The streets were crowded and it was impossible to see where the boy had gone. Usually he would be comfortable with the noisy groups of chattering innocents. After all, they hid him when he was being chased. But it was different now and he wasn't used to being the hunter.
He didn't like it.
His eyes continued to scan the street and just as he was considering giving up, after all he could always pickpocket the money back from others, he spotted the child. The boy was trying to pull himself onto a cart that was being unloaded by a large merchant. But he slipped in his struggle and ended up rolling on the dusty ground. Altair used this moment to catch up with the boy and soon was within three meters. The child spotted Altair however, and darted back to his feet, this time succeeding at jumping onto the cart. Once stable, he jumped upwards, fingers grasping the roof ledge above him, and pulled himself up quickly. Altair followed. The boy had made a mistake, perhaps on the street he would have had a chance, he would have been safe in the crowds of people walking from stall to stall, but on the rooftops he was at Altair's mercy. They were his domain. Altair was soon standing in front of the boy. A grin lit up the assassins face; yet it was not a grin of humour or happiness. It was the kind of grin a killer gives when he's about to slaughter his prey. And for a moment, Altair saw a flicker of fear cross the boy's face. But it was quickly replaced by that scowl of defiance that the Assassin was quickly beginning to resent.
"Hand the pouch back over fool, and I might let you live." He said darkly, his hand stretched towards the boy.
In reply, the boy grinned and darted under Altair's outstretched arm. The Assassin felt his waist tug for a moment, and turned in time to see the boy sprinting across the rooftops, with three of Altair's throwing knives in his hand. Altair let loose a cry of anger and stormed after the child, pulling free two throwing knives himself as he ran. He waited until he was close enough, and threw them at the child. They sailed past him as the boy darted to the side with ease.
Fine, Altair thought, I'll strangle him with my own bare hands then. The boy was quick, but Altair was a trained Assassin and he had never let his target get away from him. It soon became clear that the boy was going to be caught. He watched as the boy freerunned up a wall and hopped over the top. The assassin was right on his heels. Thoughts of victory fuelled his body and he leaped over the wall, a cry forming on his lips, he rolled when he hit the ground and automatically placed himself in a fighting stance. His fists clenched and twitching.
But the boy was gone.
It took him a full minute to come to terms with it. He had failed. He had lost his target. Altair the great and feared assassin had failed. And the victory belonged to a street urchin! A boy incapable of anything but running around and stealing money!
He heard a small cough sound behind him; he spun round in fury, his hidden blade drawn. It was the boy. He was sat on the wall that moments ago, Altair had leaped across in glory, counting the coins in Altair's coin pouch. Altair was stunned. He felt his muscles go weak, then he retracted his hidden blade and stumbled towards the child.
" How?" He managed to whisper out, "How, did you beat me?"
The boy looked up from the pile of coins in his hand, and lifted an eyebrow at Altair's expression.
"How many have beaten you before?" The boy asked.
Altair blinked, "None. I am Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. No one beats me!"
The boy's grin widened. Then disappeared. A serious expression filled its place.
"Train me, train me to kill. Let me become your apprentice."
Altair frowned. No one had asked him this before. Recruiting new assassins was not his job, neither was training them. And yet, the boy showed promise. If he were to become the boy's master, he could teach him to become great. Become like Altair. And for a moment Altair considered saying yes, in fact, the word almost left his mouth. But there was a side of him. A side that wanted to shame the boy. The young child had beaten him, and he would have his revenge. He listened to that side. For it was Altair Ibn-La'Ahad that should be remembered in the centuries to come, not the street urchin with no name.
He walked slowly towards the boy. Staring into the boy's defiant eyes. Yes, he had potential. And for that reason he was dangerous to Altair. The assassin's hidden blade shot outwards with a hiss. And he saw the fear in the boy's eyes. He smiled. He would win after all.
The boy's hands slipped, and the coins fell to the ground, ignored. Shooting forward Altair clamped his hand down onto the boy's ankle and yanked, pulling him of the wall and on to the dusty rooftop. The boy struggled but Altair was far stronger and soon had the child pinned under him. He drew back his arm.
The Creed. Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. He could not kill the boy. And yet... was the child innocent? There was no way to know. But it would be easy enough to tell his brothers that the boy was on the templars side and therefore, had to be killed. But that was not his way. In his mind however, lingered one single thought, He beat me. He lowered his arm and looked at the boy fully for the first time. He had short black hair framing a grubby and thin face which contrasted with the boy's slightly squashed nose. But his most outstanding features were his eyes. Almost black, they held such anger in them. The boy must die. And yet Altair could not be the one to kill him. Once again he retracted his blade.
He would remember the boy's face. Should he see it again, he would kill the boy, no hesitations. No one beats Altair.
He stood up from the ground. The boy frowned. "Is that a yes?" He asked, hesitantly, still wary of the Assassin.
" No."
The boy scrambled up, kicking up dirt and dust.
"How can you say no? I'm better than you. I beat you!" He shouted.
The Assassin darted forward, pushing the boy up against the wall, "You would do well not to remind me of that fact."
The boy was breathing heavily. His face agonised. Altair let go and the boy slumped against the wall. He turned to go, but a thought stopped him, So before jumping down onto the street below, he asked the boy," What is your name?"
The boy shrugged.
"I have no name . But remember this Assassin, one day, I will show you. I will show you, and I will beat you. Again."
The Assassin snarled at the nameless boy . Then, jumping forward on to the street below, blended into the crowd of innocents . He realized then that the boy still had his throwing knives, and he spun quickly, exspecting them to come flying towards him. But they didn't. The boy had once again disapeared.
Yes, he would remember that face.
