Assassination's note: All righty...first off, I'm not entirely sure if this will turn into a romance. So, I'm just going to put it there and roll with the punches and see where it goes. Title credit goes to my friend who took the time to read it, give feedback and so I figured she deserved the right to give it a title.

Also, this story will have longer chapters than my others, or at least I'll try to make them longer so that I can take my time. If that makes sense. I haven't played RE5 in a long time (I don't own RE6) so...yeah...pardon any major fails. Another thing...this story came to be because of the simple thought of Umbrella...fuckin' TEMPLARS. while talking to a friend and watching a RE3 walkthrough (I don't own RE3). Along with the fact of my brain pushing Chris and Altaïr forth and going, "These two. NOW."
And this will be rated 16+ for language. Just saying that now 'cause I don't think I'll toss any 'buttsecks' in here. Erm...enjoy?

The only sounds echoing throughout the hallway were the soles of boots scrapping against the tiles. Whoever was wearing them was running, scrapes and grotesque growls going on about behind him. He tightened his hold on his Glock 9mm, which only held about three bullets left, gritting his teeth as he hazarded a glance over his shoulder to then regret it once he saw the beasts behind him get only closer.

Cursing, the man dropped down to skid across the floor and under a somewhat broken gate that must have been stalled in its descent since the power had gone out hours previous. All thanks to the muscled beings behind the fleeing figure.

After recomposing himself, he turned to push up from the ground as the fleshed beasts beat their clawed hands against the barricade blocking them from their prey. Panting softly, the man turned away, making his way to the back whilst casting glances over his shoulder just to be sure that the gate would be able to keep those monsters at bay until he'd at least found more ammo or something to help.

He looked around the room, lips formed in a straight line once he saw another human form stumble about. Not in a good way either. He'd learned to tell the difference between 'those' stumbles and other kinds.

A curse came from him as he pressed his back against a shelving unit that held what looked like globes. The kind you bought a child so they could shake it and sparkles would flutter about. Narrowing his eyes, the man wondered just where in the hell his partner was. They should have contacted him by now, telling him they'd found a way out of this godforsaken mall.

Hell...if he'd had a choice he would have risked going to a Pick 'n Save instead of coming into an infested area where his target was. Too bad for that guy, whom was now 'dog chow' for whatever found him first.

Now, the problem at hand, was getting out.

Damned idiot just had to release his 'pets'... crossed his mind before biting the inside of his cheek as the thing before him passed on by. Behind him. Great.

Slowly, carefully, he crept forth, shifting into a crouch as he peered around the corner to see the thing made its way to the gate. This had him raise a brow. Just what would it gain going that way? Did it think it could lift the gate and let those things inside? With a rough swallow, he turned his attention to the door that was left open by merely a crack.

There was a bloody hand print. Hopefully it wasn't his teammate's.

He silently made his way over, resting a hand on the side to ever-so-slowly open the door, so it wouldn't make a noise to alert anything else to his presence. Luckily, it didn't make a sound. Once he had it open enough, he stepped through and shut it just as slowly. Just as he'd gotten it fully shut, he reached down for his flashlight, flicking it on and tightening his hold once he saw a body of a nicely dressed woman. Well...once nicely dressed. She'd been ripped to what seemed like shreds.

That meant there were more of those things.

"-ïr..."

Blinking, he moved to put his gun back into its holster, raising said hand a moment later to press it against his communicator. "Malik?" he whispered, hushed in case there really was anything else within the area.

"Altaïr, I found a way out."

"Good." Altaïr's voice trailed off then, eyes falling halfway shut. "H...how's Desmond?"

He heard something being moved, rustle of fabric before his answer came, "He's...holding up. He had a bit of a 'freak out' earlier, but he's fine now."

Although he was relieved to hear this, Altaïr turned his gaze elsewhere, disappointed in himself. Desmond was his responsibility and he'd let him down in the worst way a person could. He tightened his hold on the flashlight, jaw clenched before looking back at the dead woman.

"...where's the exit you found?"

"I'm sending coordinates to your GPS right now."

Altaïr heard some more rustling in the background. It must have been Desmond tightening his hold on the jacket Altaïr wore, the jacket he'd given Desmond when they'd found the young man. Lowering his hand from his communicator, the man reached down to take hold of his GPS, holding it up he watched as it zoomed out to show where he was to meet up with the other two. He scowled once he saw that he was a ways away from his destination.

"I'll see you when you get here." were Malik's last words before the line went dead.

"Shit." he snarled.

He put the device back into his pocket, reaching back for his hunter's knife to pull it out of the holster. Altaïr then shifted his right hand to have the flashlight be just in front of him, turning towards the right and making his way down the halls that reeked of internal organs and dried blood. If he had to guess, it must have been the work of those...'Lickers.' Or whatever-the-hell Talal had called them.

They're getting more and more ruthless each passing day... Altaïr veered to his left, tensing once he saw one of Talal's 'pets' look about as if to figure out where its next meal was.

He grit his teeth, breathing in and out slowly, so as to not alert the being to his presence. Altaïr was glad they'd gathered just enough information on these things, 'zombies,' 'undead,' or 'infected' as other people had called them, to know that the thing before him was blind and could only find him through loud noises. "Like a bat," as Ezio had once said.

Sometimes Altaïr couldn't help but worry about the Auditore more than he did Malik. His best friend could easily handle himself, there was no doubt about that, but the other one however...during missions with him and how carefree he was at times caused Altaïr to wonder just how in the hell he'd been accepted into the Brotherhood. Then again, it was best not to question the higher ups.

