I've had this idea stuck in my head for quite a while. It's not exactly original, per se, but it sounded like fun to write. I just really like the idea of Altaïr butting heads with a snarky, 21st century feminist. I think the dynamics and cultural differences will be really fun to play around with.
Disclaimer: Assassins Creed belongs to its rightful owners. Which I am not one of. I own Ella, Jack, and Amy. And Cardigan Guy. And Drunk Asshole Guy...Okay, I own pretty much all the characters in here, minus Altaïr. Shut up.
"The first Crusade ended in 1099, when Jerusalem was captured, after the Battle of Ascalon. Before this battle, the Fatimid Caliphate of Egypt had controlled Jerusalem, raising an army of..."
Ella chewed on the eraser of her pencil, staring off into space. All throughout high school, her teachers had ranted and raved about how so much more would be expected of them in college. Yet, here she was, watching the same movie about the Crusades as she did in eleventh grade history.
The narrator droned on, standing on a set meant to look like a museum, motioning to decrepit pieces of weaponry and armor. The eraser popped off of her pencil, and Ella flicked it across the aisle, nailing her friend, Jack, in the head.
"Wha'?" He lifted his head from the makeshift pillow of his arms, and blinked at her sleepily. "'S the movie over?" He slurred, staring in her general direction with an unfocused gaze.
"I wish," Ella snorted mournfully. Jack gazed at her for a beat longer, taking a minute to comprehend what she'd said, before gracelessly dropping his head back into his arms. Poor dude hadn't slept properly in days, thanks to midterms.
The professor glared at Ella from his desk, pointedly clearing his throat. She rolled her eyes, and went back her "notes", which was actually a grocery list and a series of tally marks for every time the narrator gushed about something being "truly fascinating".
She'd given up, because it just wasn't worth it to pay attention.
Ella doodled until the end of class, when the prof flicked the lights back on, and muted the dramatic credits music to remind them that they were still his bitches until the big hand was at the two and the little hand was at the six.
"A reminder that your midterm paper is due in a week, and taking notes on our class activities," he shot Ella a pointed look. "May be a wise choice, when you finally sit down to write your paper an hour before it's due. I'd be a fool to expect any more of you slackers." He muttered the last bit under his breath, glaring at the half-asleep back row.
"Class is dismissed. Remember that this paper will determine whether some of you pass or not," He paused, as a crumpled wad of paper flew past him into the trash can. "And I look forward to seeing those individuals next semester." He ground out, before looking at a drooling Jackson with a hint of sorrowful resignation.
Ella slung her bag over her shoulder, kicking Jack in the shin as she stood. "Wake-y, wake-y, dumbass."
"Why do you hate me," Came the muffled reply.
"I'm actually writing an essay on that for my English final. I'll let you read it when I'm done. I'm thinking of titling it, "Jack Grayson, Patron Deity of the Assholes". What do you think?"
"I'm thinking that I won't go on that exchange trip to Scotland with you next fall if you keep verbally abusing me. Isn't there some kind of battered friend shelter?" Jack yawned, levering himself out of his seat, and stretching.
"Quit being such a baby. I'd invite you to come peruse the library with me, but they have a poster with your face that says no admittance. I think goading those two philosophy students into fist-fighting each other was the last straw for the staff." Ella deadpanned. Really, the people she was friends with.
"It was for my sociology class! I got two people whose core values both included pacifism to beat the crap out of each other over a tree metaphor! It was fascinating, and educational! I got an A on that paper!" He exclaimed defensively as she pushed through the glass double-doors to the research center.
"Good-bye, Jack. Try to remember not to get into any strangers' vans while I'm gone, okay?" She disappeared into a labyrinth of bookcases, ignoring the indignant reply he half-shouted after her. She had books to find. Boring or not, she was going to get an awesome grade on this Crusades paper if it killed her.
Half an hour into browsing, and several texts from Jack later (no, dish soap is not an acceptable toilet-cleaning agent unless you want to be cleaning suds off your ass for the next week or two), Ella was ready to call it quits.
She'd turned to leave the section, when a dusty cough caught her attention. A frail figure in a pale yellow cardigan was leaning against the end of the bookshelf, motioning her over. Or having a stroke. Ella wasn't a med student. She couldn't tell the difference between these things.
Okay, okay, she was coming. Just stop flailing at her!
