Whoa look at that! My first ever author's notes. Okay, so this is the kind of thing that I plan on doing whenever I come across a stumbling block in Rising Sun.
I know a lot of people really like Desmond and his ancestors, but I feel like the heart of AC really lies in the impossibly vast conspiracy. It's a really great setup that gives us the freedom to write so many new and interesting characters and settings that it makes one wonder why we are not doing exactly that. With that said, no one ever seems to write fics for the comic, which did more to advance the modern-day continuity in one volume than the last four games put together. That's neither here nor there.
This story is closer to the comic, but only tangentially. However, you can expect much more from Tahir in the future.
I neither own Assassin's Creed, nor the Tea Party (whose lyrics are featured) (also, it's the band, not the political movement).
April 28, 2011 in Dubai
Alone left here in dust
Amidst my fears and doubts
Tahir Basarra stood atop the roof and observed the sunset in the bay. The lights of Dubai once made for a spectacular sight, but now it only reminded him of this city's true colors. These lights were fueled by the blood, sweat, and tears of honest men who only sought to feed their families. Such men were few in this city, despite bringing it into existence. No, this city had become a playground for those who would extort the common man for personal gain. The Templars could not have found a more suitable home.
Till then my soul it burns.
And it burns only for you.
Unfortunately, he had not come for their blood. As much as he would love to do that, Bill Miles had given him explicit orders against raising that kind of suspicion. Instead, Tahir needed to weed out the one who had corrupted his brothers and the Hashashin name. He opened his new prepaid phone. 15 minutes was all he needed. He could stay elusive this way.
Night it falls on me endlessly.
I search for you in this blindness.
He cleared his throat. While English was not his first language, it was the one he would need, and an accent cover would be mandatory. It didn't matter which he used, so long as he could conceal his native Syrian accent. Perhaps a British affectation. Americans always listen to the British.
I cant explain, but disdain remains.
Some treason I cant reason.
He dialed the number and tore out his headphones. Music need not be a distraction now.
"Hello?" a woman answered.
"Yes, who is this?" Tahir replied.
"This is Michelle."
"Yes, may I speak to Barry? It's urgent and I couldn't reach him personally."
"I guess. Barry, it's for you. Said you weren't answering."
Tahir waited a moment. They exchanged some banter he couldn't understand with the phone away from Michelle's mouth.
"Hello, this is Barack."
"Mr President, I'm sure you remember me."
The President sighed, "Let me guess, you're still trying to sell me Bin Laden's location."
"You know me all too well."
"I'm still not going to grant you asylum from Abstergo. This purge of theirs has gone too long by now and I can't have a scandal like that coming to light during my term."
"Just last week, your Marines took out an Assassin cell under the impression that they were Al Qaeda. For several years, my brothers have been unlawfully interrogated in Guantanamo under the same pretense. They were not the first, but they will be the last. I want your guns turned away from my brothers."
"You have ties to Al Qaeda. That makes you and the rest of the Assassins fair game."
"WE CUT THOSE TIES WHEN THAT BASTARD TOOK THEM FROM US!" Tahir seethed for a moment before trying to calm himself, "We do not harm the innocent."
"I don't have to listen to this. Goodbye."
Tahir thought quickly. Bush had refused to strike any deals with Assassins, let alone an Assassins whose cell had almost entirely defected to Al Qaeda. That was five years ago. Obama also refused, but that was on the grounds that Tahir could not give a definite and a raid on an unsuspecting family could be disastrous for his public relations. However, he needed something he could offer to Obama.
Tahir steadied his tone, "Don't you have a reelection coming up next year?"
The President paused, "I'm listening."
"I can think of no better campaign basis than being responsible for the death of the world's greatest terrorist."
"And in return, I need to command the US military to leave the Assassins alone."
"Yes."
"Are you familiar with American political process?"
"That's why I called you. You're a bold man, but people cling to your word like it were God's own. Besides, you're the Commander-in-Chief."
"And if I can't make it happen?"
Tahir smiled, "You're not like Osama. You're a public figure. Reclusiveness is not an option for you. The President of the United States is, in many ways, the world's easiest person to track."
"You know weapons aren't allowed near me," fear was flooding the President's voice.
Tahir, saw through the bravado all too easily, "Who said we needed weapons?"
"And why don't you just handle him yourself?" he was struggling now to put on a brave face.
"That I cannot tell you," Tahir lowered his tone. In truth, Abstergo's purge had become the Assassin's primary focus this last decade. Weeding out Osama was more of a personal matter for Tahir, since he was the only member of his cell not to be influenced by the man's vile rhetoric.
"Is that all?"
"That depends. Do we have a deal?"
"The US Military will not meddle in the affairs of Assassins who have done no wrong against the US. Good?"
"Good. I will send his coordinates to Director Clapper. Good day, Mr President."
Click. Obama didn't even offer a simple farewell. Tahir was not shaken. He could feel his heartbeat rise. His thumbs were becoming shaky from the adrenalin that this call had given him.
With the DNI's number entered into his his phone, Tahir typed out his message:
34.169308° 10' 9.51" N, 73.242439° 14' 32.78" E
The cave holds a great treasure. The Eagle will take it. Nothing is true; everything is permitted.
Send. Tahir gently lifted the wire hanging from his pocket from the base until he felt the earbuds. The vibrations told him that he had forgotten to pause his music. He placed one in his right ear.
I'm crawling now
Up toward the sound
Of vengeance moving swiftly
How appropriate. Tahir must have left the song on loop. He closed the phone and threw it, only knowing that it would land in the sea. Tahir sat down on the ledge, his arms held to the bars, but his feet hung off the edge. From here, he could see the Burj Al Arab, where the traitor Daniel Cross had had killed the Mentor ten years before. Nothing about this city sat well with Tahir.
I see a light.
I think it's shining from above.
I think they've finally come.
The halcyon days.
At least the lights were pretty.