If not... well, try to bear with me.
"There she is!"
A lovely introduction, no? Do forgive my lack of manners, because somehow, when I'm chased by three heavily armed policemen, I tend to forget trivial things such as being polite. It must be an illness.
But I'm still chased by those three heavily armed police men, so bug off while I run.
Sharp turn, another, and I sprint down the familiar alleys trying not to step in questionable puddles as I ran. Seriously, can't they dump their water somewhere else? Then again, maybe they mean to make me vomit on the run. Maybe it would slow down the men behind me... or maybe they are just mean.
Either way, let's get the explanations out of the way so you can fully enjoy my sarcasm on the matter at hand, shall we? Currently, I, Eden Cleare, was running very fast away from police men. I guess you gather that much, right? Why, do you ask, I'm running? Why, because somehow they don't like it when I snipe one of the "upholders of the law" when he is trying to hold down one of my friends. Speaking of Jake, I hope I've given him the distraction he wanted, and he better be grateful, because all he would get is a short sentence, while I just earned myself a life-time one. And with the things they might find in my bag, I might even get a worse punishment.
Oh well. I guess didn't like the freedom that much anyway.
But glancing over my shoulder and seeing two (the third one disappeared) of them, bravely roaring after me, waving their guns and sticks everywhere, I decided that I'm lying. I like freedom very very much! I don't want to go to a cell! They smell funny!
At full speed, I took a leap, grabbing onto a ledge that my boys made especially for these get-away's, and swung my legs over the ridge, onto the roof. The idiots in the street probably can't get up here, but I wasn't taking any chances, and kept running. Really, though, it was my luck that we are in the regions of the city where the building aren't at least thirty floors, otherwise it would have taken a lot longer to get away from my pursuers. I contemplated for a second, tempted to stand over them and laugh for a while, but that's an easy way to get a bullet in your gut, so I sighed and turned away from the edge, going to the opposite one.
Ah, night time. Loved it so much. Everything became real, dimensional, magical, endless. Or some other junk that you would read in a crappy book. I liked night time because that was the time when I was alive, whether it was in clubs, drinking the time away, or on the streets with my boys, getting into trouble where possible, it was the only time I really felt like I had a life outside the four walls of my apartment. My, the city looks small from here, which isn't really possible, since I'm standing on a two floor house... And I don't remember there being a church around this place...
Wait a moment... this isn't New York.
I stumbled on the edge of the roof, suddenly struck frozen. The scene around me was definitely not my birth place and hell. It was not the place that was as familiar to me as the flaming whip of the devil. This was not- screw it, I'm out of metaphors. This wasn't New York, plain and simple. Which is physically impossible, because as far as I know, humans can't teleport. But now that I think about it, I don't hear gunshots anymore, or the yelling of my dim pursuers. Everything was quiet as a school two minutes after the final bell.
Okay, let's start small. I dropped my heavy bag beside me so I wouldn't fall off by accident, and leaned over the edge of the roof, which was laid out with some sort of tiling I couldn't see properly in the dark. It was a long drop, a lot longer than the one I climbed a few minutes ago. There were balconies overflowing with flowers and greenery, windows with ornate frames, the streets were clean and beautiful, and lanterns were hung out everywhere. I never seen something like this at home, except maybe in China Town. This looked like...
I don't know, some European city. My hands shook a little as I tried to explain how I came to be here to myself, at least. There was not logical explanation to this, it was just like magic. One moment I was chased by very unfriendly cops, in the hellhole I call home, and the next, I'm standing on the roof of a building in a city on the other side of the planet. Maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe the cops managed to knock me out while I was running, and this was all just a weird product of my tired mind. I felt around for the familiar handle of my gun, and then dug my nails into my own skin.
Okay, ow! Yeah, not a dream! I sucked on my bleeding palm, and looked down at my bag in thought. Then I looked back the way I came. And suddenly, a huge smile spread on my face.
This is epic.
