Massachusetts

4,293 years since initial death
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He was wrong.

While he was done with the New World, it wasn't done with him. After so long, he was back in the land that he wished never to step foot in again. Granted, it wasn't Jamestown, but it was still close. The fields looked similar, forests surrounding the area, a darker texture of grass; it was all the same.

The only differences were the warships, the cannons that laid over the fields, several armed battalions of men in uniform ready to march and the smoke that covered the sky from previous gunfire. Drummers banged loudly as the British flags waved in the distance, every single man here knew of the terror that was to come.

Muskets were prepared, gunpowder remained on standby for the guns and cannons, as well as nails and other substances that could be used as ammunition. British officers galloped on horses in front of their battalions, their swords ready to signal an advance. In the brief moments of silence, everyone thought of what would remain in the aftermath.

For the first time in a long time, Michael was confident he was on the right side of the war. No longer unarmed, he held onto his rifle tightly. Breathing heavily, he was ready for the battle ahead. To fight for freedom and independence, for a land he had once abandoned before, but has poured all of his heart and soul into.

He often wonders how he got here in the first place, how he always finds a way to land into these situations. Sure, he gets tired of living alone in a home away from civilization, especially when he's there for nearly a hundred years. But to find himself back in the front lines of war in America is something he never thought would have ever happened to him again.

It was during his return to Portsmouth, England that he witnessed the hundreds of navy fleets and warships. Every single one of them was filled with several hundred men and supplies, they were all ready for a massive warfare. At first, he wasn't going to join them, until he heard of their destination.

America, currently in control by the colonists. They were the United Colonies, and they were no longer interested in serving under British rule. Independence was demanded, one that King George of Great Britain denied, and a war had ensued.

Michael saw no issue with independence, as he himself had spent years living away from any governing rule. His curiosity got the better of him, but he was still hesitant as he was happy living here anyways. Traveling back to that world just wouldn't sit right with him, it felt wrong.

After the catastrophe that he endured in Jamestown, he had just wanted to keep his distance from the world entirely. But staring at the might of the British Empire had him wonder. How have those colonists adapted without him? He figured every settlement in the New World would have been abandoned, or the native tribes in the area would have killed them all off.

For a massive fleet to actively sail over carrying thousands of men with countless more on the way; something must have happened. Before he realized the truth behind independence being denied, he thought the British were planning on aiding the colonists in another war to push the natives back.

Some of the ships had begun to depart, his opportunity was fading. He wanted to stay in Europe, but temptation called out to him, and he knew he had to go. So many years have passed, that land must be different now than the last time he's been there. And he was right, it had changed.

He volunteered to join, showing documents that proved he was capable of being a soldier. Nobody suspected anything, as he had been in each major city of England for the past couple of years. Many of the locals knew him, he was friendly towards everyone, and nothing was strange about his willingness to join the military as they all knew of his strengths and skills at combat and leadership.

Soon enough, he was aboard one of the many ships that sailed to America. Throughout his few years in England recently, constant ships sailed back and forth to the Thirteen Colonies. Now, in 1775, he was ready to depart back to the very land he never planned on visiting again. On April 19th, he had arrived just in time to witness the very start of the Revolution started by the colonists.

Boston, Massachusetts. It was a glorious city, several wide roads were filled with lively crowds and horses. Colonial homes were erected around every street. Compared to Jamestown, it felt as if he was back in London. He basked in the moment, setting down his weapon to stare at the colonial architecture before him. His whole mind changed, he began to feel that this could be his home.

Even now, he looked at himself and realized just how far he had come. Wearing the iconic red and white British regular outfit, it was far different than the armor he was used to wearing over the past centuries. His dark, straightened hair was covered by a cap, slightly blowing by his ears. Onboard the ship, he had shaved his scruffy beard, revealing his clean-shaven face. What would the past Maalik think of himself today?

Then, he remembered why he couldn't stay here. A few minutes of peace was all he was given. Just in the distance, an explosion occurred and one of the buildings was set on fire. He had only just arrived and a war had broken out on the streets. This was the beginning of the colonists' revolution, to fight back against the opposing British rule.

