Vlad Meets the Brotherhood

A FanFic crossover of Vlad Tod and Assassin's Creed for the "Vlad Meets..." contest on Heather Brewer's (Auntie Heather's) Minion Horde group page. (May make into FanFic series)

Vlad Meets The Brotherhood

A story about the Pravus becoming an Assassin

I stand in the cold as I watch the flames of the funeral pyre burn the remains of my true love and the first vampire I ever turned. Snow didn’t deserve this! She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She didn’t deserve to die at the hands of a Slayer. Not like that.

We were going back to our dorms at Stokerton University from the movies. It was one of our date nights, that night. We were laughing and having fun, just being us. We had just seen the latest slasher flick at the theater and we were going stop at The Crypt to grab something to drink, since they started serving the “House Red”. We weren’t hurting anyone or doing anything, but that didn’t stop what happened.

Out of nowhere, a guy wearing a shirt with this red cross on it that looked kind of familiar jumps out!

“Is there something we can help you with,” I ask as I put my arm protectively around Snow.

He says nothing to us. Just whips out a stake and charges at Snow! I try to use my Pravus powers to stop him, but it doesn’t work. So I try to stop him myself, but he side-steps me and I move right past him. From there, I’m powerless as I watch him shove the stake into Snow’s big, warm, beautiful heart.

And now, here I am. Surrounded by Otis, Henry, October, the Bathory Goths and other friends and vampires yet I’ve never felt so alone. A piece of me died with that beautiful angel. And the only clue I have to her killer is a Slayer with a cross.

A hand closes on my shoulder in a gentle grip I know well. “I’m so sorry, Vladimir,” Otis whispers to me. “I know your pain all too well.”

“No you don’t, Otis,” I turn and snap at him. “You may have lost Nelly, but that was us both. I lost her, too! I lost my dad, a close friend, and now Snow! She was everything to me!”

I break down and let the tears pour out of my eyes and the sobs and cries of agony escape my throat. I pound the earth with my fist, leaving a giant hole where my fist connected to the ground. I let all the hurt, the pain, the anger, even the sorrow come out.

I feel Otis wrap his arms around me in an attempt to comfort me. Then Henry follows suit, and October after him. Soon I’m surrounded by everyone and held in a prison of arms trying to bear comfort and support. It helps, but not that much. At least I know that those I still have left care enough to make the effort.

As the flames die down, the vampires scatter to go feast, Henry, October and the other Goths leave to head back to the city. Only Otis and I remain.

“Vlad?” he tentatively asks.

“Yeah, Otis,” I reply, my voice cracking, still torn up from all of the tears.

“Is there anything you can tell me about who did this?”

“I already called Joss,” I say. “He called me back about an hour before the pyre and said that there were no Slayers, past or present, that fit the bill.”

“Then why don’t you describe him to me,” he retorts. “In case you forgot, I do have a few centuries of experience over Joss. Plus, I just so happen to be your uncle, remember?”

I open my mouth to try to argue, but it’s pointless. He’s already won this argument.

“I don’ remember much about him,” I admit. “He came out of nowhere, stake at the ready. I remember trying to stop him with my abilities, but it didn’t work. When I went after him, he dodged me and that’s when he got Snow. That’s it.”

“But was there anything that really stuck out about him?”

I think back to that night once more and an image comes to mind: “He was wearing something with a big red cross on it. It actually looked kind of familiar. Like I’d seen it somewhere before, you know?”

All this time, Otis’s eyes have gotten so wide, a dollar piece would be jealous.

“Are you sure that the cross was red,” he asks with a worried tone.

“I’m positive, Otis,” I bite. “This is the guy who killed the love of my life, remember? How am I just not gonna remember that?”

“Vlad, do you realize what this means,” he asks me in that same worried tone. “It means that the Templars are real and they’re after you.”

“Templars,” I raise my eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Vladimir, do you remember the history lessons about the Crusades?’

“Unfortunately, yes,” I answer. Where’s this going?

“Vlad, think about it! Wasn’t there an elite group of knights whose symbol was a red cross? And wasn’t there rumors of an ulterior motive to this group?”

“Yeah, I remember them. They were called the Knights Templar or Templar Knights, right? Weren’t they disbanded after the Crusade?”

“That’s what historians recorded, anyway,” he replies. “Rumor has it that they’ve been waging a secret war to control the world. And, when it comes to vampires, they’re much worse than Slayers. All this time there’s only been one group to stand up to them.”

“Who,” I inquire, desperate to know.

