Author's Note: I did not invent Assassin's Creed or the character Altaïr. This is just a story about a minor bad day of Altaïr's. Imagine trying to reach an assassination target in the game but you keep getting messed up by all the lesser citizens (drunks, beggars, and madmen to be exact).
The Wrath of Altaïr
A man walked around and around in a dark alleyway, rambling loudly to himself, but his speech was so slurred that even he himself couldn't understand it. Without seeming to have a destination, he continued wandering through the dingy, dirty alleyway until he tripped over his long, filthy cape and fell flat on his face. His bald head struck the ground hard, but he saw no stars, as his vision was already blurred from all the drink.
He quickly scrambled back up, but tripped on his cape again, and again, down he went. Swearing loudly, he tried again with the same result. Several more times he tried this, each ending with his face flat on the ground. Finally, he stood up, wobbled a bit, and caught his balance. Not four seconds after he had accomplished this, a heavily armed man in a white robe and hood sped through the alleyway, sacking the drunk and knocking him down yet again.
Seven soldiers, swords drawn, followed the white robed man, one of which stepped on the poor drunk's arm. When they had passed, the man scrambled back to his feet in a rage. Using the alley wall as support, he stood, fuming and spitting out swear words that would make even the most seasoned sailor cringe.
Nearly twenty minutes he stood there, until he heard footsteps to his left. Turning to look, he saw the armed white robed and hooded man limping down the alleyway, clutching his right forearm, which appeared to have a large gash in it. He passed the drunk and made his way to a set of nearby stairs.
The drunk shoved with all his might, and down the stairs went the white robed man. He rolled out into the street, and knocked over two passing town guards. Shouting about infidels, they both drew their swords and attacked. After receiving a gash on his left arm to match the one on his right, the white robed man quickly dispatched the two guards and walked back up the stairs, a murderous look in his eyes.
He grabbed the drunk by his filthy shirt's collar with both hands, and threw him against the alley wall. He then lifted the man by his shirt collar once again and threw him against the other wall. For several minutes, he continued this, slamming the drunk against this wall, then that. Finally, he lifted the whimpering drunk by the neck, and threw him down the same set of stairs he had just come up.
He heard several satisfying snaps and cracks before the body finally came to a rest in the middle of the street. He stood there panting for a moment or two before hearing more screams and shouts about infidels. The man swore under his breath and took off back down the alleyway.