The explosion he witnessed was started by the British themselves. All around him, British soldiers ran down onto the streets of the city, carrying their rifles. Gunshots were heard soon afterwards. Unknown to Michael, the British had planned this attack for months, to specifically target colonial powder stores and other assortments of ammunition. By destroying these resources, the colonials will have nothing to defend themselves with.

Thanks to the warnings heard by Paul Revere and Samuel Prescott a day prior to this event, many of their gunpowder was transported away before the attack. But a battle had still broken out, and it would become a massacre. The fight had started far west of their position in Lexington, only for it to spread around the entire city.

Michael was so distracted by the scenery and the nearby explosion that he didn't even notice the pellet fired from the streets aimed for his head. By the time he blinked, he finally realized the situation. Only an inch away from death, striking the mast of the ship behind him. He hadn't died in a while, he almost forgot what it felt like.

With over seven hundred British regulars marching to battle, the colonials were severely outnumbered. They barely had a hundred men to defend Lexington. Just outside of Concord, a handful of companies filled with dozens of British troops opened fire against the small number of colonials.

With Michael being immediately dispatched to join the battle, he was still confused by these events. He heard of the British soldiers justifying their attacks, calling the patriots "traitors" for defying their king and their supreme rule. But he still didn't know if it was worth killing them over wanting freedom. It didn't seem right.

The British regulars murdered several of the colonials outside of Lexington and suffered only one casualty. They moved back into Boston to regroup with the other regulars before marching into Concord. Michael was already there, standing alongside the regulars behind the North Bridge. He couldn't hear anything over the roaring sounds of gunshots. Corpses were beginning to fall into the river.

He aimed his rifle but hesitated. Wanting to know exactly who he would side with before making the first shot, he continued aiming his rifle but never fired. Before he could make up his mind, he was shoved over by one of the regulars screaming at him. It was pure insanity as men stumbled over one another, firing all at once.

Because of it, Michael accidentally pulled back his trigger, firing his musket in the process. He watched the round fly in the air and graze one colonial's wig, barely striking his head. Michael gasped a breath of relief, he wasn't willing to take a life just yet. But it didn't matter in the end regardless. What resulted next was an ambush as hundreds of colonials emerged from beyond the bridge to aid the rest of the patriots.

Michael couldn't concentrate on anything, he just knew that a retreat was called. The British were scrambling over one another just to run. Meanwhile, he noticed the colonials were dragging the bodies of their fallen comrades, helping each other stand and continue the fight.

The fight had ended in disaster. Over a hundred regulars were wounded, with nearly eighty of them dead. The colonials suffered significantly less, able to maintain themselves and return to recover from the battle.

Everyone already knew a war was imminent, hence why the British had already garrisoned entire navy fleets and stationed battalions across the nation. They were only waiting for who would make the first move. Already, on Michael's first day back in a world he had long since abandoned, the real war had officially started.

Throughout his years through history, he has always ended up betraying the British. Apart from Somerset with Arthur that has become nothing more than a myth, an urban legend. He sided against the English at the end of the Crusades with Saladin, and he turned against them during the Siege of Orléans. It was only a matter of time before he added another event to the list.

They can't control everything, no Empire can ever hold that much power. Even the Roman Empire that so many believed would never fall eventually broke down. If the colonists truly want their own independence away from the Empire's massive grasp, then so be it. Everything will end in due time, none of it mattered anyways. As he had come to learn, every empire has to fall.

Living for so long has taken a toll on Michael. His vast wisdom and knowledge is too much for him to handle, he can't help but break down every often. Nothing made sense to him, he already lost the will to live thousands of years ago. But he accepted it, if he was truly meant to live for the rest of eternity, complaining won't get him anywhere.

However, he still doesn't understand the meaning behind his wrath. He wanted to imagine he was being punished for it, but he can't comprehend why it happened in the first place. He even wondered if he was the only one destined to suffer this curse, or if there were others just like him.

Warfare had this effect on him. Often, he would contemplate his life after every battle. Immediately after the battle in Lexington and Concord, he was regretting ever returning to this country. But there was no turning back now.

