#iyl

“Welcome to Jerusalem, 47.” Diana Burnwood’s voice stated through Agent 47’s earpiece. He stood as usually taciturn and obedient, analysing his surroundings. On the expanse of his head laid a kippah, donned as a distraction, out of place compared to the crisp black suit barely matching it.

But then, men of Jewish descent had no set appearance, so no one would question him too much. Not when he was in the holiest city of them all.

“Before you, you see the building of The Knesset, which holds the unicameral legislative branch of the Israeli government. Naturally, a restless country like this one has a fair bit of security around its political buildings. Despite its youth, this land holds secrets, one of them going by the name of Ewald Cohen. A powerful Jewish man, currently seeking aid for a wicked plan dabbling into force-migration. Long story short, he pleas for a Palestinian removal act. Our client wants him out of business, as to be expected. And so, it shall be done. Good luck, 47. And remember, I know it’s unlike you, but no unnecessary blood, especially not in there. It would mean a lockdown of the city, and the last thing we need is ourselves blowing our own cover.”

Agent 47 let his icy eyes take in every inch of the building before him – yellow brick, like a large box placed in the middle of a city, yet it had something of a temple – something ancient, like Jerusalem itself. He was not one for pretty architecture, though found interest in knowing how to get in – and out.

The way he looked now, he knew there would be no way that he could get past security without being frisked – if he took the main entrance, that was. Metal-detecting gates would be too troublesome at the moment. And without the correct papers, he wouldn’t get past the front desk, not with all those guards around.

The first thing one would notice was the plenty presence of soldiers, standing on watch. Judging by the stance of one of the younger men, 47 deduced that the change might soon be there. He should take advantage of it, knock one of them out and don a disguise. In the crowd, he’d be hardly noticed.

Deciding it the best approach, he made his way to a more secluded area, successfully knocking out a guard after distracting him, and put on his uniform. He discarded of his suit and the kippah by stuffing them into the stranger’s backpack, hiding the unconscious body of the soldier in the shrubbery. 47 brought the backpack with him, going forth.

In the distance, doors opened. Right in time, he thought to himself, creeping back to the place where the guard had stood. A new row of guards went up to the ones standing at the gates, freshly uniformed and without dark circles under their eyes, like the ones that the men at the gate had been sporting.

A wordless exchange, 47 mimicked his temporary peers with a gesture to the side of the head, saluting them. One of them raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the piercing blue eyes meeting his.

But then, the IDF stood never still in the stream of new guards, with drafted soldiers in their late teenage years obligated to serve a short time. There would be new recruits every time of day, so there lingered no long suspicion.

He followed them inside, proceeding through the halls until they stopped at what seemed like a canteen. It had never been so easy to march into such an important building with an automatic weapon in hand.

“I hadn’t noticed you taking over Adam’s shift.”

Agent 47 had already taken off the boots he had been wearing - a size too small - when he noticed that he was being spoken to. Before him stood a young man, no older than twenty-five, a toothpick between his chapped lips.

“Oh, yes. Adam felt ill so I was sent to take his place.”

“I don’t recognise you.”

“I haven’t been here for long.”

“You don’t seem to be drafted, either. What’s a man of your age doing in the lowest rank?”

47 sighed, feigning exhaustion. “Listen, yadid. I’ve been standing all day and I’m tired.”

The young man let out a scoff. “I’m not your friend, old man. Well then, guess your age is getting the better of you. Have fun returning home with your walking stick.”

“Shlomo!” a man of higher status called, sending him a warning glare. “Stop picking on our new recruits.”

With a shake of his head, the young soldier named Shlomo, so it seemed, stalked off.

Agent 47 was soon done dressing himself, hiding his pistol in the safety of his suit. He arose and set to the exit, pushing way through the business of the canteen, ignoring cheers to stay a bit longer, and was soon standing in the main hall.

A trained hitman like him had no trouble in making his way to the conference room. Diana stated through his earpiece that it would be plausible that the target would be roaming around there, for she had figured out that his so called bill of Palestinian removal was moving up in the list of cases to be discussed.

47 moved stealthily through the halls, successfully knocking out every burden in his way. He remembered what Diana had said – no unnecessary damage, just Mr Cohen. This city was desired and dangerous, and he knew. Any other important politicians meeting their end would mean disaster. Not that 47 ever caused collateral damage, anyway, unless utterly necessary.

A waft of the smell of blood pricked in his nose when he turned the corner, immediately pressing himself against the wall to eventually stay out of someone’s line of sight. Silence, but the scent was there, and he was certain that it didn’t come from his own doing.

“Tread carefully, 47.” he heard through his earpiece, his handler noticing as well that something was off. The smell, the eerie silence, almost as unnatural as 47’s own movements, stiff and overly calculated.

Something was not right. The air was denser than usual, for where he was usually the threat, he experienced uneasiness, like he was in danger as well.

It was a feeling unfamiliar to him – what was causing him such a notion?

Then, noise from the room where he was creeping next to.

He proceeded on through the hall, momentarily focussing on what was going on in the adjacent room. Noise, albeit stifled. A whimper, though muffled, so it seemed. Footsteps… He pressed himself against the wall a bit tighter, trying to listen in on what was going on in the main room.

A soft rustle of fabric whilst someone slipped through the heavy doors at the end of the hallway, closing them as quietly as they could.

Clad in dark, supple cotton and leather, hooded, a pine-green sash hanging over one of their shoulders. The insignia on the fabric was immediately recognisable. From under the hood, a pair of piercing eyes shimmered as they moved to look behind them, alarmed by his proximity.

Agent 47 moved instantly, alerted by their presence. This had never happened before, despite the feud he had sometimes heard about. Now that he encountered one of them for himself, things ought to get clearer. He didn’t hesitate to draw his gun, silencer tightly screwed onto the front.

The stranger had noticed him, too. A small, silver handgun laid in a gloved hand, barrel pointed right at him.

“Well, well…” the figure stated, female, judging by the sound and pitch. “How interesting. A hitman and an Assassin walk into a foreign parliament building. Says one to the other—”

“Who are you?” 47 interrupted, making the Assassin chuckle.

“No, you’re ruining my joke. Says one to the other—”

Agent 47 clicked the safety off of his gun. “I asked you something.”

