A not so Pleasant Experience

"Ugh, Finn is such an idiot, a fucking blabbermouth is what he is, and what the hell up is with Michael? He is the literal personification of the saying "Biting the hand that feeds you", like what is up with this family."

I finish my rant with a frustrated sigh, I can't help but feel bad for Tommy, he's like broken as hell and people seem to step on him too much, and if that's not enough on his plate, a big fucking piece of shit named Oswald Mosley lands on his face.

Standing up from the couch, I go to the kitchen to fetch me a beer, and once again remind myself that I need to tone it down, the liquor ban forbids people from buying any kind of liquors for this month and the next, shitty virus keeps on getting on my way. As I walk back to the couch, I hear my doorbell ring and check to see who it was, I open to see a gun barrel pointing at me.

I don't have time to talk or anything for that matter as he shoots soon after I open the door, as I drop to the ground, bleeding profusely with no hope of saving, I hear him mention something,

"Mr. Smith sends his regards."

Hearing the name, rage and confusion befalls me since I know no one with that name and before long I black out and fall into oblivion, or I was supposed to, cause right now it seems like I am in a blank white room with nothing inside, now I'm not much of a web novel reader but even I know where this is going. After a few minutes of waiting, nobody seems to be coming, I thought that maybe he's just late, so I wait.

Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours and hours turn into days and days turn to months and months to years. During that time, I contemplated on why I was here in the first place, I thought about the fact on why I was not panicking but I blame that on the supposed 'god' that sent me here, I get no answers but after a few centuries of thinking and doing nothing but walk around and contemplate about life, I tried to do experiments and willed into existence things for comfort like a sofa so I can actually relax.

Unexpectedly, a black sofa pops into existence in front of me, I look at it in surprise before I grinned and popped into existence everything I wanted. A TV, some pizza, a PS5, and everything a lazy guy could ask.

I spent a few years doing nothing but that, while watching TV the only thing I couldn't watch was news so I left it alone cause who the hell cares, but years spending like that ultimately bored me so I turned to studying random stuff, like guns and how they work, poisons and how to use them properly, how to be an assassin from AC, stuff like that. The last one was unexpected cause it was a passing thought but I learned how to anyway, it was a bit difficult since there needed to be live tests to properly do it but I just popped out some dummies and used them for assassin training and shooting.

After doing things like that for a decade or two, or three, I turned to psychology and how to read the body language of people, spent a few years doing that. I spent the rest of my time once again, reading random stuff and learning how to do them since it's the only thing I can do here.

Time passed and eventually, something different actually happened. A portal appeared near me, now nobody really said anything about don't enter any random portal so I thought why the hell not.

I stepped into the portal and thought about everything I did here. Now let's just hope I don't lose my memories. Afterwards, I blacked out immediately.

------

I woke up on top of the ground, inside an alley. Confusion befalls me and I try to recollect myself. I looked at myself and notice I am dressed like how Jacob Frye looked on AC syndicate, on top of that, I had on the classic wrist blades from AC, the ones that don't cut the finger of course. No idea what I looked like since I currently had no mirror but that can wait since foreign memories of who I am or who I am supposed to be rushed to my head.

My name is Eric Carlson, aged 20, and he supposedly participated in the war and just returned home some months ago, right as he was walking in an alley, a random passerby supposedly shot him, he staggered to this alley but died in the end. Unfortunate but good for me, I guess.

Now to figure out where I am. No sooner after having that thought, I heard a horse incoming, I go near where I heard the sound was coming from and was surprised and excited to find out where I am. I watch as the legend himself walk the horse toward the end of the street to give start to what I call as the spark of what made Thomas Shelby the legend he is.