Before you ship me off to the mental asylum, let me quickly explain. I hated that gut hole. Wherever I am now, it can't be worse. Besides, the fact that I just possible teleported was more awesome than... than... me? Yeah, that works. Once I figure out what's going on, maybe I can actually live for a little. After all, the people I remotely cared about were now either dead or in prison, so hey, might as well make the best of this situation!
Now, about where to go... I sat down, crossed legged, and tried my best to think. Suddenly, waves of exhaustion washed over me like some cheesy love promise in the sand, but I forced myself to focus, hoping the adrenaline would be enough to figure my situation out. I currently had about a hundred dollars in my bag, ten knives, three guns, a first aid kit, my lock-picks, my cellphone, iPod, fake ID, and a whole bunch of other goodies I kept around just in case, preferring to be prepared rather than dead. It was dark around me, though the sky seemed to lighten up a little on the horizons, so I concluded wherever I am, it was in a different time zone. In New York, it was just before midnight. I was at least in Europe then, or somewhere around there. I got out my cell, and flicked it open. The light made me close my eyes partially. Strange... no signal. I "hmphed" and put it away. Next, I decided it would be safer to have my more... intimate possessions on me, so I stowed the ID and one of my hand guns into an inside pocket of my black leather jacket, though there was nothing to be done with my baby. My sniper rifle had to stay in it's case, in my bag. Hopefully I won't get searched any time soon. Aside from that, there wasn't much else to hoard. Except my knives, but those were already hidden on various parts of my body.
Then I looked around, and stood up, shouldering my bag. For some strange reason, there were nice looking shelters littered around the roofs, and I headed for the nearest ones. I don't know what they're for, and to be perfectly honest, I don't think I want to know. I shifted aside the curtain, and seeing no one inside, stepped in.
Maybe by some miracle, things might clear themselves up tomorrow. Or today, now, but I was so tired from my earlier, ahem, excitement, that I fell asleep quickly, not minding the cold one bit. This is probably a dream, anyway, and my mind is just playing tricks on me. Any other times I dreamed of escape, I was very violently returned to Earth, and my routine consisting of killing, running, and of course, getting away with all of it restarted itself.
What woke me up was the rude change of lighting. The sun was now at an angle that managed to go through the small space between the curtain and the wood of the frame, landing on my face. My eyes, more specifically, which started burning after a few seconds.
I was not used to waking up fully dressed, really, or with my handgun digging into my thigh. I sat up, fully awake and thinking within seconds. God bless my ancestors for my ability to wake up within moments...
Now, first order of business to to find out where I am. This is not a city in the US, I'm sure of it. After that, maybe I can find some sort of job. I had enough money for now, but that would run out. Then again, I'm also a great pickpocket when I feel like it, and breaking into one of the more expensive houses wouldn't be a challenge. So money won't be a problem, but finding a place to sleep would be a bit harder. I was twenty two with my real ID safe in a secret pocket of my bag, but I didn't want to explain how I managed to get into this country, wherever I am, without a passport or whatever other documents I needed for it. That would be a very short explanation, before they stuff me in a police station or some mental institution.
"Well, sir, you see, I'm not from around here, I was running away from some cops after killing a guy, and then POOF! I'm here. Can I get a room in your hotel anyway?"
I snorted at the thought. Not happening.
The events were making me a little giddy, actually. I was out of the country, and out of my gang's reach, I was finally free! They would look for me, but they can't track me, because they won't believe I actually teleported! I guess leaving my sister behind isn't the most noble thing to do, but the bitch can survive on her own, something she always threw in my face, saying she didn't need or want me beside her. I sighed. We're better off as far away from each other as possible.
Hey, I wonder if my discovery of teleportation is worth anything. That would get me plenty of money... though I can't really explain what I did, and I don't want to be shipped to some place while they do tests on me, so I guess that's out. I stood up, gathering my bag and climbing outside the little shelter, my feet stepping lightly onto the wooden surface of the small stage that the tent stood on. With the sun out, the city looked even more cheerful, the walls a pleasant beige and orange colors, and the rooftops a faded red. And it was definitely more alive- I could hear the people talking below, some louder than others. Especially one, he was very very loud.