She stepped closer, the sound of her thigh-high boots muffled against the carpet. “Let me counter that question, sir .” Her voice was thick with disdain. “You work for the ICA, do you not? Actually, don’t answer that question, I know you do.”

She halted in front of him, their guns still aimed at each other. She sniffed nonchalantly. “Do you see this insignia, sir?” She pointed at the buckle on her belt, then the one on the gauntlet around her arm. Its blade was stained with fresh blood.

“The Brotherhood of Assassins.” 47 said.

“Correct. Listen, sir. I know what you’re here for, but I suggest that you walk straight out of that door. I arrived here first. Deed’s already done.”

Agent 47 held his stoic expression, unfazed by the gun aiming at him. It wasn’t like his opponent was scared, either.

“Who is your contract?” he asked her.

“Does it matter? Whoever you’re after, they’re dead. Get out, before I stain the carpet unnecessarily. Would be a shame if your pretty eyes were to be closed forever, too. Poor Mr Rosenthal didn’t know what was coming to him. He had nice eyes as well. They’re dull, now.”

47 pressed the barrel of his silencer against her forehead. With a gentle nudge, he forced the hood off her head. It revealed the female Assassin to be younger than him, (h/c) hair conveniently pulled back into a braid.

“Shoot me, then. It would be unwise, though. The world lacks good Assassins.”

It was almost sickening, the way this woman lacked fear of death despite being so intimately involved with it. She spread her arms, dropping her gun to the ground. “Go on.” she pressed.

Agent 47 narrowed his eyes. Why wouldn’t he? Her (h/c) hair framed her taunting face, a wicked smirk spreading over her lips. “You’re hesitating…” She pressed her forehead a bit firmer against the gun. “Why… Are you… Hesitating…?” Her voice had become a whisper.

Agent 47 tilted his head slightly, taking her in completely, trying to calculate her next move. The odds were all against her, so why was she so cocky? Her (e/c) eyes shimmered in the dim light of the spots mounted on the wall, playful almost, careless.

“I thought your Brotherhood trained more capable Assassins.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m the best one they have, mind you.”

“Hence the way you act.”

She let out a chuckle and pursed her lips slightly. “Oh, alright… I know when I can take risks. Really, mister. I suggest you turn around and walk out that door, because I am not afraid of you.”

Slowly, he lowered the barrel of his gun. Gaze fixated upon her still, he took a step back. He towered well above her, yet she knew no fear of death. Quite the contrary, she laughed it in its face.

Agent 47 sighed, gesturing at the door leading away from him. “Get out now and I’ll let you live.”

The Assassin remained nailed to the ground, hands folded on her back now, staring at him unfazed.

“It’s officially against the rules to kill people who aren’t involved with the target.” he dryly stated,

“Let me guess. The unofficial version is a lot bloodier?”

“No one will question my disposal of one of a rival organisation’s puppets.”

“Says the man working for the ICA. If there’s a puppet here, it’s you.”

For a split second, it threw him off-guard, something that had never happened before – but now it did, and before he could bash the back of his gun against her temple to knock her out, he was blinded by thick, grey smoke. He coughed, disoriented, staggering backwards as a light laugh echoed through the halls, just as taunting as her gaze had been.

“Too late…” she sang, “Sorry, should’ve pulled the trigger. By the way, you aren’t the only one with rules like those. The reason why I let you live. Don’t forget to close the door after you leave, sir. It would be disastrous for the electricity bill.” The sound of her boots was faintly audible, and when the smoke died down, 47 remained on his own, opting to not go after her.

He straightened his tie, sighed deeply, and proceeded to push on through his mission.

“What can you tell me about her?” he quizzed Diana when he was about to push open the doors.

“She comes from the Brotherhood of Assassins. I believe she’s from the (L/n) bloodline. The ICA has encountered them more than once. Truly dangerous, those ones. I suggest you keep an eye out, 47. You never know who lingers in the shadows.”

He wrapped his gloved hand against the handle of the door, holding his gun close as he pushed it open.

“Didn’t she mention a contract named Rosenthal? Who was that target?”

“Yes, she must’ve mistakenly thought that your contract was on his head, as well. No, Ser Isaac Rosenthal is – or was, in better terms now - a Templar mole infiltrating the Israeli government. Turns out, they have found out his true identity. As you know, the Templars are the sworn enemies of the Brotherhood of Assassins. Focus on the matter at hand, 47. You should hurry now, before people come looking at what’s going on.”

The stench of blood became even more pungent when 47 pushed on through the heavy doors, being met with several dead bodies, adorned with red slits on their throats. Carefully, he stepped over the corpses, identifying them one by one.

“None of them is Cohen.”

“That means that she hasn’t stolen our kill. That precludes further feud along this path. So, I suggest you make haste. This is taking way longer than it should and people will catch up.”

The agent walked out of the room again, seeing no other exit than the one where he entered. He went to the large hallway again, trying to blend in as well as he could. Where he had left his soldier’s disguise to be in the hallway right in the army’s canteen, he now chose the façade of a rich businessman.

Scanning the crowd, he tried to find Ewald Cohen. It wouldn’t be too difficult, for the man’s bulky build could hardly be missed. Somewhere in the back of the building, he could hear people panicking, presumably caused by the finding of five dead men.

“Find him, 47, and be quick.” Diana spurred on before the line quieted again.

It took a few minutes to find Cohen’s office, where said man was dictating a letter to his secretary. The young woman penned along rapidly, frightened to lose her job if she didn’t.

“…However, where the amendment of freedom lay, I must counter that we are a state of sovereignty and thus allowed to proceed with removing… Hey, what was that?”

The clink of the coin 47 had tossed onto the tiles pulled him out of his speech. “Go look.” he ordered his secretary, sighing as she stalked off to check out the noise. Cohen sat in his chair, folding his hands on his large stomach. His chair creaked dangerously and the man seemed out of breath from just walking.

With an aim like no other, 47 pointed his gun at the hook of the painting that hung on the wall above Cohen’s desk. He took his shot – the hook broke and the large canvas fell onto the bookcase below with a dry thud.

