Assassination's note: I figured I may as well rewrite the whole thing and make it a solo project because I actually enjoyed the RP - and I also realized that perhaps my Altair back in 2010 was too extreme and...the logic of the injuries was...illogical and make me angry when I reread and see how stupid I was...
So...here we are, two years later, having it be rewritten and continued. Also...I found that it actually is rather hard to type from two POVs...of sorts.
Boots padded against the stone tiling upon the rooftop, the form in the process of fleeing casting a glance to the side to see if he could divert his path elsewhere. To trip up his pursuers. Seeing none, the man tisked and turned his attention forth, breathing in at a pace that matched how hard he was pushing himself. Which was becoming extreme since Altair had yet to outrun or out-maneuver the men behind him.
Oh, how ridiculous their cries of anger were. How he'd heard them so many times over his years.
The Arabian swallowed thickly, slowing his pace as he neared a ledge he recalled from earlier, whilst wandering the area to find quick escape routes after he'd finished assassinating Talal. Clearly, Altair had fulfilled his task of taking out the Templar. Hence the guards chasing after him. He quickly measured the distance, estimating the force he'd need to push himself with to make it to the bale of hay below.
Altair slowly turned, lips parted slightly to pant. Golden eyes locked onto the group of men, seeing their swords at the ready. The assassin's lips tugged up on the side to form a smirk, holding up his hands. Amusement played about inside him as the guards hissed in distaste, saying they'd wipe that look off his face very soon. Funny how that wasn't going to happen.
Spreading his arms, the white garbed man shifted his weight to then launch himself off the roof.
He heard the enraged men shout and curse in return to his action. Some even stepped forth with snarls and insults tossed the assassin's way.
Once again, he'd escaped. Not that he doubted it.
Though the man knew, immediately, that something was wrong once his back connected to the hay only to then fall through further. Further, farther, deeper. Altair's hood lifted a bit, revealing wide sun-colored orbs as he watched at the scene before him began to twist and morph. He reached a hand out as if to grab onto something solid.
Only to have it slip through his fingers like sand and a bright flash of light.
Ezio Auditore was a normal, typical teenager. Full of hormones, adventure, energy, enthusiasm and...outlets. Well, he was a 'normal, typical teenager' until a week or so ago.
Though, as they say, 'old habits die hard.' Seeing as some of those qualities mentioned above haven't exactly changed. Above all else, his heart had become encased in ice when his father and brothers had been sentenced to death. It was a shock, he couldn't stop what he'd done, now he was a wanted man in his hometown of Florence. How sad it was. To see the people he'd grown up with, whom his father bantered with, turn their backs on the Auditore family so easily.
Especially what those bastard guards had done to his mother.
After long days of waiting for Leonardo to fix the blade that he'd acquired from the chest hidden within his home, learning to blend into the crowd, to pick their pockets better and even avoiding detection...he was finally here. Here, in the building where Uberto resided. Where he'd exact his revenge. His muscles became taut, eyes sliding across the crowd to see if anyone would get in his way.
His hood obscured his face just enough to avoid notice from guards and civilians. Enough to hide that he was the 'last' Auditore they had to deal with.
Seeing his target and noting that he had a perfect striking range, Ezio's lips tugged up. His scar on his lips giving the expression a somewhat terrifying tint.
The Auditore tensed his left arm, activating the mechanism within the gauntlet strapped to his arm, causing a soft 'shink' to sound. A few pedestrians glanced about, puzzled about where this sudden sound had come from or if they'd simply imagined it.
Oh, how they will find out soon enough...
Ezio crouched slightly, shifting a foot back, about to sprint towards his target.
All too soon there was an unsuspecting weight that came crashing down upon the Florentine, all pretense of stealth gone once he collapsed under the pressure. "Che cazzo!" was cried out before his hood was knocked back, his face soon meeting the ground. Luckily placing his bare hand on the ground and his forehead now resting upon it. "...the bastardo that fell on me will pay..."
His blade retracted due to this, growling and cursing as the Italian shifted to try and remove the dead weight atop him.
Said 'dead weight' groaned, lifting a hand to nurse the back of his head. Slowly opening his eyes to look around, noticing the odd looks he, and whoever he'd landed on, was getting. The man took note how the buildings looked so different from what he'd seen earlier. He moved to sit up first, as if to make sure nothing was broken in his 'fall' of sorts. Realizing he could still move, the white dressed man then stood, getting off of whatever he was on.
Golden hues shifted about as he took a step forth, dusting himself off and pulling his hood back over his head.
Ezio nearly rolled over at how long it had taken the person who had fallen atop him off. Nearly administered a few punches and few choice words. Reaching a hand back, the Italian gripped his hood to pull it back over his head before pushing himself upwards. He heard the person leaving, yet veered about to see if he'd been noticed before turning his attention to where he'd heard the footsteps go.
At least the bastard didn't blow his cover-
"Assassin!"
...or so he thought. Hearing the cry of 'Assassin' had him curse. "Merda."
It was then that he turned to see a man hefting himself over a ledge, clothed almost like he. After a split second, he deduced that that man was probably the one who fell on him. For who else could jump an assassin than a fellow assassin?
Ezio felt his lips tug up in a rueful grin accompanied by a chuckle. "So I am not alone? This promises to be fun." Deciding not to waste another moment, he quickly made his way to follow the man.
It's not like he could let the man get away with such rudeness, could he? Besides, the gonfaloniere issue could wait for a few minutes. Gently nudging people aside, he finally made it outside and was soon scaling the wall to chase the other assassin. Once on the roof he took off after the other. It wasn't too long before he'd nearly caught up with the Arabian. That red sash whipping about in the wind, as if taunting him to catch it.
The younger man turned abruptly, seeing that his newest prey had turned and bolted off in another direction, gripping an iron bar to hoist himself up and dart. Doing the same, Ezio noticed that the assassin had glanced back to see whom was chasing him.
With the other's attention on him, Ezio couldn't stop himself from calling out to the other in an amused, taunting, tone, "Where are you going codardo? I have to teach you a lesson for your rudeness!"
He caught the mention of a look of surprise before it changed into a scowl whilst the other called back, "Are you a fool?"
Odd...the man sounded foreign. This is indeed interesting.
Though, although Ezio gave himself credit for being fast, this man was almost outrunning him. "...he's fast." he muttered to himself, hazarding a glance over his shoulder to see guards beginning to make their presence known. Well, now he had to focus on this mysterious man and avoiding these irritating men whom wished him ill. Perhaps he shouldn't have called out like he had.
Oh well, he was a brash, young, man. It's just how he is.
Ezio blinked, catching sight of his 'target' scaling yet another building. So, determined as ever, he followed still until he skid to a stop at the sight of the pursued assassin leaping off the ledge with his arms spread. He moved to peer over the ledge to see where the man was intending on landing doing such a daring leap like he'd learned to do over the years.
A perfect landing.
"Well done, il mio amico."
Hearing the guards call out to find him, the Italian shifted to make his way to another building, mentally marking where the foreign assassin had landed. Having lived here his whole live, he would most likely find the man. Sooner or later.
He was hoping for the former.
Disposing of a guard who dared try to attack him, the Florentine native retracted his blade and made his way down the wall. Soon making his way into the crowd, his eyes sliding back and forth to keep an eye out for the one whom he had pursued. For he knew this area well and that man would have no choice but to enter the crowd.