Altair cared not for the prisoners tied to their execution posts, nor for the peasants watching the 'show'. He was disgusted by the whole affair, but he reminded himself he was not here for a rescue. He was here for an assassination.
He perched on a ledge, overlooking the coming execution. His white hood hung low over his face, though he doubted anyone could see him at that distance. He crouched lower, inspecting the scene before him.
He had always been taught to inspect and respect. Inspect the situation, watch for guards, watch for anything that might go amiss and be aware of any constants. Respect the mark, watch for him and do not allow yourself to underestimate the target.
Heeding his training, Altair waited and watched. His experienced, keen eyes noted guard movements, saw exits and watched for hiding places.
The show was beginning and Altair was getting impatient. Though he knew to not underestimate, he grew tired of the waiting, confident of his abilities.
He heard the spokesman below begin his ranting about the prisoners. Altair was not interested in any crimes they did, they were irrelevant to him. He focused on the spokesperson, his target. The grand jailer and torturer of the people of the city. Altair drew a deep breath and readied himself to jump down and begin the assassination. The less fighting the better. In and out. Just how he liked it.
A bird landed on his perched, not surprising Altair at all, so tuned in to his surroundings. He looked to the crow and grinned to himself. He liked the comparison to himself and the bird, often noticed by himself.
He pulled his cowl lower and dropped onto the street, without pausing he headed to the crowd. As he pushed his way through the peasants, he heard the jailor's voice getting louder and felt the execution was soon to be at an end. Altair surprised himself when he realized his pace was quickening.
He pushed his way through the crowd faster and faster, eventually roughly shoving people out of the way to get to the front to his mark.
Sensing the end of the crowd, he broke into a run and swiftly leaped into the air when he reached to the edge. His toned and practiced body wrenched in the air, diving toward the stunned target, who stopped mid sentence.
Barreling down onto his victim, Altair crashed to the floor, secretly drawing the secret blade from his left forearm and plunging it deep into his victim's neck. When Altair looked up, he saw no life in the Jailer's eyes. He knew his job was complete.
Quickly, the secret blade sheathed back into its holder, hidden in Altair's forearm and Altair ran.
Hearing the cries of shock and anger from the crowds and the guards, Altair did not look back. Skipping over a few crates in the street, he sprinted through the city, barging into people and leaping over obstacles.
Suddenly, Altair skidding around a corner into an alley. Dead-end. He looked up unhesitatingly searching for anything to climb. He sighed when he realized there was no way up.
Grudgingly, he spun on the spot and drew his long sword and waited for the guards to arrive, for they were surely chasing him.
Sure enough, three guards ran into the alley, swords drawn and faces grim with determination. They advanced slowly.
"Only three?" Altair taunted cockily, waving at the three with the point of his sword.
They looked to each other and laughed. "I think we can handle a filthy street assassin." One said. "Get him!"
They charged in, angrily and sloppily. Altair easily batted the first swipe, sending the sword wide. He leaped back to dodge the other two and then suddenly lurched forward, plunging the tip of his sword into the chest of the closest attacker.
Gripping his chest, he fell to the floor with a scream. The other two guards looked to each other and pressed on. Altair parried their hits, perfectly dancing in unison with their blows, deflecting one and immediately blocking the other.
He made no attacks of his own, concentrating on defending himself and wearing down his foes. The two guards bought their swords down together in unison, making an unblockable attack. Always quick-thinking, Altair darted to one side, easily avoiding the attack.
In an unorthodox move, Altair grabbed the closest of the guards and spun him in a full circle, finally throwing him hard into the alley wall. His head collided with the concrete with a sickening thud, followed by a snap.
Altair smirked as he raised his sword to the last remaining attacker, who was looking at his fallen comrades. At last he threw down his sword and ran from the scene. Not fast enough.
Altair patiently removed one of his throwing knives from his belt and skillfully threw it towards the surrendered man. It landed with accuracy between his shoulder blades. He fell to the floor with a scream and then he moved no more.
Altair didn't want anyone to know where he was and as such couldn't leave anyone alive. Besides, he hated being cornered.
He knew he had to move. He casually walked out of the alley in a vain attempt to blend in. No luck. He was recognized.
"Stop him!" The call came from a leader of what seemed to be twenty or more men. Altair didn't like those chances. Without missing a beat, he sprinted through the busy streets, shoving more innocents away like they were merely furniture.
Seeing a roof, Altair leaped and grabbed a wall and deftly climbed it, using all of his skill and strength. He reached the roof and ran across, leaping from rooftop to rooftop to avoid the guards.
After a few minutes of running, he jumped from a rooftop to a stall and then hit the ground. Seeing no immediate threat, he walked quickly toward the city gates. To his escape. He just had to keep low until he got there.
"Cease him!" The cry came again. Cursing under his breath, Altair sprinted toward the huge gates of the city. Oddly, the doors were opening. Shouldn't they be closing them? He thought as he navigated his way towards the huge wooden gate.
Suddenly, with a grin he realized what was happening. The priests were here. As the door opened and the priests, all clad in white spilled into the city, Altair stopped suddenly. His white robe would blend perfectly with the many priests. The guards wouldn't catch them. He knew they could bring no harm to the peaceful priests. He spun on the spot and showed the guards his mocking wide grin. The guards ran on into the crowd of priests, but he was gone. Altair, his hood low and his weapons covered in white nearly laughed to himself at the guards inspecting the priests.
When he was far enough away from the priests, Altair pulled up his hood. He would need transportation. He found a horse tied up. With a shrug, Altair cut the binds and mounted it. He patted the horse gently and looked back at the city, now in chaos at his work. He chuckled at the image.
His master would be pleased with his assassination. He had done the creed proud. He smirked at a bird circling overhead. It was a crow. He wondered if it was the same one as earlier.
With a cry to the horse, Altair sped ahead into the desert. Back home.