“They’re called the Assassin Brotherhood. They are a group of men and women who are trained in a creed that goes back to before the Crusade and who fight for freedom. They are the last line of defense against the Templars. I always thought that they were just rumors, but after this, I’m not so sure. If they are real, then this changes things for you, Vladimir.”

“How’s that, Otis,” furrowing my brow in concern.

“Vladimir, your mother never told you of her heritage, did she?”

“It never came up. Why?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Vlad, you have to listen closely to what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

I nod my head in agreement. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what’s going on here. What is it that Otis isn’t telling me? What’s he trying to hide from me? And, most of all, why is he trying to hide it?

“Vlad,” he starts. “Your ancestors were Assassins.”

“WHAT!?” I shout at him. “My ancestors were what, now?”

“Vladimir, please listen,” Otis pleads with me. “This is all theoretical, based on historic information, well, more or less a ‘lack of’ historic information, and hear-say rumors. But, if this is all true, then this may have some credibility.”

I buried my face in my hands, trying to absorb all of this. First, the love of my life dies. Then, I find out that my ancestors were probably part of some secret group that’s fighting a secret war against another secret group. What’s gonna happen next? Tacos raining from the sky, or the Holy Grail being found?

“Okay, fine,” I turn to him. “Lay it on me.”

“If the rumors are true,” he starts, “then you’re related to a man who is supposedly the new Master Assassin, Desmond Miles. Now, that would mean that you have a long, illustrious lineage. This is because, before Desmond, there was Arno Dorian, a French-Austrian Master Assassin who was an orphan and blamed himself for his adoptive father’s death. Rumor has it that he joined the Brotherhood to redeem himself and to find answers. And, before him, there was Connor Kenway, a half-British-half-Mohawk Assassin from the time of the American Revolution.

“He was the son of an Assassin-turned-Templar, Haythem Kenway, but followed in the footsteps of his grandfather as an Assassin. Edward Kenway, his grandfather, was an entirely different type of Assassin, though. Edward was an Assassin, but he was also a pirate. Captain of the Jackdaw pirate ship that sailed with a black flag marked with the symbol of the Brotherhood: an “a”-like shape without the middle line and with a curve at the bottom.

“Before Edward, however, there was another, greater Assassin in your lineage: Ezio Auditore de’ Firenze! He was the Italian Master Assassin responsible for rebuilding the Brotherhood and expanding the recruiting spectrum, thereby giving the Assassins a new edge. Besides his predecessor, he was known as one of the greatest Master Assassins in all of their history. But, like I said, his predecessor was greater than Ezio.

“Altair Ibn La’Ahad was the first recorded and greatest Master Assassin ever known. The original Assassin from the days of the Crusade, Altair made many advancements in their society. New armor, new weapons, even a new way to test new Assassins that, as rumor states, is still used today.”

“And you know this how,” I question.

“I just filled in the rumors where the fats just dropped off,” Otis responds. “Besides, I made it my point to know about your mother’s lineage.”

“Really, Uncle Otis,” I jab at him.

“That’s not the point, Vladimir,” he looks straight into my eyes. “The point is, if all of this is true, then this opens a new opportunity for you and a chance for revenge!”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, he had my full attention. Revenge was a very good idea about now. After all, this Templar took the last thing that truly mattered to me besides Otis. And, according to Otis, I already had the bloodline and lineage to become an Assassin. It all made such perfect sense now.

“How do I find them,” I ask him, determined to go through with this.

“Just follow your instincts, I guess,” he answers. “Nobody outside of the Assassins themselves knows how to find them. Sometimes, they actually find you, first.”

“Thanks, Otis,” I say. “And, thank you for being here for Snow. It means a lot to me.”

“My pleasure, Vladimir,” he hugs me. “Good luck.”

With that, he walks off back to his car. As he does, I stand there and ponder what exactly he meant by following my instincts. Even then, this is all on the assumption that he’s right! What if I’m not meant to be an Assassin? What if I’m not even related to those men he mentioned? What if this Brotherhood doesn’t even exist?

Without thinking, I start walking, letting my feet go wherever they feel like going. I don’t pay much attention to where I’m going, other than the fact that I’m getting farther away from the site of the pyre. As I stop thinking about all that Otis told me, the pain of losing Snow settles in again and I start mourning over her all over again. Then, the thought of why my powers didn’t work on the Templar, even though they work on everyone, including other vampires?

I finally drag myself out of these thoughts, not wanting to stress it any more. I look around to see where I’m at and I realize that I’m way farther than I realized! I’m in the low-res district of the city, which is miles away from the college. I don’t even remember how I got here, but I know I don’t want to stick around.

I turn to leave when I notice something. Above one of the doors to one of the abandoned buildings is a symbol that looks a lot like the one Otis described to me earlier. I close my eyes for a second to clear my head and then, upon opening them, start wishing I’d kept them closed.