Ewald looked behind him, eyes widening at the sight of the canvas toppling over, crashing down on top of him. The chair creaked under the unfamiliar pressure, finally giving out. Cohen fell from his seat, landed on his butt and thus, cracked his spine. The weight of the painting suffocated him, killing him in mere seconds.

The secretary returned richer a penny – the sound that left her throat proved imminent doom. Silently, the Agent who just successfully killed his target slipped out of the room, away from possible suspicion.

“Ewald Cohen is eliminated. Good work 47. Now, proceed to leave the building, and make sure that you aren’t caught.”

47 frowned, unsure of why Diana would add such a thing after her sentence. She never told him to watch out after an elimination, trusting him to be discreet as always.

He slinked up a few flights of stairs, trying to act natural whenever he passed by some people. His strangely stiff composure would give him away one day.

The door to the rooftop wasn’t too hard to find, marked with a unevenly blinking exit-sign right above. He went through it, hearing it click in its lock behind him. Upon stretching his shoulders to prepare himself for his climb down, a voice behind him spoke;

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Agent 47 had his hand on his gun right away, aiming it at the source of the disturbance. There she stood again, unfazed by the threat of death, (h/c) locks blowing in the wind. The light of the lowering sun cast a curious hue over the odd scene.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” she clarified.

“I am aiming my gun at you right now.”

“That’s beside the point. You didn’t do it before, and that’s interesting.”

47 took off the safety. “I should have.”

The woman smiled, her eyes shimmering with amusement. “Oh, please. There’s no suspense. No build-up leading to an all-concluding finale. No stand-off, no time-pressure.”

Diana’s voice interrupted the Assassin’s monologue. “What is taking you so long? A car is waiting for you.”

“I’ve ran into a bit of trouble. I’ll be right there.”

The woman scoffed, smirking. “A bit of trouble, you say? Is that all I am to you? I am offended… Thoroughly.”

“The rival Assassin…” Diana deduced, “Let her be. We don’t need another war right now for the world’s sake.”

He lowered his gun at Ms. Burnwood’s command.

“What is your name?” Assassin (L/n) asked him.

“Names are for friends.”

She stepped closer, once again halting at an arm's-length away from him.

“In that case, my name is (Y/n) (L/n).”

She held out her hand, waiting for 47 to shake it.

He eyed it, and then took it, unsure of what to respond.

“So, what’s your name?” she repeated.

“I don’t see why that is any of your business.”

Diana grew impatient. “Will you hurry?” she rarely lost her composure like that – perhaps it was the sudden appearance of the Brotherhood of Assassins.

Agent 47 just kept standing like he did, releasing her hand, frozen in place.

“Whatever your name is, I have a message for you.”

(Y/n) leaned closer, decreasing the volume of her voice to a whisper. “You’re in my country now. This is my city, these are my streets, and whatever Templar activity you’re involved in, I will shut down personally. The ICA claims neutrality, but I know better. You shouldn’t mess with the Brotherhood of Assassins, agent.”

She deeply inhaled, looking him in the eye. “If I see you once more, I will kill you.”

(Y/n) stepped back slowly, and then a bit quicker. “Hope we’ll never run into each other again.”

She ran to the end of the building, flinging herself off the side, gloved fingers soon gripping the edge, disappearing out of sight.

He clenched the gloved hand she had shaken into a fist, whispering a reply. “Likewise, Miss (L/n). That fate will do all to prevent that from happening.”

He was unsure of why he said that, for it could be taken two ways – that fate would prevent them from meeting again, or that it would prevent her statement from coming true.

Whatever it was and whatever caused the foreign twist in his stomach, he knew that he had to move again soon before Diana would call again and cause a scene at his unusual tardiness.

Characters

Pinewood Island features a wide cast of characters, all of who have their own unique design. The character design is appropriate to the style of the game, and the individual identities of characters are not lost in the tension of the story. To go into detail about each of them would take ages, but trust that they’re swell, and that they feel like people you’ve met before.

Delilah, the MC, is not a blank slate. She has her own characterization and is pretty likable. The choices the player makes dictate her reactions to situations and impact her relationships with other characters in a meaningful, authentic way.

Learning about the characters, seeing their personalities shine, and figuring out how to help them were satisfying experiences. The side-stories that contribute to the varying endings that make this game worth replaying.

Routes

Left to right: Ray, Carl, Matt

Each route has a number of endings, differing based on a number of factors including (but not limited to) affection level with your boy, what you figured out about the killer, whether you decided to accuse someone of the murder, and the manner in which you handle conversations with other characters. 

Art/Design

The backgrounds and scenery are lovely and plentiful and shift with time of day. Good choices for imagery. Character sprites are crisp and colorful. CG moments are appropriate to their timing in the story. Art quality and style are consistent throughout the game. GUI is visually appealing and suits the dark theme of the story.

Sound is appropriate for the tone, albeit a bit repetitive at points. Playing with sound off often made it more ominous. The game does not feature voice acting, so if that’s a “must” for you, you’re going to be disappointed. 

There are a limited amount of CGs at a total of 16 across all routes and endings. Each boy gets 4 CGs, and there’s 1 for each of a few... unfortunate events.

Writing

The actual story of the game never fully gets lost to the romancing of cute boys. The “voices” of each character read as authentic. The tension of the plot doesn’t suffocate the characters, and instead tests certain aspects of their personalities.

My big criticism for this game’s writing is the pacing. It’s easy to notice where the issues are because for 90%+ of the game the pacing is spot-on. The four weeks spent on the island flow naturally and feel right. As it so often goes, it was the endings that messed with the immersion. They are so abrupt that it feels like it kicks you in the face out of nowhere. There were interesting threads pulled up in some of them, but you can get the gist of what happens from the snippets that are there.

There are short epilogues to the story content, giving a description of life after the ending. Some of these epilogues have small bits of narrative, whereas others have overview. The style is less consistent than the rest of the writing in the game, and the way they’re written pulled me out of it. 

The Other endings, where the player can earn the 4 Other CGs, seem to come out of nowhere. They have little information with them, but you can see the foreshadowing if you pay attention and make the wrong choices. 

That said, the variety of the endings is a treat. Each boy has at least 6, and there are multiple loveless routes. Factors that play into endings are sprinkled throughout the story. Unexciting daily choices influence the outcome from start to finish. The choices made in the last 5 minutes can impact the ending, as well, which was a great change of pace from being locked into a good/bad/NTR from a midpoint in the game.

