Assassin's Creed: Sicarii
Prologue
As the harsh, midday sun beat mercilessly on his face, Ezekiel, son of Amon, pulled his cloak's hood over his head and pushed off the stone wall he had been leaning against for the past hour. His muscles flexed in preparation and he focused his eyes on the sudden movement two dozen paces away. The double doors from the synagogue across the street opened up to reveal an opulent man conversing with a pair of similarly dressed citizens, each nodding at his words. He placed his hands over his protruding stomach and wished his companions well. Taking a deep breath, the tax collector hobbled down the steps of the synagogue and walked into the crowded dirt road.
The main streets of Jerusalem were filled with people going about their daily routines, and following the portly man, Ezekiel entered the flow of traffic that was heading towards the Roman Praetorium. Ezekiel found it painfully easy to track the tax collector. The traitor's gait was slow and he held his chin up like a proud fool. But Ezekiel had to time his movements properly in order to mask his true intentions. Keeping his head down, he squeezed past a trio of vendors offering fresh-cut herb plants and stepped to within arm's reach of his target.
His task was simple: assassinate the Roman sympathizer and leave undetected. Ezekiel had already mapped out exactly where he would finalize the act, and yet it was hard not to carry out the deed earlier than planned. The only information he was given on the target was a detailed physical description and the manner in which the execution should be done—by the blade. Such was any fate when one was labeled as a "Traitor of the Jews."
Right when he was preparing to attack, the tax collector unexpectedly stopped to shake the dirt from his sandals, but Ezekiel kept walking forward. He stealthily pulled his small dagger from concealment and acted as if to step around the obese man. Ezekiel placed his left hand on the tax collector's shoulder and muttered an apology for brushing up against him. Keeping his gaze on his target's eyes, Ezekiel plunged the dagger in between the folds of fat of the traitor's stomach and chest. The blade pierced between flesh and ribs, finding the heart. All in all, the assassination took place inside the span of a single breath. The tax collector's eyes widened with shock and he gave a short series of grunts before beginning to sway.
Ezekiel quickly retracted the dagger and returned it to his shoulder-slung holster. Keeping the man upright with his left hand, he waited for a pair of seconds before stepping past him. Ezekiel made it only four strides before hearing his target collapse to the ground. A woman cried out and all around him people turned to look at the fallen victim. The cloud of dust was just beginning to settle when the pool of blood soaked the dirt around the traitor.
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd and Ezekiel joined in. He pointed to the dying man and shook his head in disgust, trying his best to fit his reaction to the likes of others. Several Jewish citizens bent down and struggled to get the tax collector on his back.
They rolled him onto his side, but when his limbs flapped lifelessly and the crowd saw his blood-soaked robe, another woman yelled. "Sicarii! Sicarii!"
The gathered people hissed and gasped and their eyes began searching one another accusingly. Then panic rose among them when a pair of Roman centurions stepped forward from the far end of the circle. Each had their hands on the swords, and the crowd began to scatter, fearing the accusations and swift retribution that would surely follow.
Ezekiel walked backward out of the ring of onlookers and was soon heading back down the street the other way, leaving the confused and angered Romans to clean up the mess he had made. He remained blended with the flow of people for a quarter of an hour. When the road eventually curved to the right, he ducked down a darkened alley, shaded by the rising walls at his sides. He looked up to find the bright streak of open sky roughly four spans across and knew the distance would be similar for the previous six alleys.
Stepping over to an opened window a story up, he leaped into the air, kicking off of the west wall. He braced himself against the east wall with his left leg and continued back towards the window, bouncing from wall to wall. He reached out and his forearms found purchase on the flattened sill. Ezekiel pulled himself up and quickly turned back towards the east wall. Using all the strength in his muscles, he propelled his body over to the rooftop of the eastern building and grabbed hold of the grimy stone. His torso smacked against the wall and nearly knocked the air out of his lungs, but he climbed over the ledge to meet the sun once again.
Resting on his haunches, he eyed the distance to the western building. His first estimate was only off by a fingerbreadth and he launched himself onto the adjacent roof. Landing softly, he moved swiftly over the mix of ceramic and stone, leaping between alleys until he came to the intersection of the assassination. The last building had a slightly slanted rooftop and he bent down and perched at the edge of the roof, staying in the shadow of an old abandoned watchtower.
A new crowd had gathered around the tax collector's body. A few Jewish Pharisees were standing with arms raised, praying to Jehovah, while more Roman guards had ordered away the casual passerby. A Roman wearing a unique, red robe bent down and felt the traitor's head, neck and finally his wound. He shook his head and stood up. He exchanged a look with a centurion and the guard pointed to a random pair of Jews walking by. Looking worried, they hesitantly approached. The Roman centurion ordered the Jews to carry the dead body off in the red-robed man's wake.
As the pair of unwilling hands fumbled with the overweight tax collector, Ezekiel let a sardonic smile spread across his face. The goal of any Sicarii was to be like a breeze among the trees: present, yet lost in the chaos of the moment. Satisfied, he let out a breath. Justice has been done.
Taking one last look at the scene coming to a close, Ezekiel secured his cloak around his waist and started for the safehouse on the other side of the city, leaping from roof to roof.