Assassination note: I would like to thank my good buddy xXSMiZXx for motivating me to finish typing the first chapter and showing me a song that made this idea come to be- 'cause I thought it was crap and all that other stuff when I started and...yeah. Anyway, hope those who bother to read enjoy. (and anon. reviews are allowed...just so you know...)
He was standing near the edge of a cliff, staring forth while lifting his arms and his hands gripping the fabric of his hood. It was damp due to the fact that it had been raining, the weight upon his person heavier than before seeing as the cloth was dense before and now it was worse.
Though he took a step toward the edge, wondering how he got there. What the purpose was of doing this, looking out at the vast amount of water displayed before him. The rain obscured his vision while he cocked his head back at the sound of thunder.
What am I doing...? crossed his mind, pondering why and how he got to this point in the first place.
It all started with a simple, vital, mistake. Then his rank was stripped from him, needing to assassinate certain Templar leaders whom spoke, worded riddles that clouded and haunted his mind, soon hearing that his mentor was one of his enemies. He did not want to believe it, he wished he could have plainly ignored it and not have confronted him.
Alas that was not the kind of man he was, and so he had to kill his teacher and assume the Grand Master position himself. He's then rebuilt the Creed, making it better, more efficient, a while later marrying and having children.
He'd watched them be born, grow, he trained them personally. And now he was the ripe old age of sixty, staring down at the roaring waters that crashed and assaulted the cliff's walls.
Taking his hands down from his hood the old man stared down on them, watching as they reverted back to his youth. The man blinked slowly, clenching then unclenching his hands.
His lovely wife had died a few years previous, his children now had children of their own, even his best friend had departed from this world.
He took a step forth. Why am I doing this? Is it worth it? No...no...this is wrong...stop. Yet he kept walking forth, closing his eyes on the last step.
The wind caressed his falling form, arms spread out and his grey hair slowly shifting back to chocolate, the wrinkles that marred his face fleshed out and skin became taut.
Why do I feel so -
A man jerked up into a sitting position, honey spheres widened. His left hand pressed against his chest, panting with a shaken look on his face. Slowly he curled his fingers while shuddering and taking in quick inhales of air.
For the past few days he'd been having similar dreams to that, always with that man - whoever that is - walking off the edge of a high point over water. Though when he noted how the man's physical stature was...
It seemed so eerily familiar to his own.
Though that was crazy, insanity. He had never thought of committing suicide, or even wearing such garbs as the man within his dreams had. Never.
Closing his eyes he reached his right hand up to brush sweat drenched bangs out of his face before lowering both hands and moving to stand with a soft exhale.
Letting his eyes slide open the brunet began to get ready for his day, reaching down to lift the white - now as soaked in sweat as his hair - t-shirt and tossed it atop the covers to his bed then moved to remove his sleeping shorts.
Turning he moved over to his dresser, gripping the silver handles, pulling back so his elbows bent revealing a variety of clothes, confined within the first drawer. Reaching in he pulled out a pair of baggy jeans, a plain blue shirt and black boxers.
Setting the clothing choice for the day down he began the process of getting dressed...
Ignoring the sounds of terrorized screams and shrills from whatever it was that was in the area of where he lived now.
...I'm used to it... he reminded himself, just like every day. One day there's a HIVE then the next there's a BASE. As long as I'm not 'infected' then I'll be left to live another day...
Once dressed he trailed over to the bedroom door, reaching to the side and grabbing his hoodie, yanking it on then the pistol on his dresser. Gripping the handle he twisted it and opened it with an emotionless look as he rose said gun to shoot a blood covered person between the eyes.
The woman's face pulsed, an ugly shade of purplish-pink glowing then fading in color before it dulled entirely.
I deal with this every day. An infected gets into the house, I shoot it... Lowering his arm he moved over to where his bag resided, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at the pictures decorating the walls. Looking at one in particular.
'Wish you were here, Altair~' was written on the image of his girlfriend, the last thing he'd gotten from her before hearing that she'd been killed by some drunk driver.
Though he'd done some digging and found it was an infected man who had done it. It was a wonder how he became so silent and simply did the 'shoot on sight' whenever he caught sight of anything that stumbled about with a pulsing feature.
Letting out a sigh Altair bent down and gripped the strap to his bag and slipped it onto his shoulder with half-lidded eyes, pocketing his gun before moving over to the door, opening it. Glancing back to look about the house once more before stepping out and shutting the door.
And now all that I do is go through the infected areas in search for food, since the BASEs have become very few in the past few weeks. Stepping down the steps he rose a hand and shoved an infected aside when they darted in his direction, twisting himself once he had a good grasp on their face and shoved them behind himself.