Blinking, he twisted the knife to get a better hold on it, watching with an intense gaze as the Licker twitched from the sound of the handle sliding against his glove. He did it again, it turned its head. Though the muscled beast wasn't 'looking' in his direction, much to Altaïr's relief. With a slow exhale, he made his way down the corridor opposite of the Licker.

Mindful of how he stepped, he wove through a couple bodies dumped onto the floor, blood smeared against the walls. His flashlight illuminated the way fairly, though it wasn't as good as the one he'd found earlier that he had to drop. Altaïr reached for his GPS again, seeing that he still had further to go. He rose his sights to see that the hall was still void of infected beings.

Setting the guide back into his pocket, Altaïr glanced over his shoulder, seeing that he could no longer see the Licker once he shined his flashlight behind him. Dammit, it was too dark in here. He turned forth once more, his slow steps soon picking up to a jogging pace. He needed to get there soon before, it was a possibility, the S.W.A.T. team came in and swarmed the place. Possibly finding Malik and Desmond to then drag them off somewhere - or, even worse, the infected got to where those two were and overpowered them.

Altaïr grit his teeth, shaking his head at the thought. No way would his best friend get taken down by those things or the S.W.A.T. team. Even if he had to protect Desmond, who was probably still getting used to the gun they'd given him earlier.

Turning a corner, he froze immediately once he saw a mass of bodies fumbling about, nearly tripping over one another. They were intelligent, but were still 'lesser undead' than the others he'd come into contact with. Altaïr cast a glance to his knife, flicking off his flashlight as to not attract attention to himself. There was no way he'd be able to take all of them on with a simple hunter's knife and he wasn't going to waste three bullets.

Shit.

A light flickered above causing Altaïr to look up, seeing a pipe sticking out just enough for him to grab. Without a second to waste, he put his knife and flashlight back into their proper places. He then broke into a sprint to the opposite wall, jumping and scrapping the toe of his right boot against the wall to kick up, his hands grabbing onto the pole immediately once it was in reach. Hauling himself up once he heard grunts and growls, Altaïr managed to get high enough so his legs wouldn't be grabbed to drag him down into a horde of hungry infected.

Altaïr tightened his hold, carefully moving along the pipe and away from the mass that hissed and clawed at the wall, trying to get a hold of him. Too bad they weren't going to.

He grunted when his hand slipped on what, he assumed, was blood. Quickly reaching up again to grab onto the object then continuing his way across. Altaïr glanced to the side, seeing that there was an open vent. Perhaps that was a previous survivor's doing, who fled the building to escape and so others could as well...if they were able to reach it.

With soft pants passing his lips, he then threw himself off the wall, to the open ventilation. Altaïr's hands grabbed hold of a loose end of the thin metal, his left boot pressed against the wall, to pull himself into it. He sat there, on hands and knees, lips parted to pant before licking his lips and reaching for his flashlight again. Flicking it on, he pointed it forth to see that this was fairly clean. Maybe the undead hadn't figured to use the ventilation systems yet.

Not that he minded. It made this a whole lot easier.

Altaïr parted his lips more, placing the flashlight between his teeth and began to crawl forth. This was one of the moments he was glad he wasn't as bulky as Bartolomeo, though that did come in handy with power-housing his way through things. Though, that was his forte, not Altaïr's. Who was he to criticize?

He paused after a while, ears perking up, alert. There was the sound of something crawling through the vents. It was frustrating because he couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from. Altaïr twisted, grabbing onto the flashlight to turn the light from side to side then behind him. A grunt came once a sharp pain assaulted his leg, causing him to roll onto his back, lifting the leg to then slam it back down to hear a screech in result.

Pulling his legs close, he shined the light onto the pile of bug guts.

Great...he was wrong about the enemy not being too smart to use the vents. Lovely.

Altaïr turned, continuing to crawl as his leg throbbed, small dribbles of blood seeping from the bite. He chose to ignore it though since it would only become an annoyance and he had nothing to patch it up with at this point. Nor was this the time to stop because of something so trivial.

He breathed quietly, alert to everything around him, silently chiding himself because a bug caught him off guard.

Ezio wouldn't let him live that down if he found out.

Finally reaching the end, he poked his head out, glad to see that some lights were still on. Guess only half of the mall's electricity was destroyed, which was good since he could save some battery life. Turning off his flashlight, Altaïr reattached it to his belt, eyes scanning the area. It was mostly barren except for some of those damned bugs and bodies.

Altaïr slipped out, grabbing onto the ledge to then release, his knees bending to absorb the impact once his feet met the ground once again. Standing up straight, he checked the GPS once again. Good, he was very close. He turned his head to the left, jogging down it with soft breaths, hands clenched into loose fists as his boots' soles slapped the bloodied ground.

The man soon reached a door, standing there with his chest raising and lowering. Altaïr lowered his hand to grab onto his gun, flipping the strap that held it in its holster before pulling it out. Reaching out with his other hand, he turned the handle and pushed it open. Slowly. He peered around the edge to see Malik smoking a cigarette, clenched between his teeth and shotgun pointed at the door.

Once the dark haired man realized who was at the door, he lowered the gun with a soft exhale. "Finally...we were starting to think you wouldn't make it."

Stepping inside, Altaïr closed the door with his foot, then pressing his back to it. "Really, Malik? You think so low of my skills?" he sighed, placing his right hand on his chest with a mock-hurt look. He then turned his attention to Desmond, whom was sitting on a table, hands shaking slightly. "...Desmond..." Altaïr paused, turning his attention to Malik. "So, where's this exit?"

Malik motioned up to a hole in the ceiling, light from the outside seeping through. "I already called Ugo. He'll be here in a few minutes."

extra note: No, Desmond was not raped. I am above 'kidnapper rapes victim'. And...Malik has both his arms.