I start seeing things in a kind of bluish way, but I also see thing that I couldn’t see before. The symbol is now crystal clear, as is the door it’s meant to mark! I close my eyes and open them again, and everything is back to normal. I start to doubt my sanity around this point. And when I doubt my sanity, I do some stupid things to prove myself sane.

I walk over to the area where the door was and move the junk from in front of it. There, staring right in my face, is the very same door. At this point, I’m debating between a new power, coincidence, or something else. And I’m seriously leaning towards “something else”.

I approach the door cautiously, not knowing what to expect. I mean, strange hidden door in a dark alley in a bad end of town doesn’t exactly scream “welcome”. In my experience, it’s always best to play things safe.

“What are you doing here,” a voice rings out behind me.

I turn to see a girl standing there in a white trench coat with a hood over her face. I can’t see her face, but with her figure, you know it’s not a guy. That and a high-pitched, feminine voice kinda sums it all up. Another thing I notice is she’s strapped down with weapons! A sword, gun, throwing knives, a bow complete with a full quiver of arrows, and a set of weird bracer-looking things on her wrists.

“Sorry,” I say to her. “I was out walking and I got a little turned around. I noticed this door and thought I could ask somebody for help.”

“Nobody just ‘notices’ that door, nimrod,” she snaps. Flicking one of her wrists, a blade pops out of the bracer and she holds it to my throat. “Now tell me who you really are!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” I urge her. “My name is Vladimir Tod.”

“Vladimir Tod? As in Melina Tod’s son? Nephew of Desmond Miles?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I stammer out, confused as all get out.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl says, sliding the blade back into its bracer simply by bending her wrist again. She steps back and takes her hood off, revealing that she has a very pretty face framed by black hair with astonishing green eyes. Just like Snow. “My name is Alice Snyder,” she introduces herself, extending her hand to me.

I shake it in respect, and so she doesn’t slit my throat. Being immortal is okay, but when someone tries to kill you, it still hurts. Just saying, you know?

“Here, let me let you in,” she says, opening the door. “Your uncle’s been waiting a long time for this.”

Even more confused, I thank her and slip inside. From there I follow a narrow, winding corridor. I don’t know where it’s supposed to lead, but it’s the only path there is. The only light on this path I the light of various torches along the wall. The floors, walls, and ceiling are all dirty and grey, and very claustrophobic.

At the end of the corridor, I see a huge chamber. In the chamber is a very high wall-like circle of seats with the same symbol engraved into the stone. Each seat is occupied by a person in a white robe with a hood over their heads. All except one.

In the center of the men, there sits a man who could be an older version of me with a tan, short hair that’s nearly as long as mine, dark eyes, and scar on his lip. He sits with an air around him that commands respect and radiates authority. This guy is obviously the head-honcho. And he’s smiling down at me.

“Vladimir,” he says. “It is so good to finally meet you. You have your mother’s eyes.”

“So I’ve heard,” I respond.

“And you’ve got a fiery spirit. A good quality to have,” he says as he stands up. “My name is Desmond Miles, your mother’s brother and the Master Assassin of the Assassin Brotherhood. But, I’m guessing you knew that?”

In truth, I did know it. And it wasn’t because of my abilities as the Pravus. It was something else entirely. Something much older than them, actually. Something I couldn’t explain, and that’s a rare list these days.

“What brought you here, Vladimir Tod,” Desmond demands.

“I-,” I try to say something, but I don’t even know why I’m here. But then, it hits me. Otis said a Templar killed Snow. He also said Assassins kill Templars. “I want to become an Assassin!”

A smile spreads across his face. “The path of the Assassin is a dangerous and difficult one, my nephew. It is fraught with perilous tasks. It is the Eagle’s Path, Vladimir. To soar higher than others and to help fight and achieve freedom. By choosing this path, you must abandon your past life. This includes your powers, Vladimir.”

“You know about my powers!?” I exclaim.

“Yes,” he calmly replies. “We’ve been watching you for quite some time now. We know about you, your father and all you’ve been through. We are not asking you to remove your vampire blood. Just your Pravus powers. By doing so you will begin your training and take your first step on your new journey. Vladimir… Are you ready to walk the Eagle’s path?”

I think about this for a moment. On one hand, I’d have to give up my powers. That includes my invulnerability! Putting me at risk of death. On the other, I’d be joining the Assassin Brotherhood and be able to avenge Snow. And Snow has always been more important.

“How do we begin,” I ask him, dedicating myself to the Eagle’s Path and the Brotherhood.