Assassin Creed Hero Novels & Stories

Her hand twitched as though she longed to reach for a weapon that wasn’t there. Marco noticed. He placed a hand over hers, firm and guarding. “Not here.” He murmured under the music, his voice a command more than a suggestion. Alessa inhaled sharply, her gaze flicking away. She hated this–the waiting, the pretending. She was an assassin by nature, trained to strike, not to sit beneath chandeliers while enemies smiled across from her.

And I was going with him. A Spartan warrior, tied directly to House Ares, on a secret mission involving assassins, monsters, and a weapon pulled from the very fabric of myth. The sheer, audacious insanity of it was breathtaking. We worked in the pre-dawn stillness, the tavern our sanctuary. While Hypatos checked and rechecked his gear, his movements economical and precise, I became the logistics expert I never knew I was. I pulled out old maps from beneath the floorboards, their creased parchment smelling of dust and forgotten journeys.

A female egyptian thief/anti-hero named Alariq (blessed with the powers of Anubis, Bast and Isis) and a thousand years old male Greek Hero named Nyx meet. What started as a fight for the artifact became a hot passionate sex between the two ******************* The alley's shadows swallowed Alariq as she taunted, "A Greek hero who can't outmaneuver a thief? How disappointing." Nyx's eyes all but glowed with a thousand years of memories and fierce intent.

She indeed came to settle some scores with me. "Ammy I can explain if you just let me." I tried calming her down; Ammy was one of the best Assassins the organization had ever trained. I mean, during the short period she worked for the organization, she was known for her masterful ways of killing her targets.v but believe me when I say she was a psycho, imagine giving a gun to a trigger freak. "I will fucking kill you, Kat," she said, pulling out a knife from behind her. Another thing about her is that she is creative when hiding her weapons.

He puffed deeply, inhaling the menthol smoke, which buzzed against the back of his throat. Stupid motherfuckers. All of them. Especially Deyquan, ragging on his terrorist theory. Like he knew any better. Such bullshit. Seriously. A girl dead in the bathroom, drowned in a fucking sink. Who did that? Not your average psycho-serial killer. That was straight-up, hardcore assassin shit. Like stabbing someone’s brain through their eye with a pen. Or strangling them with piano wire. He should know. He played Assassin’s Creed and Call of Duty and Splinter Cell, 24-7. He’d seen all the Jason Bourne movies, too.

She was smiling at him sheepishly, trying to look apologetic. “I’ll get right on this, sir,” she promised enthusiastically. “I’ll call you for any update.” Zach turned back his laptop towards him the minute his door closed. He erased the name of Damon on the search tab and this time type the word, Scepter, Marshall, and Worthington. He clicked enter and then waited for the results that their database can give him. He sat up straight when an interesting subject caught his eye at the database results. It contains an article pertaining to Scepter, an unknown and high-profile person of interest in the Middle East.

My heart raced, hand gripping the wall behind me. Red eyes stood behind him, a dagger glimmered in the moonlight. The light beam shone across the red eyes figure’s face. It’s lower part of his face covered by a black mask. The Assassin. “And I deserve to return to my prison, where Hades will send me to judgment,” Ir’ak let out a ragged breath. The dagger, once twinkling in the small light from the window, plunged into Ir’ak’s neck. His legs knees dropped into the carpet.

Gabriel said, “I didn’t much want to be alive. Ten years of waiting, not knowing if the pull would ever lead anywhere. So I found the most dangerous work I could.” She waited. “I was an assassin, Honor. A professional killer. I took contracts — targets — and I eliminated them. That was my life for the better part of a decade.” She stopped walking. He stopped too, hands in his pockets, and let her look at him. Let her take the time she needed to put it together, to decide what she thought of it. He’d learned enough about her to know that rushing her to a reaction she hadn’t fully formed would only make it worse.

The worse part was that he hadn't even stopped at just telling Dante to stop messing with his aunt, he even menaced to murder him. "We need to get you out of this city." Nate couldn't help but agree—that was not the avenue he wanted to continue upon this early in a new surrounding. "We need to get out now." "He could kill you, Nate." "I fucking know that Auntie, thanks." He snapped, annoyed that he hadn't been told all these things before even arriving to this city. He had never heard of anyone named Dante Hercules, his name sounded ridiculous anyway. Besides, he never even thought he would come across a mafia member, or an assassin, or a yakuza—honestly, all these terms were way too much fo

The game had a plethora of characters to choose from: Warrior, Mage, Knight, Healer, and many more. Uji Quin chose the Assassin class once he got into the game, and spectators of the match frowned. The Assassin was capable of killing a player for every 10 steps it took; no one could survive the lethality. With the character’s agility and speed, one move would be able to empty his enemy’s health bar. Perhaps it was over for Charmine. How could she win?