"Interested in the Crusades, child?" The dude, Vincent, his nametag said, croaked in her general direction. Ella winced. She was not a child, she was twenty years old for chrissakes! She was not an a patronizable age anymore!
Instead of retorting with a remark about which graveyard he belonged to, she smiled. "Yeah, I haven't found much on the shelves, though."
Sometimes, if you feigned genuine interest, the librarians would dig up their personal favorites, or let you look at the ones they "technically aren't supposed to let students have". Suckers.
"Ah, I think I have something you might be interested in. Wait here a moment." He hobbled off to the back room, where they kept the grown-up books- the ones they didn't want drooled on by students, like the plastic-coated, kidsafe copies of "So You Want to Read Shakespeare".
Ella was about ready to leave, because honestly, it'd been twentyminutes, who takes that long to get a book off a shelf? The backroom was only an eight-by-eight closet. Ella should know (come to think of it, the things the librarians let her get away with was a little concerning).
Alas, just as she was turning to find the exit, cardigan guy emerged, dusting off a small, leather-bound book.
"I think I've found just what you're looking for. Here, take this." Wobbling slightly, he reached out to hand her the book. Ella quickly accepted it, a bit scared he would tip over.
"Thank you, sir. I'll try to have it back to you by Monday." She smiled, tucking it in her bag.
"Nonsense, it was in a donation box- not even part of the system yet. If you take a shining to it, no one will notice if it disappears," He winked, brushing his hands off on his slacks. "Take good care of it, and I'm sure it will be quite useful."
"Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate it." Ella had turned to leave, but stopped short when she heard him call out to her again.
"Do take care of it, dear. Old books can have quite a bit of life in them, if you give them the chance." He waved a bony hand at her. "Off with you, now."
Ella opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, before exiting the library, unsure of how to even respond, because what?
Ella flopped onto the bed in her dorm room, sighing contentedly as she flung her bag in the general vicinity of her desk, and buried her face in her pillow. Why do homework when she could lay around doing nothing? There was just no argument. A nap was definitely in order.
A soothing calm descended over her as she drifted off.
She was unstoppable. A predator, soaring, unseen through the night. A ghost. The night was cool and dark, and the skies were clear. White billowed behind her as she dropped next to her target, unnoticed.
The distant cry of an eagle masked the faint gurgle as her blade sank into the vulnerable throat of the man marked for death.
She turned a single feather over in her palm, sticky with hot, fresh blood.
A finger was a small price to pay, to cleanse the world. This rat would no longer poison the lives around him. They were freed.
She disappeared as silently as she came, a flash of unblemished white disappearing into the sky.
Ella strained to open her eyes, surprised to find that the light streaming through the window was a muted orange. Was it already evening? Geez, she'd been out for a long time.
Groping around for her cell phone, she finally found it in the pocket of the hoodie hanging off of her bed post. 5:45 pm.
She groaned and stretched her arms above her head, joints popping in a way that was absolutely heavenly after sitting in a lecture day all day. Ella contemplated her options briefly. To go back to sleep, to screw around on the internet...to grab some coffee with a friend?
Her eyes found her bag next to the tiny desk, and, oh yeah, there was that old-ass book the librarian had given her. Curiosity set into her chest, and she padded over, seeking out the dusty, crumbling leather cover of the book. The pages stuck when she went to open it, and Ella gritted her teeth and pried the covers apart, trying not to damage the pages.
The stick released satisfyingly, and she brushed her fingers over the cover, noticing for the first time the odd symbol on the cover, almost shaped like a teardrop. Somehow, it almost looked...familiar. She felt a heavy sense of recognition, but had no idea why.
"I am absolutely positive I have never seen you before," She glared at the symbol. "Stop messing with my head."
Ella shook her head, feeling kind of...fuzzy. Maybe she needed to pilfer some adderall off Jack. Illegal, yes. But very, very helpful.
She sent Jack a quick request for some more of the precious drug. She wasn't going to be able to write her paper like this. Confusion vibrated in the back of her skull.
Where am I? What am I doing? What is this thing?
Which was ridiculous. She was in her dorm room and Washington State, procrastinating her homework. It was her fourth year living in this hole, it was hardly unfamiliar.
Still, the feeling persisted, as if trying to take on a life of its own.
"I definitely need some adderall." Ella muttered, flipping through the pages of the book- and, what the hell. This book was about assassins. How was this relevant to the Crusades? She just needed a nice, vague overview of the time period. Just enough to BS a few pages, and site print source. That always added a couple points.