A sickening 'crack' sounding behind himself before raising his hands to grip the hood to his white jacket, hoisting it over his head to obscure the view of his eyes before stepping out into the 'light'.
According to the news the main reason - the one to blame - for this 'outbreak' was a man by the name of Alex Mercer. Personally Altair couldn't blame this 'monster' for doing what he'd done, for whatever reason, but for it to take away his dear Maria...
Pushing the thought aside the hooded man shook his head and turned the corner, walking through Upper Eastside with a soft sigh as he glanced around. This was once a nice place to live, now it was covered and painted in blood and gore. Flesh hung from certain areas, corpses with tattered clothing.
He remembered when he'd moved there, when it was lively and all was as peaceful as it could be.
I can't say I blame that Mercer person for what he'd done, releasing Greene and then most of the population being infected. Altair turned to glance over his shoulder once he heard a feral growl. Only to see what he'd been seeing plenty of times. A 'Hunter,' again...third time this week...
It scared his friends - who were once alive - that he'd taken this so well, that he hadn't panicked and that he'd agreed with this happening as if it was only natural.
But these 'Hunters' were just getting annoying.
Slowly he reached for his pistol, furrowing his brows before his eyes darted to the side to see a small child stumble. Soon seeing a first stage infected chase after the tyke. Gritting his teeth he ran forth, toward the Hunter before dropping and skidding under the beast.
Honey-brown spheres flickered before he twisted himself to get on his stomach, pushing up and hurrying towards the screaming girl who was screaming, "Mama! Mama!"
Biting his lower lip he veered over his shoulder to see the large infected regain its senses from the sudden escape its prey had made and bounded toward him with its mouth parted with a shriek, one that had the tanned man cringe before looking forth.
To then see that the child had been grabbed and was squirming to escape the human-like thing's grasp.
Finally reaching into his pocket he whipped his gun out and placed his right hand under the handle, closing his right eye and aiming before pulling the trigger.
A loud bang and screech rang about the area, the child being dropped, hiccupping and rubbing her eyes with her small balled up fists. Letting out a quick, relieved, exhale before turning smartly on his heel and pumping a few rounds into the 'Hunter' and watched as the beast's blood spattered and spread about on the streets.
Letting his shoulders fall lax Altair swallowed before panting softly. Damn the crashes that happens to a body after the adrenaline kicks in and goes away.
Turning his gaze back to the child the hooded male moved over, crouching down to her level and offering her his hand. "...hey, it's safe now."
Her head rose, looking hopeful before her green hues widened in horror, tilting her head back to stare up at the roof of a building. Black pigtails falling back and raising a hand to point up at said structure.
Glancing over his shoulder Altair's eyes locked onto a figure on the roof.
Tall, a brown hoodie, leather jacket, white shirt, simple denim jeans, normal black shoes...
But he noticed those icy eyes staring back at them, trendils swarming over the man's arms to form claws before he leapt down and landed with a cloud of dust surrounding him a mere second after impact.
Lowering his sights Altair noted the crater that formed where the man now stood, and rose his sights to look the other in the eyes with his own narrowing. Reaching for the child the brunet pulled her close while moving to stand.
"...drop the kid."
The hooded man blinked and looked down at the frightened toddler, seeing tears form in her eyes. Of course, this was the infamous Bio-weapon wasn't it? Returning his attention to the other the tanned male scowled.
"No. She has done nothing to you, neither have I, now leave us be." was all he gave as a response while tightening his hold reassuringly on the trembling form. "If you don't I'll make you leave."
A tisk came as a reward to his threat, the man moving forth with slow, confident, strides. Whatever this man wanted with the child it didn't seem pleasant, especially with the murderous aura emitting from him.
Even when an infected human stumbled toward him from the side the shapeshifting man simply swung his hand to the side and cleaved it cleanly in half.
When a claw reached for the child the girl slammed her eyes shut. "MOMMY!"
Bang.
Altair held his pistol up, eyes narrowed and seemed unphased even when he watched the man's arm shift from what had been claws to a shield then back to a normal - human - arm.
"...I warned you," he simply stated.
A furious look was on the pale man's face, his eyes showed it more than his face, which had Altair almost falter in his threatening pose. Holding the child in one arm and standing with that side away from the other.
"You'll regret this, you little ass." was growled before the hooded man turned and ran towards a building wall then up it before jumping, flipping, then landing on his two feet and sauntering off.
That was the first day I met the 'number one terrorist'.
Took me down to the river
So I could drown, drown, drown
(Goin' Down, Three Days Grace)
extra note: Altair may seem a bit out of character - and so may Alex - I'm replaying AC (AGAIN) and began playing [Prototype] so...yeah... And I planned for Alty to be this way for a reason so please do have patience with me...
