Hey there! So, I'm new to writing Fanfiction, (Wrote one story before) and especially new to Assassin's Creed fanfic :) -cough especially men on men relationships cough-
But I love Altair/Malik so I decided to try it out :D - please give me a try, don't be too harsh !
...yes, expect there to be spelling/gamar issues, (SORRY) it's late, I'm tired and.. not a very good editor -_-
BUT please enjoy the best you can !
I got the story IDEA from one of my favorite movies Fight Club. It's not based on that movie, though, unfortanetly.
SO, anyway, please read and review?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Assassin's creed, Altair or Malik. But I'll accept any them as a gift any day? ;)
A tall, well-built man swung a key in his left hand carelessly as he traveled down long pavement stairs to a single metal door. There were Atleast twenty young men around the ages 23 to 35 following behind like wolf's trailing after their pack leader.
The leading man wore a simple white hoody that covered his face completely in the shadows of the small stairway, and baggy black jeans. He wasn't the largest in the group, which made one assume he was either the smartest or the toughest of them. The sizes of the men variety. Some were lanky, some heavy. Some muscular, some scrawny. But all came for one reason.
The leader used the key he was carrying to unlock the beaten up metal door. Opening the door and stepping in, he had to hold back a cringe at the smell. It wasn't exactly the best 4 star hotel, but it always worked for them. Wasn't like they were planning on sleeping in here, anyway… Atleast those who had a choice in the matter.
The room was cold, and as dark as hell. The man walked into the room, in the centre was a single string hanging from the roof-which anyone but him wouldn't have known the exact location of in the darkness. Tugging it, a small click sounded in the room, a light illuminating the area.
It was large, real large. Has to be, too, otherwise it'd have no use to them. The ground was a smile grey pavement that hurt a hole fuck of a lot when slammed against, as most men around him knew all too well. There were no windows. No, they were too far underground for there to be any kind of window. They needed to be, to keep the sound away from people who could possible hear them. The smell was bloody awful too, but kept you awake as it got late in the night- not that you'd need help with that. And if you did, the cold worked well as an adrenaline booster.
It wasn't fancy, comfy, clean, warm and it sure as hell wasn't their home. But the men gathered here any way. It gave them purpose.
"So," One of the larger men piped up, rubbing his arms to keep them warm. A futile effort, if you asked him, your arms would only feel colder as you let go of them. "Altair, who's going to fight first?"
The question was directed at him, he knew- for he was the only one named such- but he ignored the brute anyway, walking around the area. He stopped his pacing, and gave a short glare to the group staring at him.
Automatically, the men straightened up to a line. Altair smirked, pulling the hood of his head. He had these boys whipped- and he knew it.
"Who's going to start the fight?" He pondered out loud to the silent group of muscles in front of him. "Well. We have a rule in this…" He paused to find the right word. "club. And seeing as though last time I counted about… I don't know, fifteen?" His eyes searched the group of now roughly twenty that stood before him. "That means: there are some new kids here this week." He snapped his golden eyes purposely at a nooby, who shrunk with fright. "And we all know what the newbie's have to do, right boys?"
"Newbie's fight first." An automatic response. Nice.
Altair said no more. He wasn't one to talk unless it was completely necessary - or if he deemed it so. He turned, grabbing a single worn wooden chair and sunk into it. Finding a relaxing position with his head leaning against the back of it. And he watched.
He watched as the experienced men weeded out the newbie's, forcing an eager bulky, shorter one to fight a slightly nervous tall and lanky one.
He decided to do this when he quit the company. This, meaning fight. Don't get him wrong. It wasn't like all they did was come down to a smelly, cold, dirty room so that smelly dirty men can smash their fists against each other. Well, sort of… but no. He created this club, Fight Club. Yes, they did fight, but people like them needed it. It calmed them, took out the stiffness when they went home to their wives, took out the bite when they scolded their children. It was a needed necessity in the average human life. Human's were made with an urge to cause violence. This club was a way to satisfy those urges.
At first, he only started it for himself. His job in The Company was nothing more than… assassinating people. And when 5 years of your life is spent killing people, fighting, murdering… you can't just go back to a normal life. He had started getting into fights more and more. It didn't even matter where he was; job interview, bar, strip house, bathroom, grocery store. He just couldn't get the urge out of his system. The urge to cause pain. And thus, the club was born. It started out with only a few people with a share of aggressiveness and a bond of secrecy. Secrecy that didn't last very long. Altair was surprised to find how many people starting showing up each week, how many people shared the same burden as he did. And as more people started showing up every week - he started fight less.
He still fought, otherwise there'd be no point in even doing this every week. But, being the head of everything, the boss. It made people more afraid to challenge him. He would either have to challenge someone himself or wait till one of the idiotic newbie's tried to take his spot as boss.
He was the leader for a fucking reason. The idiots.
But, there was always one. One brave enough, or stupid enough or maybe just had enough confidence in their skills to challenge him.
Like tonight.
The night was dragging on, and Altair wondered if the sun was coming up in the surface. Rubbing his face, he pondered on the newbie's.
There was quite a few interesting ones. One was a brute whom beat his opponent in a matter of 2 minutes. A short amount of time in this club. But, that was to be expected of a brute his size, nothing special. The other one was surprisingly small. Not so that you'd claim him to be, but his build was slightly smaller than Altair's own. He was darkly tanned, but wasn't black, so Altair guessed he was probably Mexican or maybe even Arabic, like Altair himself.
What interested Altair about the man was the way he fought. Most would fight with force, no real style or skill, just an aim to hit their opponents with as much strength as they could. But, this man moved with skill that no doubt was from experience. He dodged easily and moved swiftly and silently. Much like how Altair was trained back in The Company.
What interested Altair even more of the man was when he brought himself out in the circle, crossing it so that he was right in front of Altair, and boldly stated,
"Fight me."
SO did you enjoy? hope so,
cause another chappy will be coming very soon! hold on tight for this story! :)
Uhm, on an after thought, if anyone does read this story - I'll play the game:
"What was your favorite line?"
PLEASE REVIEW! :D
