The localized anesthetic had sapped the Preacher's strength; he clung to the stair railing, struggling to descend, each step an agony.
He was a Knight Templar, but not a fanatic.
His mission was to kill a Brotherhood assassin who had just awakened from a distant era, but he underestimated the rare and unfailing assassin.
He finally crawled to the second-floor landing, where an old man in a wheelchair appeared before him.
The old man stared at him blankly.
The Preacher didn't care; he continued down, gripping the railing, unsure if the assassin could find him, but his identity might be exposed, and this was no place to linger.
Pat, pat, pat, footsteps suddenly echoed from above.
The Preacher's heart sank, and he looked at the old man before him, a sudden idea striking him.
When Jack found the Preacher, the Preacher was holding a cross to the old man's neck.
"I know your creed, let me go, Assassin."
Jack looked down from above, gripping the syringes tightly.
Letting him go would mean the Animus couldn't awaken, but letting an innocent bystander die... that would violate his creed.
He hadn't expected that single dose of anesthetic wouldn't completely incapacitate the Preacher.
The Knights Templar also possessed tempering techniques similar to the Brotherhood.
However, just as Jack was caught between a rock and a hard place, the old man in the wheelchair suddenly looked up, his vacant eyes gaining some focus, and he slightly parted his lips as if speaking to Jack.
"Nothing is true..."
It was like warm Water poured onto a cold heart.
"Everything is permitted." Jack opened his mouth, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.
Pfft!
A red light flashed in the old man's eyes, and he suddenly thrust a sharp object upwards; the scalpel directly pierced the Preacher's chin, blood instantly gushing out.
The Preacher's face was filled with horror, his body suddenly stiff as a withered tree; he looked down in disbelief at the fluffy White hair.
The old man pushed the Preacher's corpse away: "What do you need, Assassin?"
Jack walked down the stairs, revealing the syringe in his hand.
"Assassin, they arrived earlier than you; when you were weak, you needed to hide." The old man pulled out an emergency medical kit from under the wheelchair, then took out two syringes and replaced Jack's empty ones.
"I left something for you at 221a Baker Street." The old man then pulled a block-shaped crystal from his pocket: a 'data block'.
He placed it in Jack's hand.
"What about you?"
"I have completed my mission, Assassin; the rest is up to you." The old man sat in his wheelchair, his body suddenly aching, but he had long grown accustomed to it: "Tell me his name, and I will give you his blood, remember my name: Connor Kenway."
He had lived for nearly a hundred years, and his mission was over.
Jack nodded slightly, returning to the third floor under Connor's gaze.
The lights flickered.
"Assassin, congratulations on completing the mission." The Animus prompted Jack to return to bed.
"Search data, Connor Kenway."
"Data cannot be synchronized, but I found something in the Assassin's files: he was born in 1756, his mother was a Native American, his adoptive father was Achilles, he traveled among the villages protecting his homeland, but lost contact with the Brotherhood completely in his twenties, perhaps... you can find his story in his relics."
"Jack, your physical examination results are in." The Nurse eagerly walked into the ward and placed a stack of documents on Jack's bedside table.
"You're so lucky; even after ten years of slumber, your body is still healthy." Most people who are unconscious for a long time experience muscle atrophy, but Jack's physical examination results were all excellent.
Jack glanced at the closed medical kit and asked, "When can I be discharged?"
"Not for a while, and... and where would you go after discharge? No one has visited you for a long time." The Nurse's voice was very soft; in the years she had been there, she had almost never seen anyone visit Jack.
Perhaps his family could no longer bear the long wait, or had already moved out of the city.
"Assassin, integrating data: currently in the United States in 1943, World War II is in a strategic stalemate, the United States is extensively conscripting to launch a full-scale attack on the Axis powers, the system's activation reason is that something called the Tesseract was stolen by the Knights Templar."
"Tesseract?"
"Analysis results show it is the Space Stone, one of the seven gems of this Universe." The Animus tried its best to find important data from the limited information.
"Unable to locate the Tesseract at present, system change, mission issued: find Dr. Erskine, try to obtain the 'Super Soldier' serum, or find out the whereabouts of the Tesseract. Mission reward: one skill point."
"You have one skill point, please load."
"Life Enhancement." The lethal methods from his bloodline ensured Jack would not lack offensive means in a short time, and because the data could not be synchronized, Jack felt it was better to lie low for now, hiding in the shadows awaiting a fatal blow.
The Nurse placed the food aside.
"Nurse, I need some clothes."
"For what?"
"I need to be discharged." Jack looked at the Nurse, his eyes revealing determination.
In the hospital, he would have no room for action; he urgently needed to leave here.
"It's not impossible, but according to my inquiries, your family seems to have left New York, and there are no means of communication." "You don't need to worry about that, I need to be discharged, Nurse."
Although Jack could leave without anyone knowing, he needed identification from the hospital.
"Do you have money for food?"
"My elder left me an inheritance."
The Nurse's eyes widened, what was going on?
"Please."
"Alright, Jack, I'll process your discharge as soon as possible." The Nurse still felt it was important to respect the patient's wishes and processed Jack's discharge papers and identification.
Wearing old clothes that the Nurse had somehow found, Jack walked into the metropolis of New York.
The roar of machinery, the whistle of steam trains, massive tall buildings, and circular clocks hanging on them.
As Jack passed an alley, he suddenly heard sounds of a fight inside.
"You just won't give up, will you?"
"I can last all day with you." The thin figure was completely obscured by the burly man, whose large fist landed on his face.
Bang!
A fair hand gripped the burly man's fist, stopping it completely in mid-air.
His fist couldn't be pulled free.
"What's your name?" Jack asked him.
The thin man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth: "Steve, Steve Rogers."