Let Me Live
A Ratchet & Clank—Assassin's Creed Crossover

In a time where many parallel universes had interferences, there were two very different men who had one thing in common: loneliness. Those two men were just as dangerous as each other, and they've met dangerous enemies of their own. And soon they're going to cross paths...

In Jerusalem...
Up on the tall, flat rooftops, there was a man in a white robe with a red and brown sash, leather boots, and a white hood like the head of an eagle. In his left hand was a feather, bloodstained and held in between his index finger and fore finger which had been cut halfway, possibly from a past fight. He had just been escaping from the city guards as they were chasing him when they witnessed what he had recently done.

Altair has completed his next assassination.

Everyone was now aware of a man in white who had been sent from Masyaf to kill powerful people, mostly enemies, but very few know his own personal characteristics. Indeed, he was dangerous in every way possible, but from inside he was not completely heartless; in fact, his heart was empty. He wasn't like most people across Israel or of those in its neighbouring countries, but his mind was fixed on this one question: "Is there someone out there who understands my pain?" And if there was, where is he, or she?

Altair now had to head to the city Bureau and report of his accomplishment to his assassin brother, Malik. The assassins all formed an infamous brethren, which would hint on the impression of why their colleagues are called brothers. Altair headed to the Bureau, walking cautiously across the sandy streets, keeping his head low. He still had to be wary of the city guards, for if they caught sight of him, he could be either running blindly for a place to hide among the back alleys, ambushed or executed. And Jerusalem was known to be a huge maze built across the entire city, even around Solomon's Temple.

He reached the Bureau when he climbed the ladder up the roof when no one—hopefully—was looking with wandering eyes. The grated window was pulled open and it allowed him to climb down from the ledge.

Malik was waiting in the other room, flipping the pages of a thick book with his one good, working arm; the left one—the one that didn't function—was almost completely cut off; only his upper arm and shoulder was left when he was on he returned from his last mission at Solomon's Temple and, although the mission was done, it was not as successful as expected from their master Al Mualim.

Malik heard Altair's faint footsteps increase in volume and looked up. "I assume you've been successful?"

"Yes," Altair responded, holding out the bloodstained feather in his right hand; this one did not have any cuts from past missions. "His crimes will no longer continue now that he's been put to rest." His voice seemed to be getting low and quiet as he spoke. He then put the feather back from wherever he kept it.

Malik could easily see that there was something troubling the mind of his brother, and this always made him uncomfortable, as he was a very close ally to the highly trained assassin. "You sound melancholic. What is wrong?"

Altair sighed silently and set his eyes to the floor. "Malik, have you ever felt... lonely?"
This in turn made Malik surprised; not one person, not even his own fellow assassins have asked such a thing in his life. Thinking for a proper answer in seconds, he responded, "Everyone gets it, Altair; even those who are most cheerful experience loneliness in their lives. Why do you ask? Do you feel apologetic for you victims?"

"No, it's different. I feel... empty, like I'm lacking something in my heart or soul."

"I am no witchdoctor, but many citizens here, mostly in Acre, have that same thing as well. Don't think that you are the only one who has this mental problem."

"It's nothing to do with romance, Malik, but solace. I'm looking for someone who understands what I've been through and would contemplate how I have been feeling with every assignment I've had to do, every man I've had to execute..."

"Say no more; I comprehend what you are saying now. Although, this 'someone' may be difficult to find—the outside world is, in fact, enormous."

"I see. Then I will have to discuss this another time. Thank you, Malik, for your assistance. Safety and peace, brother."

"Likewise, Altair"

Altair then left and started to head back to Masyaf, only to stop halfway when he saw a couple of citizens from ten metres away. There was a man in a burnoose trying to comfort a woman, whose face was conceived behind a veil of cloth, who was crying and they both looked very sad and vulnerable.

Altair thought about how this very couple felt while he continued his way out of the desert city.

Meanwhile at Volgrom Pass, Planet Torren IV...
There, at the edge of the cliff, was a silver furred, red striped Lombax in bronzed armour, looking out across the Pass with a DuoWrench in hand, held like a ruler's staff. The bright light from the setting sun made his garnet-brown eyes shine, his thick, bushy black eyebrows furrow as his sight was adjusted to the mechanical factory on his left, although the place was covered by mountainous rock and barren soil.

Alister Azimuth sighed and headed back to his hiding place, resting his staff-like weapon by the circular window that overlooked the expansive chasm and sat down by his bed by the far right of the one-room building. His head was hung low, his eyes now half-closed and staring at his own gloved hands. The Lombax was obviously contemplating what had happened to his own race from almost twenty years ago.

"I thought it was for the best," he said softly to himself. "But it should never have happened. It drove our kind to a parallel dimension, and yet here I am, banished from them and living here for the rest of my life, in shame and remorse..."

He then got up and looked at himself in a mirror laid behind a crate. Upon looking at the reflecting glass, several strands of fur were hanging by the corners of his squared jaw line, and his eyes looked obscure in a way, the silver eyelids darkened to an ashy grey with shades of red rimmed around them; he had been in countless battles but this was a sign that showed grief and depression deep in his mind and soul.

"If only there was someone out there who would understand what I've been through, someone who won't shun for my past actions..." He said this aloud as a tear slowly crept from his eyes and came down with a small splash on the mirror's bottom rim.

Suddenly, a portal was opened outside and the Lombax was startled by the sound of whirling electricity. He then walked out to find this portal and it showed a distorted image of an arcane, medieval city in a cloudy background, the buildings standing tall in a gothic type of architecture.

Alister was amazed that there was a portal there, a gateway to a different kind of world. Quickly, he fetched his DuoWrench and went back, stopping abruptly to think about what he may be doing. Should he go through and see if this is the answer to his longing prayers, or should he stay and live through more of his own loneliness and depression?