"You're not supposed to be up here!" I blinked, looking up to see some man stand on the roof opposite of me, wearing the most ridiculous clothes ever. Strangely, he had a bow and a sword, too. I shifted my eyebrows together. He had a Spanish, or maybe an Italian accent to his voice, though he spoke English. Or, at least I think he did. If I actually managed to teleport, maybe I somehow magically learned Italian or Spanish, as well?
"Just point me to the nearest ladder, then!" I shouted back, my voice a little hoarse. All I wanted to do was laugh right now, but... He grimly pointed to the one beside him. I sighed. I looked at the roof where he stood, scaling it. Not that far, and a bit lower. I took a step back, and ran for it, pushing off the edge with all my strength, and I...
Almost fell, but thank good my muscles had some rest this night and I barely had any trouble pulling myself up. The man looked at me with a dumbfounded expression. I guess that's not how I was supposed to get over here...
"Um, well, it was nice. See you." I muttered, and before he shook himself back to reality, I quickly climbed down the ladder. Before I got out of sight though, I snickered, yelling, "And geez, what's with the tights? We don't need to see that!"
My bag was weighting my down a lot, but I was used to it, though I made sure is was slinged across my chest, just in case. The last thing I needed was for it to be stolen right now.
The people were dressed strangely, to say the least. Women were wearing dresses, generally either velvet, with high hair styles, or slightly more poor, generally the ones sweeping the streets and working in the numeral stores I looked through. The men were wearing... ahen, tights, looking as if they stepped out of a history book, but there were some normal ones, that were dressed more simply, though having a sneaky look to them. I drew attention, I stood out- I was about the only woman wearing pants around here, as well as a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. My brown hair was cut short- I chopped it off a few weeks ago when a cop grabbed my pony tail while chasing me. Thank god I was not alone, and my mother was not around to see it. I only kept it long because she used to love braiding it.
But enough grim thoughts. I left those things behind. No more. New York is now just a painful memory of hell, and the weird tattoo on my arm a simple picture, no longer having any meaning to it. Even though for some reason, my sister claimed that it was not the gang that branded me... But my sister claims a lot of things, and I don't care for any of them.
I kicked some random rock on my way. I didn't care about fitting into the enviromnent, as long as it didn't give me trouble. They people were dressed strangely, but maybe I'm simply in a historical part of Italy, or wherever, filled with loonies who dress that way?
I suddenly noticed what was wrong with the picture. It was... too clean. The sky had a clear tint to it I've never seen before. The streets lacked the stray cigarrete buts and gum, there were carts with pink leaves piled in them, though it looked like decorations, giving the houses around them a cheerful light. And the walls were all in nearly perfect conditions, barely a hint of vandalism that was native to the streets of New York. No light posts, not a car in sight, I couldn't see anything electrical around me at all. The shops that lines the walls didn't have cashier machines...
Where am I? Please don't tell me I time traveled as well as teleported... I think one brain fuck is enough for one day...
I suddenly felt very dizzy. This was not possible. How... what... No, not possible. I need to find directions, somewhere, anywhere, get me out of this place. But where would I go? Home is not an option. Maybe I can make for England or Germany, or perhaps Russia. Moscow is a big place, always moving, much like New York was, maybe I can blend in there.
I was snapped out of my thinking by something bright. And I mean, really bright. I looked up in some wander, just to wrinkle my nose in disgust at the heavy smell of cheap perfume and sex in the air.
The building in question was a huge mansion, decorated with red banners and a lot of flowers. A brothel, by the smell of it all. I sighed. Was there much choice? I don't know this city, and those "guards" don't seem friendly. I took a deep breath (instantly regretting it) and headed to the door. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and knocked, waiting.
This is an introductory chapter, things are going to pick up in the next. Not much happening right now, just a prologue.