You guys remember that fic about Ezio's memory loss I wrote a while back? If you do, great. If you don't, oh well, go read it. I suddenly got this random itch to write another story similar. But because I ALWAYS use Ezio (Ezio: And I'm getting tired of the nonsense...) I decided that this time around I'll poke some fun at Malik and Altair. (Malik: You can't be serious... - Altair: *getting ready to run as far away as possible*) NO ESCAPES! *locks the door* Alright, so lets get this started off, lemme know what you think guys!
It was quiet. Quiet, dry, stuffy, and hot as it always was in the bureau. Malik sighed and rubbed the sweat from his brow as he continued to stare down at the map on his desk and the quill in his hand. He had once again suffered from a bad night's sleep, where -despite his exhaustion- he couldn't seem to keep his mind at ease. It was hard to fall asleep, and sometimes when he was semi-conscious he saw from the corner of his eye Kadar fighting, bloody and holding a wound on his stomach.
That's when he heard a thud of someone landing on the floor just outside the room. He didn't even look up from his work, knowing it was just another assassin passing through. Just about to ask for his plan's approval. Regardless, Malik paid little mind to the man and listened to him absently.
"And are you sure that you will be able to get close enough to take him out quietly?" He questioned.
"If I'm correct, it shouldn't be too hard. The man is arrogent and believes he does not need guards around his chambers. I will sneak in when the patrol passes and kill him before anyone can notice."
Malik sighed and looked up. "Fine." He passed him a feather and reclaimed the quill in his grasp. "Try not to get yourself too wounded, I would prefer not to have to clean up the blood."
"Thank you." The novice said, ignoring his last comment before leaving.
With this, Malik continued to work on the map, trying to draw out the structures. Although the task of writing had been difficult once, as his lack of a hand made it impossible to hold down the parchment, he simply got used to a paper weight to help with the task.
Another thump of someone landing in the bureau.
"Nawfal?"
No reply.
Malik walked around his desk and started towards the doorway, unsure what to think of the lack of an answer. When he came out to the entrance, he pulling himself outside and looked around. No one had landed in the courtyard below, so he figured that maybe they left. Clearly this must have been the case. Shaking his head and grumbling "Foolish novice..." to himself he turned back towards the entrance to the bureau.
As he crouched to drop himself in, something crashed against his head. He was sent forward to fall down to the foor of the courtyard, pain throbbing throughout his entire body. Through darkening vision, he stared up at the two silloettes standing in the entrance. And listened to the voices.
"You said he wouldn't be harmed!"
"It was your own fault. Now get rid of him, before anything goes wrong."
"Yes..."
Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he let them fall closed, and allowed darkness and cold to take his pain away...
Altair swung his sword out as his opponent moved to block the advance. Even though they weilded training equipment, the edges dull, they still packed enough force to bruise skin or break bones. In training, it wasn't uncommon for the less experienced to need some form of care afterwards.
Then from behind, he heard Sahl call him over. He looked to his sparring partner with slight disappointment that they could not finish the match and put the training weapon away as he walked over to the fellow Assassin who stood at the wall dark eyes blank and unreadable.
"What?" Altair asked, crossing his arms.
Sahl straightened. "Al Mualim wants to speak with you. Something about Jerusalem."
To this Altair begun to worry. He knew that if it had anything to do with that city then he would have to deal with Malik's insults and critisim. Nothing he had to look forward to. Sighing, he nodded and walked inside. He just stepped up the stairs and came to the master without much said.
Al Mualim was staring out the window when he arrived, and turned around to face him. "Altair, I know you just returned from Acres but something's come up."
"What came up?" He questioned emotionlessly. Somehow since his previous arguements with the older, he was a little more causious. He guarded his words, but should he be yelled at he would answer with equal vemon in his tone. "Another target?"
"No." The old man sighed heavily. "I wish it were something of that nature. But I've just recieved word that Malik has gone missing."
To this, Altair was swamped with questions. Malik missing? It seemed like an oximoron to him, as a man like Al-Sapf doesn't just vanish. Did some assassin come in with an assignment and had to speak to him only to find he wasn't there? What if Malik was just buying incense or some sort of supplies and hadn't come back yet? And should he be worried? He could handle himself, right?
"You're shocked." Al Mualim stated, reading it right off the younger's face.
"I am..." Altair confirmed. "Malik doesn't seem like the kind of man who would just disappear."
"He hasn't been in the bureau for days. I would have sent another, but I didn't think the job would have been suitable for anyone else." He explained. "Go to Jerusalm, see if you can't find him anywhere."
"Alright." Altair agreed and left, mind still swarming with questions.