Overall Opinion

I received Pinewood Island as a gift during the Steam Winter Sale 2018, and my cousin’s money was not wasted. I had a great time and made it a point to 100% it to see what each of the possible outcomes were. I wish we got a little more from each of the endings, but their length and level of detail didn’t ruin the rest of the game for me. I’m impressed with the depth of the decision-making tree and branching paths. I’m actually impressed with the game as a whole. 

In case you’re wondering, my favorite routes were Ray’s because of the variety of potential endings, the significance of each decision, and the way it concluded if things went well.

Four weeks later

 The white noise of the lights around buzzed in your ears.

Sebastian walked up to you, cup of tea in hand.

“Here.” he said, placing it onto the table, the teaspoon resting in it rattling at the movement.

You sighed, leaning back, putting down the small pieces of equipment you were holding. Instead, you wrapped your arms around the hot mug, relishing in the sweet smell that came from the herbal beverage. You never took your tea with sugar, but opted to not tell him.

“Thank you.” you mused, smiling at him whilst bringing the cup up to blow into it, cooling it down just slightly. “Where would I be without you?”

Sebastian scratched his beard and smiled. “Well, for beginners, you wouldn’t be in sunny Jerusalem if it weren’t for my lead on a Piece of Eden.”

“That’s my lead, too!” sounded from the other side of the room, followed by a crumpled piece of paper being thrown at Seb’s head.

“Oi! Yeah, I get it, Miranda.”

“Sunny Jerusalem, you say?” you countered playfully, bending over your work again. “Then tell me, why are we hidden several floors underground instead of floating on the Dead Sea? I could’ve stayed in Tel Aviv to do more research there.”

Sebastian perched himself on top of the table you were working on, taking a swig of his coffee.

“Oh, come on (Y/n). You love Jerusalem. No-one who knows the city as well as you do. You’re only glad to be back.”

A large grin spread over your face, knowing he was right.

“(Y/n), take a look at this.” Miranda appeared at your side, handing you a yellowed folder.

“What’s this?”

“Information about your new target. Azra El-Sharani. A dangerous woman, mind you. She might seem harmless, but according to our spies, she killed her own husband. Templar ties? No doubt.”

You whistled through your teeth, flipping through the papers Miranda had so carefully compiled.

“I like a challenge from time to time.”

“This is not a game. Especially not here, on this soil. It’s drenched with blood of all kinds. Let’s not add too much to that, please.”

You tipped your chair back so you were leaning on its hind legs, balancing it just right.

“I know, Miranda.” you said. “I know this place like the back of my hand, but I know when to  not  strike. Thing is, if I don’t remind myself to have fun every once in a while, I might slip into madness. It’s not only what  makes  me the best at what I do – it  keeps  me that way, as well.”

Miranda nodded, her blonde curls bouncing at the movement of her head.

“Naturally. On with it.”

“Of course.” you replied. “I will let you know when I leave.”

As she walked off, the heels of her pumps clicking almost obnoxiously against the floor of the bunker, you leaned forward again, returning to your work. The acetone was sharp in its scent and stung in your nose, yet had evaporated in the time you had left it to dry. With practised ease, you re-assembled your bracer, clicking the blade back into place.

“You need to eat before you go.”

“Do I?” you asked your friend. “I believe I just had tea. With sugar, even though I never really take that in my hot drinks. That should give me enough energy for the rest of the day.”

Sebastian hopped off the table and followed you suit when you stood and made your way over to the exit. Grabbing your coat, you threw it over your shoulders. Despite it being your summer garment, it was immediately sticky against your bare skin.

“(Y/n), I am being serious. We can’t have you faint on us.”

“Being peckish keeps me sharp, Seb.” you explained, putting on the bracer. From the chest underneath the mirror hanging on the wall you took another gauntlet, this one equipped with built-in tranquilizer darts, which you could use should the need arise. You wished you had it on you on your previous contract the other day  – that rival hitman, of whom you didn’t know the name. 

He had crossed your mind more than once this month.

You shuddered, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the aversion you felt towards the ICA or the vivid memory of his  impossibly blue eyes.

“Are you sure you’ve read the file well enough? We could go through it together while enjoying some sandwiches? I could get you some falafel, too? Or something sweet… Babka?” Sebastian tried.

You sighed, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Time is of the essence and there is no way that I can wait any longer. Jerusalem is waiting to be rid of her Templars. My absence has made the lower ranks lazy.”

Sebastian let his shoulders hang, knowing that there was no use in pressuring you any further.

“Alright.” he said, “Enjoy your surroundings. Many people would be jealous of you, regarding your whereabouts, I mean.”

You laughed a little at the IT-manager. “Oh, Sebastian. No one should be jealous of me in any regard. Anyway, isn’t your break over already?”

Sebastian checked his watch, hiding the expression of shock on his face. “Shit, I’m five minutes late. Never mind, I’m the manager after all. Good luck on your endeavours, now.”

You nodded and folded your hands on your back, watching him trot away, a certain spring in his step he always had whenever he was late.

Before you left the premises of your quarters, you dropped by Miranda, just as she had asked of you. However, when you turned the corner, you ran straight into her, almost colliding against her shocked face.

“Oh, (Y/n)! You startled me!” she breathed. “I was just about to get you, really. I just got a call from the Council’s office. They want you upstairs.”

“Why? What is going on, have they told you? I was about to leave for that file, actually, I—”

“I’m not sure, but the Eldest of Council told me that you needed to meet with him right away.”

“Mr Howard?” you countered, feeling your stomach tighten. He was the highest ranking member of the Council, making you immediately nervous.

“Yes.” Miranda sighed, seemingly just as scared. If Mr Howard called for you, it couldn’t be good.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

You rushed away, pushing through the doors after straightening the lapels of your coat in the mirror. Walking up a few flights of stairs to where the Israeli Council had their headquarters underneath Jerusalem, your mind started to run.

