User:EmeraldCorruption/Sandbox

John PitcairnFanon Story:PFanon Story 2Fanon Char 2

• I'm getting to it.

Chapter One - The Test

Discovery

"Begin," the voice of the instructor ordered, waving his hand between the two trainees before him and stepping back off of the mat, observing them. They stood their a moment, dressed in the dark work-out attire of gym shorts and a muscle shirt, positioning themselves to strike.
The first, a fair-haired blonde male, shot his arm forward toward the other's chest, thick knuckles flying toward his central cavity. The other arched back, staring as the fist flew over his curling form through his auburn glare. Held back on his hands, he used his dropping momentum to pull his legs up, wrapping them tightly around the now aimless blow. Hopping up with his arms, the boy twisted to his feet and brought the other to the floor, forcing his face hard into the mat.
The boy yelped, unable to move in the fear his stressed joint would snap between his superior's knees. Isaac, from his dominating position, flashed a smile down at his foe, easily brushing the ebony locks from his sight-line. Eric, azure eyes clenched shut, lay pressed against the padding, completely pinned in the simple practice spar.
"Yield," the examiner said to end the warm-up, pressing weakly against Isaac's chest to move him away from his defeated opponent. Leaning over, the training mentor assisted the boy to his feet, stepping back so that they could bow.
"Every time, Morrow, every time you have something to counter whatever move I throw," Eric chuckled, lowering deeply in his form of honor.
"Only for you, Williams, only for you," Isaac replied, a smile stretching his strong facial features as he bowed in return before raising to welcome the next opponent. Just as the next boy began to rise though, the mechanical doors slid apart, welcoming in the Transitions Director, who took trainees around to certain areas when necessary.
"Isaac Morrow, Eric Williams, Alexander Rommel, Elizabeth Louis, Michaela Williams, and Cynthia Macklebee?" the formally clothed director asked, eyes searching around the room for the six individuals he called out.
Each of the six glanced over to the man, already beginning their walk toward him for wherever they were going. Isaac, the last to reach the man, looked around at the others to see who he was going with. He new Eric and Alex well, both being his practice partners for physical and mental assignments respectively. He also knew the women by name, but not very much by who they were, other than the fact that they were all master hackers in the age-group.
Turning around as if it were a scripted motion, the Director began walking, the six following closely. Isaac, who memorized the trails, quickly discovered where it was they were headed, not saying anything about it though.
"Each of you are being tested for your next tier, exceeding the levels of your ordinary peers," the man said as he lead them forward. "For the next few days, you will each go through a series of computer-based tests concerning hacking, stealth, and problem management. You are not to speak to the others around you, nor your Mentors, who will be observing you."
Following their arrival to the lab, each of them hastily spread out to their seats throughout the room, starting their consoles as they prepared for the next few hours. Isaac, sitting back, quickly typed the date at the head of his assignment, 9-10-01, reading over his instructions. He couldn't help but grin at the work he was told to do, not even caring about his test. There were better things he thought he could work on.
Tabbing up a few programs, he clicked several keys in a way to act as if he were hacking them up to learn their properties and false secrets, while he was simultaneously altering the settings of the computer to make it seem he were working to one that was viewing the screen. When that was over, he decided it was time for a tour of a random site. Connecting to the internet, he typed several random letters into the search-bar, and clicked the first link.
It was some pharmaceutical company, several advertisements and images plaguing the page's home-plate. Isaac wondered if any breakthroughs were in the making, so he worked around with his soft-wares and went to the employee page, which concluded in a huge pop-up concerning log-ins. Sliding the image back to his command-program, he suddenly began a wave of seemingly random letters and numbers, as well as orders and symbols.
Another screen shot from the browser, walls of numerical coding blasting across the screen, Isaac had hit a firewall that within itself held several more firewalls. Huge protection that was poorly located and and obvious clue that something was hiding back. Responding with his own commands and walls of text, he eventually passed through the wall to watch thousands of numbers flash across his monitor as the important username and its password were eventually determined for access. Address hidden, the teenager pressed inside and straight to the databases.
This was obviously not a normal company of medicine, there were hundreds of mentions of religion and history, as well as several emails through the system regarding a 'plan'. Reading through some of the private messages and historical entries, the boy grew in his shock.
'...it happens tomorrow.'
'The democracy hangs by the thread of economy, the security to manage it all being its wall. Behind that, the leaders are nothing.'
'...flights have been chartered in Logan Airport, Dulls International Airport, and Newark National Airport, you know where they are going.'
'After the sweep, the Brotherhood will be too wide-spread to fight back, we will have them on a string.'
Isaac, looked up at the wall, not daring to turn around but too dumbstruck to do anything for a few minutes. The last few messages had all concerned Democracy and flights, and after a run-through of all the acquired information, the flights chartered all left the next day, and the mentions of something occurring then were alarming. Isaac was unsure what to think about the 'sweep', but he had some idea of what to look for next.
Running through the company's databases, Isaac searched for the 'Brotherhood' entry, so that he could hasten his search through the thousands of pages in their archives. Skimming through the entry, he was unsure what to think, what to believe. His entire life had been devoted to training, and he still had no idea what for, but he had learned something. Whatever he was doing had something to do with the Assassin Brotherhood and the Templar Order.
'They are believed to have access to their own communications network that can not be traced from our locations.'
An hour later, his searching of the internet came to an end, his conclusion made. Determining the approximate points accessible by cell-towers and internet wavelengths, Isaac began eliminating all impossible regions. After another hour of repetitive searches and attempted hacks, he finally got a lead with a text from the New York City area, meant for an unknown number, and mentioning a flight and transporting a 'piece'. Blasting through public archives, he found the man's name, Alexander Grey, and shot through his flight schedule.
He was meant to have been flying around midday to San Francisco, luckily enough the lack of information and suspicious history in the archives presented a hopeful opportunity that this man was an Assassin. Whoever the Templars were, their plan in the company's database was easily the greater of the evils. Hacking into the Newark National Airport's system, he switched the flights a bit to put Grey and his friend on the 0830 flight.

September 11, 2001

The next morning, Isaac awoke to the screeching of the building's alarm, which was sounding demonically in a state of crisis. His room's television set was on, images sliding across it and videos playing that tore away comprehension. Two planes from Logan Airport had crashed into the World Trade Center. One plane from Dulls International Airport had crashed into the Pentagon. Another plane had crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania, and had been leaving from Newark.
Suddenly, Isaac's door opened wide, the Transitions Director waving him to come along and follow. Tugging his sweat-shirt on, he quickly met the strangely quickened pace of the man before him. Following their entry to a room he had yet to come across, Isaac noticed several men sitting about an auditorium, curled around a center point. Hesitantly sliding to the center of the room, he stared up through his still tired auburn eyes.
"We watched everything yesterday, we were monitoring with a new filter, and so your little trick failed to bi-pass the code, Isaac Morrow," one of the higher-seated members stated firmly toward him. "You are not in trouble though. Your work is the reason that the Newark plane crashed into Pennsylvania, and not a major center of work. It was headed for the White House."
Isaac was unsure of what to say, simply staring blankly at the men around him, expression empty other than the confused appearance.

"We know that you have many questions, and everything will be explained soon," another of the fancily-situated elders remarked. "But we congratulate you on your success in surpassing the next tier and becoming a true recruit. Your training begins with lessons in an hour, situated within the archive-chamber. Welcome to the Erudito Collective."

• Assassins
• Starting a few days before the end of AC3
• Ancestor in World War 1, multiple POE contacts

• I am getting to it.