Thinking hard, he came to a decision—he will step through the portal.

Within seconds, Alister was now in the new world, the fields all of a dark green grassland, and the same city was downhill, the areas enormous with strong city walls built along the front, separating the city from the scattered campsites and unvisited graveyard. There was also a huge waterfront where dozens of ships were docked. The citizens there were dressed in robes that lacked colour and design, taking in human form but only showed their faces—when their hoods were not over their heads—and hands—whenever their sleeves were pulled up to the wrist.

Alister then heard a galloping noise coming from behind and increasing in volume. He quickly ran from a place to hide, to shield himself from the eyes of those who lived here in this strange new world.

Altair was riding on a white stallion, heading his way to the city downhill; he had been given a new mission where he had to assassinate a drug marketer at Acre's waterfront, and the only way into the city was by the main gateway that was guarded by some British swordsmen, where he was headed for right now.

His horse slowed down as the village people were getting closer as they proceeded. Then, the horse turned its head to the left and neighed in wonder. Altair followed his horse's direction, wondering what it was that caught the attention of his stallion. He dismounted and went around the grassy area for a small inspection. Suddenly, a few leaves from a bush up ahead fell, followed by a rustling sound.

"Come out from your hiding place now," he called out, standing his ground and preparing his hidden blade from underneath his gauntlet. "You shouldn't be scurrying around like a child here."

Alister kept himself hidden behind the bust as he spied a man in attire of various layers of white and red. He did not seem so dangerous but his voice hinted otherwise. He did sound sincere though, and Alister had met some very dangerous creatures back in the Polaris Galaxy, one of them a bloodthirsty mercenary named Lord Flint Vorselon—his top adversary.

He simply did not wish to move, and also kept as quiet as he possibly could as well, just in case his mysterious encounter became curious about him.

Altair waited but nothing happened, and he was now growing impatient. If whoever was hiding will not come out of hiding, then he would have no choice but to charge and lash at the cowardly person, and either interrogate or kill him if necessary.

And yet, there was still nothing that commenced after the past ten minutes.

"Fine, you leave me no choice," Altair said calmly but ominously.

And so, he ran over to the bush and jumped, ready to unsheathe his hidden blade and attack to end this pointless charade.

He couldn't believe his garnet-coloured and yellow eyes, but the man in white and red was about to kill him for making even the slightest interference in his affairs. And as soon as the man was about to either punch him or claw him—he couldn't decide what kind of attacker this person was—be brought out his DuoWrench and successfully blocked the attack, just in the nick of time before any blades or knives came into contact.

Keeping a firm grip on his weapon, Alister looked at this encounter in the eyes; they were filled with…nothing—those eyes under the shadow of his white hood, those grey eyes seemed empty, lacking emotion, but the man became wide-eyes as he withdrew from his attack.

Altair was at least a metre away from his strange, alien encounter and quickly sheathed his hidden blade. "What are you? What are you doing here?" he asked in shock.

"What is it to you?" Alister asked him back, turning back and hiding his own shocking expression. "You were about to kill me." There was silence and Altair hadn't moved from his spot, curiosity overwhelming him as his mouth hung open. "Fine," Alister sighed in defeat. "I'm known to be a Lombax, and the reason why I'm here is rather personal."

"Well, if you are wondering yourself in this situation, I happen to be an assassin, but I only kill those who harm mankind—I'm not one to harm anyone who is not involved in any trouble, so I suggest you move along." Altair turned away and walked back to his horse to continue on his journey, his head kept low under his hood.

Alister seemed to wonder what was up with him. This man was employed to kill people, but yet he did not kill Alister when he realised who the Lombax was. But why was this? "Wait!"

Altair stopped and froze. "What is it…Lombax?"

Alister paused for a second and then asked him, "Why had you spared me? Why didn't you kill me when you were about to?"

"You are not my target," the assassin answered absent-mindedly. "Why? Should I have killed you now? Did you want to die?"

"N-No, that's not it!"

"You should say what you mean then."

The aged Lombax thought about what to say and how to say them properly. "What I mean is, others have made me a target, but they happen to be very cruel even amongst others. But I happen to have done stuff which I regret having done and no one would even understand how I've felt for all this time, let alone forgive me—they believe me to be a lost cause for the universe."

Altair was listening well and took every word into account, feeling empathetic for the Lombax but was still unsure as to whether or not he should trust him. "Listen, I, too have felt regretful for some of the actions I've made, when those I've made when I was hired to be an assassin. The people I kill have black hearts and cold blood, but then I wonder whether I should have killed them for a good reason, or if they still had some good in them when they haven't shown any signs of a good soul. Either way, if you were seeking repentance or solace, we seem to be in the same boat." As he finished, he turned around, facing the Lombax. "My name is Altair."

"A unique name," Alister complimented him, intrigued by how it was pronounced with such an accent, and he sported a small smile. "Alister Azimuth is the name," he greeted, his fist held against his chest plate.

Altair himself seemed fascinated by his name. "Your name is not too bad also. Would you like to come with me to Acre?" This time, a smile crept from his face also.

In the Acre Bureau…
Before they reached the city bureau, Altair had to cover Alister up in whatever way possible to avoid suspicion, either from the citizens or the guards, but was a success.

For countless minutes, Altair and Alister were talking about their lives and how they'd felt on certain events, and each had been fascinated by the other one's story; and, to their surprises, both felt the same way for each other and became extraordinary friends.

It wasn't long until they had to go back to their own matters as a portal was opened in front of the Lombax and Homo Sapien—it led back to Alister's hideout at Volgrom Pass. There was, of course, one thing that either of them would forget.

They are not alone in the universe.