Was it something you had said, or did you take breaks that were too long? No, if that had been the case, you wouldn’t be called into office. After all, you were the best Assassin they had and the most hard-working one at that. If you took a break that was ten minutes longer than planned, it—

You halted mid-step, standing still for a moment as realisation hit you. The agent from the ICA you had run into a few weeks back… Mentally cursing, you rubbed your forehead in frustration, resuming your walk to the main office, though with a heart that was even heavier. They must’ve found out that there were rivals on their turf. Took them a long while, too. Perhaps you should’ve reported it, but you hadn’t regarded it as a threat.

Oh, you were going to get the lecture of the century. On why you should’ve killed that hitman instead of letting him walk out, or at least how you should’ve neutralised him. About how he had probably now killed someone prominent within the Creed and that it could’ve been prevented if you had ended him. Perhaps you’d be banished for negligence or charged with the guilt of a fallen brother- or sister-Assassin.

Your knuckles rapped on the metal door in front of you and you took a deep breath. A Master Assassin felt no fear when it came to scaling buildings, killing people in high places, taking  Leaps of Faith. .. And yet, you were about to shit yourself because you had to speak with your superiors.

“Enter.” sounded the way-too-familiar voice of Thomas Howard, Eldest of Council and thus, the highest power when it came to the Brotherhood of Assassins. And so you went, closing the door behind you after slipping through the tiny gap you had created by pushing it open.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you were surprised at how confident your voice sounded.

“Yes, Miss (L/n). You may approach.”

The walls were covered in photographs of places, people and objects, red thread lined through here and there, revealing the on-going development of plans. You halted at the front of Mr Howard’s oaken desk, folding your hands on your back.

The middle-aged man looked at you thoughtfully.

“Miss (L/n)… You’ve been our best Master Assassin ever since your brother died. Is that correct?”

“Affirmative, sir.” you replied, swallowing away the lump in your throat at the mention of your deceased brother. “For five years now, sir.”

“Time and time again, you’ve proven loyalty to the Creed. I would trust you with the Brotherhood’s most secret investigations concerning Pieces of Eden and the extermination of Templar forces.”

You bowed your head humbly. “Thank you, sir. I’m honoured to hear that, sir.”

“Now.” he said, standing up, his robes swaying at the movement. “I need you to follow me.”

Why the secrecy, you wanted to ask, but opted to bite your tongue instead. It would be too rude a question, especially to the Eldest.

And so you went after him in silence, the only sound the beat of your footsteps.

“I will explain in further detail later, but we’ve picked up on a lead that runs deeper in importance than just exterminating the Templar Order. No, what we found will shake the world. You’re my most capable Assassin, so I need you on board.”

You nodded. “Sir, I’ve sworn fifteen years ago that I would do my all for the Brotherhood, that I would give my life and my dignity if it meant to serve it,” you paused before adding “...Sir.”

Mr Howard hummed in response. “I don’t think you’re going to like this, though.”

“Sir?” you asked, but he didn’t reply anymore.

“How about my other mission, sir?”

“I’ve placed Bethany on it. She’ll handle it just fine.”

“But Bethany is just a novice, sir. She won’t be able to—”

“I need you here.” Mr Howard said, displeased with your prying, and the tone of his scolding voice made you immediately cast your eyes downward.

“I apologise for my nosiness, sir.”

“Alright.” he said, and swiped a key-card to open a large, thick door.

The room was near empty, an ominous hue omitted by fluorescent light, a large table littered with files and documents in the middle. A few members from the High Council stood around, but an unfamiliar woman had her eyes on you. You locked her gaze to yours and raised an eyebrow.

Who was she?

“Here at last, Thomas.” an older lady you knew well stated, clearly unhappy with his late arrival. Siobhan Vermont glared at the two of you with narrowed eyes.

“I apologise, Mrs Vermont. The most important thing is that we’re here now, and I guess there are a lot of questions.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but someone cut you off before you could even start.

“You withheld information from us, (Y/n). You forgot to mention a rival assassin roaming the streets of Jerusalem. Someone of your ability should notice a thing like that right away.”

Casting your gaze downward, quite ashamed. “I apologise, sir. I should’ve reported it, but I threatened—”

“We already knew of their presence.” Mr Howard said. “There is no harm done, yet keep it in mind next time something like that happens.”

Your head whipped up to him and you frowned in confusion.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Mr Howard walked to the strange woman and whispered something to her. She nodded and went to the adjacent room silently.

“This is a mission we hoped we never had to plan, but the situation forced us into cooperation with people who have ties to the ICA. Something big is going to happen, something that will make the entire world shudder, something that will make the eradication of our own, current enemies seem insignificant.”

Mr. Howard ushered you to the middle of the room, to the table, and on the other side of it, someone was being led forward as well.

When you halted and looked up, resting your hands on the files underneath you. In front of you, mimicking your position, he stood. 

Icy blue eyes met yours, something in his gaze stirring.

“We meet again.” he dryly stated.

You sighed, feeling puzzled, then, your gaze hardening.

“Mr. Stilinski, if you’d step into my office, I’d like to talk to you for a moment.” Evie said as the kids went into the changing room after class the Friday following their first date. Stiles frowned, wondering what was wrong as he followed her back to her office through the studio.

“What’d you want to talk about?”

“Veronica’s progress in my class.” She said before closing the door on the curious moms peering across the studio, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Is she falling behind?” Stiles asked in concern.

“No, she’s doing spectacular.” She smiled as she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back lightly until he ran into the edge of her desk and sat on it.

“Then what-”

She stepped between his legs and yanked him down by the front of his shirt so she could kiss him, her lips sliding against his. He groaned softly at the surprise assault and his hands gripped at her hips to try and pull her closer, but he felt her mouth grimace against his and he immediately let her go.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly.

“Nothing, it’s fine, I’m fine.” She told him quickly. “Just that damn bruise.” She huffed, motioning to her hip.

“Can I see it?” He asked, looking concerned.

“You want to see my hip?” She asked skeptically.

“Okay, yeah, that’s inappropriate, sor-” He stopped talking when Evie lifted the hem of her shirt and tucked it under her bra. Normally he’d be focusing on the fact that she was exposing her skin, or that he hadn’t hallucinated the cute little mole that dotted her ribs under her breast. And he did notice those things, but they were more side thoughts to the sight that really drew his attention. She had a very sizable purple and blue bruise that spread out over the side of her hip, and when she hooked a thumb into her pants and pulled them down to reveal the rest he barely withheld a wince.

