Disclaimer: Ubisoft own Assassins creed and all character associated with it.

Prologue

She entered the two-story warehouse with cautious steps, not afraid of what she would find inside but hoping to keep her own presence quiet until the last possible moment. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her cheek and mingle with the soft leather fabric of her jacket. Wearing black leather in the height of the dog days of summer wasn't a good idea but she liked to present a certain image, one she felt would be in keeping with her grim tasks.

Her eyes flicked to the metal staircase in the centre of the room but she made no move towards it; she had to be sure the ground floor was empty. Moving behind a ubiquitous pile of boxes she glanced around the small open plan first floor, nothing here but crates and curiously an old bathtub sitting against the far wall.

She heard a car horn sound angrily seconds before two men started a loud exchange of insults, she sighed quietly. It seemed even the locals temper was being affected by this accursed heat wave. Then a sound from above, possibly a chair being moved and all sounds from the outside world were instantly blocked out.

Her movements were silent as she crossed the room and placed a foot on the first step. A semi automatic 9mm berretta in each hand, each barrel had been modified to allow the use of a silencer which she had decided against using today. This was an industrial part of the city where gunshots could easily be mistaken for any number of other less deadly sounds and besides she wanted the people she was approaching to hear her fire, to react to the deafening bang before they reached for their own weapons. In her line of work even a millisecond could be the difference between life and death.

A voice from overhead speaking in her native Maninka tongue and not the French of their colonial conquerors, the assassin grinned, 'Good for you love never settle for what you have been given.' Her fingers flexed on the handle of the gun in her left hand an old injury made this her weak hand. On the fifth step now and depending on where they were in the room her head would be visible to them soon; she would have to speed things up. Climbing the next few steps backwards she took in as much of the room as she could, they were together on the far side of the room looking at something on a screen.

They probably weren't expecting to be targets, these were information people and not active field agents but they should have known better. They were the nerve centre of the whole operation, the cogs which kept the wheels grinding. Taking out these three would leave their people in Western Africa stumbling around like blind dogs for months.

Her body stiffened as it always did just before action, her heartbeat was hammering out of control. She had heard of assassins who could kill and never have their own beats per second go above 65 but she wasn't one of them. She welcomed the increased pulse and the surge of adrenaline it brought with it. Placing the left hand gun back in the holster she clipped it in place she climbed the last step and stood behind them.

Still oblivious to the danger that loomed behind them they chatted and pointed excitedly at the screen. She fired at the woman first, one bullet in the back of the head no suffering and no time to fear what was coming. The second man fell before he had fully turned and the third was reaching into his waistband when her 9mm hollow point tore into his skull and ended his struggles.

She moved across the floor to their bodies and closed the lid on the laptop which had so engrossed her targets only seconds before; pulling out the wires she tucked it under her arm. Moving around the desk past the bodies she whispered, "Be at peace now your battle is over."

Stepping out into the blinding sunlight she pulled her sunglasses down from her dark hair and dropped them onto her face and moved into the deafening insanity that was Dakar in the rush hour allowing the crowds to engulf and shield her.

The old man sat behind his antique desk with his head in his hands ignoring the glare on the screen in front of him. Another cell had been wiped out, this time in Senegal. In the space of five weeks they had lost three cells in Europe and now this one in Africa. Something had to be done to stem the tide of recent losses and he had sent for his best man with a view to doing that very thing. A sharp rap at the door had him lifting his head, "Come."

The young man entered the room with his usual fast stride and an air of confidence which belied his age. "You sent for me?"

He gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk and slid a grey folder across the surface, "Take a look at this and tell me what you think." Lighting a cigarette he gave him time to peruse the documents.

"It looks like they are all being carried out by the same operative, they have the same MO."

He nodded, "It's going to be your job to find him and stop him."

"There is no information about the operative here so where do you suggest I begin?"

"I suggest you follow in his footsteps. It's not a ghost we are facing here he must leave something behind. Talk to the people in the hotels and the areas surrounding the hits, you know the routine better than I do."

Glancing at the window behind his boss' head he noticed it had started raining, "I'll get the team ready and leave for Venice tonight."

"I don't have to tell you we need this done quickly; we are losing people faster than we can recruit them."

He stopped on his way to the door and without turning back he replied. "It will be done."