Why does this book exist? It will compromise the brotherhood.
Ella blinked.
"What?"
The brotherhood. Will be compromised. I need to destroy it.
Destroying books was a no-no. Especially old-as-dirt books that creepy old librarians gave to you from the super-secret backroom.
I must interrogate this...librarian.
Seriously, what the hell? There would be no interrogating, and the thoughts of pressing a blade to the poor dude's throat and threatening him with death were disturbing and unacceptable. Ella ordered her brain to stop.
Why do I not remember obtaining this book? Why can I not control my body?
Ella sighed, and tossed the book on her pillow. Of all the things that could go wrong during midterms, schizophrenia was one of the worst possible things. She did not need an extra voice upstairs, arguing with her about test answers. She ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn't bothered putting it up today, it just wasn't worth the effort. Instead, the blonde waves hung over her shoulders, stopping just below her breasts.
Long hair? Breasts? I've gone mad, I do not have a woman's body.
Disgust ebbed at her brain, and she scowled. Was it just her, or was that a hint of sexism?
"Look, buddy," Ella snarked. "I am a woman, and this is my brain and my body, and if you've got a problem with that, you can kindly fuck off. I don't have time for sexist hallucinations. I've got tests to not study for."
In an act of defiance, Ella reached down, and cupped her breasts, squeezing a bit. Why not? they were hers, and they were awesome, if she did say so herself. Shock and horror was the faint response.
"Um, Ella?" Ella's head whipped around. She hadn't noticed the door open."What are you doing?" Her roommate, Amy, stood in the doorway, an eyebrow raised.
"Oh, just, uh, feeling myself up. Boobs are great, you know?" A faint blush crept its way into her face. She cleared her throat. "So, how was the self-defense seminar?"
"You know what, I'm not even surprised," Amy murmured under her breath. "The seminar was pretty useless. The lady hosting it had no idea what she was talking about. Couldn't even explain how to get out of a half-nelson when I asked her.
"She just kept telling us to scream and bite, and carry pepper spray with us. Not to go out alone. That kind of thing."
Pepper spray? What is pepper spray? Where am I?
Shut up, Ella thought. I'm having a conversation, here.
"That's kind of...kind of pathetic, actually. How is she qualified to teach that thing?" Ella snorted.
"She's not. Budget cuts, you know? 'Cause it's not like they're swimming in all the cash they make off of us or anything." Amy huffed in response, falling backwards onto her bed on the other side of the room.
"Ah, but if they used our tuition money to benefit the school, they'd have nothing to fund their "business trips" to europe."
"Fucking upper class pricks," Amy spat. She was particularly bitter about the distribution of wealth in the nation, working two jobs and drowning in student loans.
Ella wasn't much better off, herself.
Where is your husband? Am I in a harem?
Ella choked, sputtering to collect herself. What the fuck do you mean, husband? I'm only twenty, for chrissakes! You know what, no. This is ridiculous. Get out of my head, you archaic ass.
Know your place, woman! The voice snapped, irritation burning in his words.
...Wait, his? Since when did the voice have a gender? But...no, it was definitely a masculine voice. As if it was developing strength and personality the longer it stayed.
Oh my god, it's like you're a caveman! News flash, there's this little thing we call gender equality!
I care not for your whims, woman! Be silent.
You're the one in my head, buddy. If you don't like it, then get the fuck out!
You dare disrespect-
A hand waved in front of Ella's face, and she snapped to attention
"You okay, there?" Amy said, sounding a bit concerned. Her brow crinkled slightly as Ella shook her head, trying to clearing her mind.
"Yeah, sorry. It's just been a long day, you know?" She chuckled, scrubbing her hands over her face. Amy nodded sympathetically.
"Get some sleep. You look like hell."
How does one "look like hell"?
"Thanks," Ella replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
"Just being honest, hon. Maybe you should hit a party tonight to take the edge off the stress- cut loose, make out with a stranger, get hammered. It's Friday- what could it hurt?"
You plan to whore yourself out to strangers? That is not surprisingly, you are hardly a virtuous woman.
Shut up, no one asked you.
Such things will not happen under my supervision. Until I regain my body from whatever has happened, you will obey me.
No one asked for your opinion! Butt out, already.