The blued flesh reached all the way from the top of her hip bone to the top of her thigh.

“It goes down a little more but...” She shrugged.

“Jesus.” Stiles whispered in concern.

“I ice it when I can, and it doesn’t bug me when I walk anymore, it’s just gross looking.” She wrinkled up her nose.

“No. It’s not gross.” He promised her. “It just looks..... Painful.” He decided. “Is it? Ya know, painful?” He asked.

“Only when I press on it.” She shrugged. He winced in sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, but I should have. After a hard fall like that I should have expected you to need more than six days to be completely fine.” He frowned.

“Stiles it’s f-ine.” She squeaked when his fingers suddenly brushed against the bruise, his touch feather light.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, pulling his hand back a bit. She shook her head rapidly, her lips bitten together by her teeth. “You look like you’re in pain though.” He pointed out.

“Stiles..... You’re touching me.” She shot back.

“Yeah...?” He frowned. She huffed and pulled his shirt up to place her hand on the bare skin of his side, her fingers trailing with the same amount of pressure he’d used. His face immediately flooded with heat. “Okay, yeah!” He realized.

“Yeah.” She drew the word out as she pulled her hand away and righted his shirt. Next she righted her own clothes and Stiles took a couple steps away while he focused on trying to keep himself calm. “But I’m glad to know I’m not the only one so easily affected.” Evie teased, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You thought I wasn’t easily affected?” He asked in shock.

“Well... That kiss after our date...”

“Yeah I couldn’t go to sleep for three hours because I was busy thinking about it.” He admitted.

“Me too.” She bit her lip against a smile and ducked her head. “But you kissed me like that and..... And then you acted so... Calm afterwards. Pecking me goodnight and then leaving.” She pouted.

“Evie I had to act calm. I wanted-.....” He huffed out a breath, stopping himself.

“What? Tell me.” She urged him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and when he finally looked at her again, she became stuck to her spot by his gaze. His eyes looked like molten gold, and she could feel the intensity of his stare cause a heat to flare up inside of her, and it only burned hotter when he spoke.

“I wanted to keep you pinned against your door. I wanted to make you moan louder in the middle of that hallway, neighbors be damned.” He stepped toward her slowly as he spoke. “I wanted to mark your skin with the evidence of my touch so you would think about that kiss like I had. I wanted to-” Evie covered his mouth with her hands the second he got close enough.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles! Are you trying to kill me?” She whined, and felt his smirk form underneath her palms. He pulled her hands from his face and surged forward to press his mouth down on hers.

He kissed her as if he’d never be able to kiss her again, his lips moving against hers with quiet desperation and hunger. He stepped forward, forcing her back until her backside bumped against the edge of her desk. His hands gripped at the backs of her thighs and he lifted her up to sit on top of the desk to bring her up closer to his height. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands sank into his hair as she kissed him back, sliding her lips against his with the same amount of passion he gave.

Evie broke their kiss after a minute, feeling a little overwhelmed. Stiles’ lips never left her skin however, he just moved his mouth along her jaw as she tilted her head back.

“Stiles....” She breathed as his attention shifted to the column of her neck. Her fingers tangled into his hair and she bit down on the edge of her lip to stop herself from whimpering at the feeling of his mouth.

“I wanted to kiss you the second I saw you again.” He admitted softly against her throat. “And then when you had me smell that damned perfume on your neck, all I could think about was marking up your pale skin with my mouth, just like this.” His hand came up and moved the collar of her long sleeved shirt out of the way before biting down on her shoulder. She gasped and quickly put a hand over her mouth to muffle the loud moan that tried to slip out when he sucked harshly at the skin.

When he finally pulled away she had a sizable red spot on her shoulder, and Evie looked about ready to either pounce on him or collapse onto her desk.

“Stil-”

“Will you go on a date with me on Monday?” He asked.

“Yes.” She agreed quickly, nodding her head.

“Good. I have to go, Ronnie’s probably waiting for me to take her home.” He kissed her pouting lips and grinned when he pulled away.

“You’re a fucking tease Stilinski.” She accused as he headed for the door.

“You love it.” He countered. She simply bit her lip and watched him slip out of her office. When the door closed behind him she did collapse back onto her desk, scattering a few papers in the process. Her fingers came up to touch at the hickey he’d made on her shoulder and she sucked in a breath at the pleasurable twinge of pain she felt at the contact.

“Fuck.” She breathed out, staring at the ceiling.

Monday night Stiles arrived at Evie’s apartment door, dressed casually because he’d planned to take her to a movie she’d been talking about seeing. He knocked on the door and waited for a moment, and just as he was about to try knocking again the door flew open, revealing a frazzled Evie, dressed in her pajamas.

“Stiles!” She said in surprise. “Oh fuck! Our date!” She smacked a hand to her forehead.

“I can wait while you get dressed.” He chuckled but his smile fell a bit when she frowned and bit her lip.

“I can’t go. Andy came home early today, he’s got a stomach flu.” She explained.

“Oh.” Stiles frowned in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But I just can’t leave him when he’s feeling so bad.”

“No, no. I completely understand, your kid always has to come first.” He insisted. “We can totally postpone, it’s fine. Go take care of Andy, and tell him I hope he feels better soon.” He assured her.

“I will. Thank you for understanding.” She darted forward and kissed him quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.” She said quickly and he nodded before she closed the door.

Stiles frowned as he made his way back to his car. He was worried about Andy, and how frazzled Evie seemed as a result. He had experienced one day of trying to take care of Ronnie alone while sick and it definitely wasn’t easy.

He fiddled with his keys as a plan formed in his mind. He nodded his head to himself and stuck his key in the ignition, driving decisively towards the nearest grocery store.

He rushed in, grabbed a basket, and went to produce first. He grabbed a bushel of bananas that were nearing their perfect ripeness, and then a six-pack of applesauce pouches. He moved to the bakery and got a loaf of wheat bread, and then moved down towards the soft drink and water aisle. He grabbed two big bottles of Gatorade, one in blue and the other in red just in case, and moved to the other side of the aisle to gab a twelve pack of ginger ale as well before heading back up to the condiments aisle to get crackers. He also grabbed a Strawberry Cheesecake Ben &Jerry’s ice cream and then moved to the self check.

