Chapter 45: Forty-five, Assassin League Signature Skills
"Where's Callum?"
"He's gone back."
"Oh?"
Late at night in Manhattan Harbor, the wind blew strong.
Locke glanced at Rosa, who approached alone, heard her words, looked up at the golden eagle circling above, and then back at Rosa. "Just an hour ago I was at the Continental Hotel. The quick exit seems a bit too much."
Typical.
As soon as he agreed to join, they scattered.
Locke wondered if committing to this long-term mission was a mistake.
Rosa explained, "Callum had urgent matters."
Locke shifted his gaze from the eagle above to Rosa. "We're comrades, Rosa!"
She smiled faintly. "Alright, but can I at least know your name?"
"No."
"..."
It was mere cooperation, devoid of trust. How long could Locke, the unmatched assassin, conceal his identity? He mused, "Let's be frank. You're not here just for me."
That was Locke's suspicion en route.
If Callum and company had no designs on him, they wouldn't have come to New York. They'd have watched from the shadows. Did they want to misuse the golden apple and flee? Unlikely.
Death awaited such folly.
But...
Dying now or later made a big difference.
Plus, Locke recalled intel from the black market after accepting their offer: "You were expelled from Rome by that mysterious organization."
"Yes."
Rosa hesitated.
It made sense.
Before, Locke was an outsider. He knew less of the assassin's world than he did of SHIELD, particularly the Brotherhood. Until New York's branch fell, he'd been unaware of its widespread presence.
Most critically, the New York chapter morphed into a mercenary group, a far cry from its founding principles. Like others, they were adapting to a new era.
Rosa started to speak.
Locke interrupted, "Since I've joined, tell me about our Brotherhood's status. I don't expect your help, nor will I offer mine. But who knows what the future holds?"
Rosa met Locke's gaze, paused, and sighed. "Alright. Yesterday's five, plus those in Europe, leave us about a dozen."
Locke blinked.
Typical.
Rosa continued, grave, "The Roman Brotherhood lingers, yet nameless, reduced to a mercenary guild. Lynch and I returned hoping to restore its old rules, only to face unprecedented resistance."
"And it won't cease."
"What?"
"Is the golden apple in your hands?"
"Yes."
"That same organization covets your golden apple?"
Rosa met Locke's eyes and nodded. "Yes."
They'd crossed paths with that fighter plane, left with no doubt it was the rebranded Knights Templar.
Locke smirked.
Typical SHIELD: respect for private property meant nothing.
Chin in hand, he pondered, "Did you catch wind of the New York Brotherhood's collapse and plan to rebuild the real Brotherhood?"
"Yes."
Rosa nodded.
No need to hide now. Future exposure was guaranteed. "Moreover, all our extraordinary skills are scattered. Yours is the only Brotherhood mastering Spear Throwing: the quintessential Assassin skill."
Locke nodded.
Just now, they swapped Spear Throwing and Falcon Training.
Yet true Brotherhood skills were Eagle Training and Stealth: one, a vision-empowered eagle; the other, mastery of concealment.
Locke was pleased with the trade.
Except, emptying his potential points to unlock Falconry and Stealth was a tough blow.
The eagle was a topic for another day.
"One last thing."
Locke eyed the night sky, heading for an early bedtime. "What did Callum venture out for? You know I could find out."
Rosa turned. Locke halted ten steps later, face impassive. "Since we're settling in New York, he'll bring his son and daughter."
Locke blinked. "Wait."
Callum had kids?
Who?
Wanda and Quicksilver?
Pfft.
Impossible.
Wanda and Pietro's father was Magneto, and though Callum aspired to Magneto's radical idealism, they were different—beyond mere looks and personality.
Locke raised a brow. "Callum has a son and daughter. How old?"
Rosa shrugged. "Sixteen, like your young friend."
"No way."
In Rome, Callum planned to bring his kids near. A death-row inmate once, he'd awakened ancient assassin skills—self-defense against The Organization and remnants of the Knights Templar.
Now?
Rebuilding in New York, Callum eyed his kids. Native to the Brotherhood, why keep them out?
Star Building.
Locke showered, donned pajamas, ready for bed.
Callum wasn't Magneto; his daughter wasn't Wanda. Why obsess?
"Ding!"
"Name: Locke Broughton (sole player)"
"Achievement Points: 1.05W (for items in Achievement Mall)"
"Potential Points: 200 (to upgrade skills)"
"Supreme Talent: Extraordinary (Golden, Level 1): Boundless energy, incomparable strength!"
"Extraordinary Talent: Tenacity (Level 2): Endure more, recover faster (Level 3 needs 40,000 PP)."
"Extraordinary Skill: Spear Throwing (Advanced): Peerless marksmanship! (Upgrade to Red requires 20,000 PP)."
"Extraordinary Skill: Falconry (Basic): Now an Assassin, not a gun-toting killer."
"Extraordinary Skill: Stealth (Basic): Not true invisibility, but high-level trickery."
...
Though it depleted potential points, trading two extraordinary skills was worth it.
Missions awaited; he'd collect more points.