"Yeah, I definitely need to immerse myself in normal college things. I feel like I have this archaic old man in my head, trying to dictate my life."
Amy nodded sympathetically.
"Honey, I am taking you to a party. Whatever your history prof is pulling that's got you so wound up, we are fixing with alcohol. A few beers and a frat boy or two later, and the old man-voice will be heading for the hills." Amy turned turned to dig through the the tiny closet on her half of the room. "Come on, get dressed."
Ella complied, bouncing up from her bed and rooting through her own hole-in-the-wall closet with newfound vigor.
Even whores wear more clothing than you. The voice spat with disapproval.
Well, the voice could suck it. Ella felt awesome. She was wearing black skinny jeans, a pair of knee-high leather boots, and a lowcut, light green tanktop. Amy had insisted she put on some makeup other than a bit of eyeliner and blush, and layers of eyeshadow and foundation stared back at her from the dorm crappy mirror, adding startling dimension to her eyes and face.
She'd even tamed her hair into loose, shapely curls that framed her face and gracefully fell down her back.
Amy had changed into pair of jeggings and a high-cut leather jacket, furthering her aura of badassery. She'd done her make-up to a smokey-eyed perfection, and mussed her chocolate curls to appear slightly windblown.
"We are goddesses," Amy said, turning to her. "Now let's go pound some Jaeger bombs."
The party was loud and crowded, and Ella couldn't help but grin to herself as the bass thrummed in her chest, drowning out any of her thoughts. Or anyone else's. A boy materialized behind her, his hands finding her waist as he leaned over her shoulder.
"Having a good time?"
He holds ill-intention towards you. The voice warned. She ignored it, pointedly.
"What?"
"Do you want to dance?" He shouted over the music.
"No, thanks!" She mouthed back, edging away to find Amy, who had conveniently disappeared.
His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her back to him
"Come on, don't be a prude! I just wanna dance." He rubbed his hips against her, and she snarled, prying his hands off her waist.
"I said no, get off of me." He grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back.
"Is it so bad just to dance with me?"
You need get escape this situation.
You think I don't know that?!
"Get off of me, you're drunk!"
"So what if I am?" His hands slid to her hips, continuing to push them lower.
Break his grip, then aim for his kidney. Ella struggled against him fruitlessly, ignoring the voice.
"Relax, baby." He murmured in her ear.
If you won't listen... The sentence trailed off ominously, but Ella ignored it, floundering.
Suddenly, her arm bent and shot backwards, nailing him low in the gut. When he stumbled back, her body turned to face him, her hand shooting out to wrap around his throat in an unforgiving, solid grip, not squeezing enough to choke, but enough to scare.
"C-...crazy bitch," he sputtered, pushing at her arm. She fought to unclench her hand and retract her limb. Several spectators made noises of concern, eyes flitting between the Ella and the boy, unsure of who was the "bad guy".
Amy appeared in front of her, reaching out to her, grasping her shoulders and drawing her close.
"Ella, are you okay? Talk to me, what happened?" She pulled Ella back, searching her face for signs of trauma.
You need to learn to defend yourself.
"I...I don't know. He wouldn't let go. I don't know. I don't know..." Ella's hands shook, and Amy made a noise of concern, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her away from the scene.
"It's okay, he was just drunk asshole. Want me to bring you home?"
Say yes. The voice bit out.
"No, I'm fine," Ella looked up to meet Amy's eyes. "I just wasn't expecting that." Amy frowned, but nodded her consent.
"Okay. If he tries something again, give 'im hell." She smirked, before releasing Ella's shoulders and turning away. "I'm gonna go dominate at beer pong."
You are a fool.
Who do you think you are? She challenged angrily.
I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Master Assassin.
Yeah? Well I'm Ella Nordin, Grad Student. Get out of my head.
Read the book.
Excuse me?
The book with the symbol of the assassins. Read it. The information inside may be valuable to this situation.
That decaying piece of crap the librarian gave me?
Yes.
Ella pondered this for a moment. This asshole did show up in her head after she'd opened the damned thing. Maybe he was right.
Fine. Maybe I can get rid of you.
The dissent is mutual.
So, um. I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with this story, but I think I have a basic plot down. I guess I'm just gonna run with it and see what happens. Let me know what you think!
I hope the Altaïr/Ella conversations aren't confusing. I think their personalities are different enough to discern who's speaking, but if not, let me know and I'll edit the chapter to clear things up.