He scanned, bagged, and paid for everything quickly and rushed back out to his car, heading back over to Evie’s apartment.

When she answered the door and saw him standing on the other side, his arms laden with grocery bags, she frowned.

“Stiles what-”

“I brought bread, Gatorade, bananas, applesauce, crackers, ginger ale... Basically the works of when Ronnie gets sick.” He said, holding the bags up.

“Stiles....” She breathed out, shocked by the kind act.

“I know how tough taking care of a sick kid is. Let me help.” He requested.

“I don’t want you to get sick though.” She frowned in concern.

“I got my flu shot. Hate needles but I didn’t want to risk getting some kind of flu and making Ronnie sick. I’m good, and I want to help.” He insisted gently. Evie bit her lip for a second before grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him.

“You’re so amazing.” She told him before opening the door wide and letting him in.

“I know.” He smiled and took the bags over to the kitchen table.

“Mom?” Andy called in a panic.

“I’m coming honey!” She raced down the hall and Stiles cringed when he heard the sounds of Andy heaving over a toilet as he put the ice cream in the freezer for later.

“We’ll start with toast and Gatorade.” He muttered to himself. He grabbed the loaf of bread and headed into the kitchen to toast a few pieces.

He’d just put them on a paper towel when Evie walked Andy out into the living room. The young boy was holding an opaque black bucket under his chin and had a comforter wrapped around his shoulders, even though there was a layer of sweat matting his hair to his forehead.

“Someone’s here to see you.” Evie murmured to him.

“Who?” He moaned out as his mom brushed his hair from his forehead.

“Hey kiddo, heard you weren’t feeling well.” Stiles greeted softly as he came out of the kitchen. Andy perked up and smiled at him.

“Stiles!” He greeted.

“Hey.” He returned. “I made you some toast, and I know it doesn’t have butter on it but the bread helps absorb the nasty germs in your stomach and gets them out.” He fibbed. The lie always worked for Ronnie and she even began to feel better after eating some.

“Really?” Andy asked looking between Stiles and his mom.

“Yes, I’ve read that somewhere.” She said quickly. Andy shrugged and took a piece of toast when Stiles offered them out and began nibbling on one end.

“I also have some Gatorade. I know it’s not the best when it’s warm but cold might aggravate your stomach.” He cautioned.

“No worries there, Andy likes warm Gatorade. Just like his mamma that way.” Evie assured with a smile.

“Red or blue?” Stiles asked.

“Red.” Andy decided. “Red’s better.”

“My kind of kid, red is definitely the best one.” Stiles agreed with a grin.

“You guys are crazy, it’s blue all the way.” Evie huffed.

“Two out of three mom, I think you’re the crazy one.” Andy sassed.

“I’ll let you get away with that because you’re sick but we’re going to exchange words later mister. I have no clue where you get this weird idea that red is better though. Even your dad likes blue.” She teased as Stiles poured a glass of the red drink for Andy.

“What movies do you like Andy?” He wondered.

“Star Wars. But neither of my parents like it. They’re such weirdos.” He complained.

“I can’t argue with that. Star Wars is great.”

“Okay, you know what. I don’t like Star Wars because I was forced to watch it every day after school when I was six by my babysitter. I was six and forced to watch that when instead I wanted to watch Sleeping Beauty.” She pouted. “Star Wars ruined my childhood.” She insisted.

“Okay I might forgive you. Everyone has to come across those movies on their own to appreciate them. If they’re forced on someone of course they won’t appreciate them.” He chuckled before turning to Andy. “Any other movies?”

“Back to The Future?” Andy asked.

“Okay this kid is now my son, I am adopting him.” Stiles decided.

“Then you’ll deal with the puke.” Evie agreed easily.

“Hey, no, he still needs a mom.” He said quickly, making both Evie and Andy laugh.

“Why are you asking about movies?” Andy wondered.

“Well.... In my house Ronnie and I have a rule that the person who’s sick gets to pick the movies we get to watch.” He shrugged.

“Oh, I like that. Andy and I have the same thing but it wasn’t really a rule, it’s just a thing we do.” Evie smiled.

“Does this mean I can watch Star Wars?” Andy asked.

“How about we work up to it? Ease me in with Back To The Future.” She smiled.

“Okay.” Andy nodded.

“Alright, let’s get you situated on the couch and I’ll go put the movie in.” She smiled. Her and Andy shuffled over to the couch and Stiles went to go get a spoon and the ice cream.

He handed them both to Evie when he walked back into the living room and she looked up at him in shock.

“Stiles, you got me ice cream?” She asked.

“Yeah, this one’s your favorite right?” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice to me.” She mumbled as she accepted the frozen treat. He shrugged again and helped her stand from the crouch she’d been in to the put the DVD in. They turned to the couch and found Andy curled up on one side, taking up a cushion and a half.

“I’ve got this. Tetris has prepared me for this.” Evie grinned. She went and lifted Andy’s legs and placed them down on her lap as she sat down and then patted the full cushion next to her for Stiles to sit down.

Andy switched from having his head on the arm rest to having his head in his mother’s lap and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair gently as she felt Stiles sink into the cushion on her other side and wrap an arm around her shoulders on the back of the couch. He held her ice cream for her and she took one handed bites of it with her spoon as they all watched Marty McFly go on an adventure through time.

“We make quite the little team.” Evie murmured as she closed Andy’s door behind herself.

“Well, that’s what Lydia and I do when Ronnie’s sick. Taking care of a sick kid all on your own is exhausting. We hang out at whatever house she got sick at and both help take care of her.” He shrugged. “And I know Mike wouldn’t help you, so I thought I would.”

“Stiles, you’re so.... Good.” Evie sighed, coming over and placing her forehead against his chest.

“I try.” He smiled, placing a kiss to the top of her head as his fingers combed gently through the length of her hair. “I should.... Probably head out.” His sentence was interrupted by a large yawn in the middle but he got it out.

“It’s really late though, and you look tired.” She frowned up at him.

“I’ll be fine.” He promised.

“No. You’re staying here. I don’t want you wrecking because you fell asleep at the wheel.” She insisted.