While he was on patrol, walking down a vacant path with his musket, his thoughts were interrupted. He always felt like he was being watched, and usually he's right for feeling this way. From a nearby bush, there was a rustle. In the distance, a small barn was visible, with a few men standing by. Michael knew exactly what he was walking into. He was alone, away from the others, and an ambush was only imminent.

He stopped in his tracks and dropped his musket to the ground. Also removing his hat, he looked around him. "I know I'm surrounded, reveal thy selves in peace, bloodshed is unnecessary." He spoke out loud, just enough for everyone to hear him clearly.

There was silence for a bit, obviously his actions have confused the colonists.

"I serve under no rule nor king, you have no fear to face me." As an added measure, he kicked his rifle away.

A few men emerged from the surrounding cover. They all had their rifles aimed at Michael, but he remained motionless and stared at every single one of them. All of them were young, still in their twenties and thirties.

One of them walked dangerously close towards him, never breaking eye contact once. "You expect us to trust you right away, do you?"

Michael slowly shook his head, remaining confident and never showing any signs of fear or cowardice. "If I had meant any harm, you all would be lying in a pool of blood."

They laughed, not knowing he was dead serious. His hands were forced behind his back and were tied with rope. He remained silent as he was led off the path and into the barn he had noticed before. Strapped to a wooden beam, he remained unable to move while the colonists all looked at him, deciding who should begin questioning him first.

One man stepped forward, he wore a traditional wig but his clothing was far more elegant. His name was Joseph Warren, the President of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress. Only thirty-four years old, he had the clean shaven face of bravery. Standing tall and proud, he stared Michael deep into his eyes.

"My men have stated that you serve under no rule nor king, is it your wish to defect?" He asked, awaiting an answer. Michael simply nodded.

Warren continued. "A test is in order before trust is earned, do you contain any information considered valuable for us?"

"Charlestown, in two months time." Michael remembered the plans shared by the captains and officers aboard the ships. They were going to capture Bunker Hill, which would set the stage for their capture of Charlestown entirely. "Three thousand men, including naval fleets, cannons and artillery. The British plan a full occupation and march across Bunker Hill."

The soldiers looked worried, they were in no condition to face such a threat. Even Warren was concerned, but he understood the risks men would often take in times of war. He noticed his comrades' expressions.

"Gentlemen, keep your wits about. Whether this information is true or false, we do not cower in the face of war. Stand strong by your weapon. Do not be fooled by numbers, even if their forces range in millions, we never submit." His words of encouragement helped raise the morale in the room.

Finally, he turned his attention back to Michael. "We shall see if your words remain true. Assuming they are, you have our many thanks and gratitude. If what you have told us is the truth, then you may have just saved all our lives."

"Independence is not granted, only earned. Your men seem courageous, willing to risk their lives for their people. I respect thee, you have earned more than just freedom in my heart."

Warren nodded before hesitating for a moment. Then he signaled for Michael to be released, watching as he is untied and is once again let free. "You need not your weapons for the time being, until your trust is earned. My men shall escort you to our nearest camp. You may settle there under close supervision to prevent any acts of spying and deception."

Michael thanked him and was taken out of the barn. As informed, he was led down the path, away from any prying eyes and eventually reached a small camp. None of the soldiers seemed like formidable warriors, rather they appeared to be ordinary young men. Some had a bit of trouble holding up their muskets, others were frightened of the war.

Upon his arrival to the camp, he was met with sharp glances and disapproval because of his British uniform. Many were skeptical of his decision to defect, as spies would often play the part just to get behind enemy lines. But he would soon earn their trust, as the battle he had forewarned them was only inevitable.

This battle would prove who's side he's on.

Once and for all.

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Historical Notes:

Paul Revere during his famous 'Midnight Ride' never actually said the British are coming. The mission was meant to be done in secrecy. There were many British army patrols and several colonials considered themselves British. Therefore, he had to say, "The Regulars are coming out".

A famous command is given during the Battle of Lexington by colonial captain, John Parker. It goes as stated:

"Stand your ground. Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it begin here."

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