“But-”

“Stiles, you helped me take care of my son, now let me take care of you. You’re staying here.” She huffed.

“Okay fine. Got a spare pillow so I can take the couch?” He asked.

“You’re not taking the couch, my bed is plenty big enough for both of us to sleep in.” She promised.

“I didn’t want to assume.” He frowned.

“And you didn’t.” She shrugged. “Now come on. I have new toothbrushes to spare because Andy just went to the dentist last week.” She smiled. “I’ll even let you have the bathroom first.” She teased.

“How generous of you.” He chuckled as he followed her down the hall to her room. She went into her bathroom and grabbed a toothbrush from one of the drawers to hand to him and then headed out into the bedroom to wait for her turn.

They switched spots when Stiles opened the door again but before she could close the door to the bathroom completely she turned back to him.

“I know for a fact that jeans aren’t comfortable to sleep in. I know you don’t want to assume so I’ll tell you, yes it’s fine if you take them off.” She smiled and he nodded before she closed the door.

Stiles awkwardly took off his pants and folded them up in a chair in the corner before getting under the covers and settling into the bed to wait for Evie.

When she came back out with her face shining faintly and her hairline a little damp he rose an eyebrow.

“Skin care is self care.” She recited and he chuckled as she shut off the light and climbed into the bed on the opposite side of him. she turned on her side to face him and tucked her pillow securely under her cheek before her hand snaked across the bed and took his in its hold.

“Good night Evie.” He murmured. She moved closer and pressed a soft slow kiss to his lips.

“Good night Stiles.” She whispered against his mouth. He hummed and kissed her back, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer with the intention to cuddle as their lips separated. As they settled against each other Evie kissed him again, just to feel his soft lips, and he grinned as he kissed her back, pulling her towards him to press closer. Her fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck and her mouth slanted over his, deepening their kiss.

Evie shifted and pushed herself up while Stiles shifted to lay flat underneath her. His hand came up to cup her cheek and his other arm wrapped around her waist as her tongue swept teasingly along his bottom lip. His lips parted for her but she grinned and pulled away from him.

“What’s-” He stopped when she moved one of her legs over his, settling down just shy of his hips.

“Is this okay?” She asked softly.

“Is that even a question you need to ask?” He retorted.

“Yes it is.” She said seriously.

“Well there’s your answer.” He reached up and pulled her head back down so he could kiss her again. She smiled against his mouth and moaned softly when he nipped at her lip.

His hands rested lightly on her hips, his thumbs rubbing just inside the bones under her shirt. As they kissed his hands moved up further under her shirt so he could press his fingers more firmly into her skin and she hummed pleasantly into his mouth.

“Mmm.... I love you.” She murmured softly, and then froze a second later when she realized just what she’d let slip. “Oh shit, I-” She stopped when his laughter began shaking her.

“You say ‘I love you’ and immediately follow it with ‘oh shit’.” He teased and watched her pout. “That’s exactly why I love you too.”

“Wait really? Or are you just saying it because I said it and you don’t-” He pressed a kiss to her rambling lips to stop the torrent of words.

“I’m genuinely saying that I’m in love with you, Eve.” He promised.

“Okay... Good. I love you too.” She returned with a bashful smile. “But, you don’t think it’s too soon? I mean we’ve technically only been on one date. Part of a date since it got interrupted.” She corrected herself.

“Evie.” He said to stop her. “I don’t care. I’ve gotten to know your for almost two months despite our one official date. It’s enough to convince me that I love you.” He promised.

She smiled brilliantly and kissed him hard, her lips pressing down on his with enough enthusiasm to make him groan lowly. He pushed her hair from her neck and let his mouth wander along her jaw and throat.

“Stiles...” She moaned softly and he nipped lightly at her skin, earning him a gasp.

“I love the sounds you make.” He murmured, and his comment made her moan again. He smirked and flipped their positions on the bed so that he was the one hovering over her. Her fingers reached up into his hair and she bit her lip against all the little noises she wanted to let out as his lips traveled the length of her throat, and then down to her collarbones.

He’d just reached the tops of her breasts when the sound of a door closing loudly startled both of them. Stiles’ head shot up while Evie shot her gaze to her door. She relaxed for a second before remembering that Andy was sick.

“I need to go check on him. He always tries to hide himself getting sick when he thinks I’m asleep.” She frowned and Stiles easily let her go. He watched her leave the room before scooting up to sit in the bed.

His head thumped against the headboard and he sighed heavily, trying to ignore some insistent parts of him that were demanding he pull her back into the bed the second she got back and continue where they’d left off.

“False alarm.” Evie said as she walked back into the room and closed her door gently behind herself. She bit her lip as she watched Stiles lift his head to look at her. “Sorry.” She cringed.

“What on earth for?”

“Well I kind of just ran out....”

“You have a sick child in the next room over. If you didn’t run at the sounds of doors closing I’d question your parenting.” He chuckled.

“Still... Kind of killed the mood.” She winced and he chuckled.

“I’m used to there never being a mood to even kill. This is progress.” He joked as he wiped a hand over his jaw and around the back of his neck. “Now I just have to re-learn how to calm the fuck down.” He muttered a little louder than he’d meant to.

“Why do you think I’m still over here?” Evie smiled wryly. “If I was over there I’d be-”

“Please don’t. I seriously can’t handle mental images right now.” He said quickly.

“Sorry.” She giggled. “Just think of grandmas in bikinis.” He groaned at that.

“Jeez, thanks for that horrifying picture.” He muttered and she laughed softly.

“Anytime.” She promised as she slowly made her way back over to the bed and climbed in. They both settled under the covers, cuddled together.

“If I kiss you good night are you going to pounce on me?” He teased.

“I’ll try valiantly to restrain myself.” She grinned and met him for a soft final kiss. “Good night Stiles.” She murmured.

“Good night Evie.” He returned.

Tagged: @amethystmerm4id, @apollogirl13, @susybird, @wittystiles, @bondtravels, @cathobs, @parislight, @iknowisoundcrazy, @mieczyslawwinchester1102, @caitsymichelle13, @maddie110201, @xmadwonderland, @snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales, @2017booklover, @bondtravels, @tdylanobrienisbae