5 YEARS LATER

Ashiran watched the city. It was these streets on which he had been forced to learn how to survive on his own. And so he knew them well. The night was coming, and the sun had turned a deep orange colour, sending streaks of red across the clouded sky. Below him, the people of Damascus hurried home before the darkness fell and the drunks and thieves woke. Over the years, the scum of the city had grown and like a plague had spread across even the richest areas of Damascus. As he watched, beggars grabbed onto the legs of passer-by's, moaning and pleading for scraps. The men and women who were being harassed by them simply pulled away, ignoring the anguished cry's as they quickened their pace. The was soon empty for all but the beggars and a few men.

Ashiran stared on as a certain man, middle-class by the looks of his clothes, with his arms full of food for his family, was circled by a group of the beggars. They're hands grasped for the food, groans escaping from hungry mouths. The man looked around him in horror.

" G…g…g…get away from me!" He stuttered, his hands clasping the food tightly to his chest. But still they crept closer. He was saved by the guards. One of them walked towards the group, "Alright, that's enough of that, you filthy pigs." He called out to them, disgust plain on his face. Most of the beggars had the sense to back away, but one child, around the age of nine, tried one last grab for the food. His hand shot out and clamped on a small loaf of bread. But before he could scamper of with his prize, the guard grabbed the child by his hair and dragged him back over to where the rest of the guards stood, laughing at the boy's feeble attempts to break away.

The man used his opportunity to run away, his hands still clasped to his chest with the bundle of food. The beggars however, simply backed away, creeping back into alleyways and shadows, not wanting to witness the cruelty to come.

The boy was still struggling, much to the guards humour. One guard, a young man with a beard, stepped in front of the boy and drew his sword. He smiled cruelly.

"Looks like we've caught you, you thieving rat. But don't worry, we won't kill you. No, we are to kind for that," He laughed cruelly, his friends echoing him." But we can't just set you free to thieve again little rat. No. We can't do that."

The guard stepped forward and placed his sword at the boy's neck. He grinned as the boy whimpered quietly. Ashiran frowned, from his vantage point at the top of a tall building looking over the street he could see the scene perfectly. Six guards in total, including the one standing with his sword at the boy's throat. He should be able to take them. He made up his mind and slowly began to scale down the building. Then he dropped silently to the ground for the last few meters, landing behind the guards. They didn't notice him sneaking closer. They didn't hear him draw his knife.

Meanwhile, the guard was still entertaining his friends.

"So we can't take his head. But maybe we could take his hand. Maybe we could take both his hands. So that he can't go stealing anymore food from innocent men."

Once more the guards laughed. The bearded one pulled the boy's arm towards him and pinned in to the ground, trapping the boy's wrist under his boot.

"Perhaps we should take a foot as…"

Ashiran whistled sharply, causing the guards to spin round hands on sword hilts. They almost laughed when they saw him. A young man, probably only fifteen, with a sharp scowl and a small knife clutched in his grip, his clothes were clean at least, but they were not the finery of the rich, simply a black tunic, tied around the waist with a thick leather belt, and brown pants - that appeared to be to short for him. He wasn't even wearing boots.

And yet, there was fierceness to him. And a look of fury in his eyes. The boy stepped forwards slowly, and the guards drew their weapons. The bearded guard was about to make a cutting remark when the boy suddenly shot forwards, grabbing the guard nearest to him and slitting his throat in a spray of crimson.

5

They all attacked at once. Ashiran ducked under one mans blade, then spun round and with his elbow pushed the man forwards, causing him to lose balance, before he could drive the dagger into the mans back however, he was forced to deflect an attack from another guard. The man who had lost his balance however managed to crash into another guard, and the two of them fell to the floor, tangled.

He used this chance and dodging an attack from the bearded guard, drove his dagger into one of the mans chest.

4

He didn't have time to kill the other however as yet another attack flew towards him, he only just managed to dodge it though , and even as he spun back round to face the guards, he felt blood trickle down his left arm. He stood still for one moment, catching his breath back, then once again struck forward, striking the bearded guard in the head, slashing his face, it was messy and didn't kill him, but the man stumbled backwards, blood pouring. Then, dropping his sword on his way, fell to the ground.

Ashiran grasped the fallen sword eagerly, thankful for a more defensive weapon. He faced the remaining guards. One, a man with only one ear and a long scar reaching from his cheekbone to chin, swung his sword viciously at Ashiran, but the attack held no skill and the boy easily counterattacked, driving his sword deep into the mans chest.

3

Pulling the sword free Ashiran quickly spun, attacking the next guard, this time slashing the mans arm and neck in a sudden flurry of steel. He fell, dead.

2

The guard facing him was the only one that hadn't already tried to attack him, he had hung back instead, waiting for the other guards to either weaken him or finish him.

Ashiran feinted right, and as the guard moved to block the attack, pulled out his dagger with his left hand. And then, in one fluid movement, he punched it into the guard's neck.

1

Ashiran let the body fall to the ground. A smile formed on his lips as he turned to his final opponent, the bearded man, who was rolling on the floor in agony. He stepped forwards towards the man. Then a thought occurred to him, where was the child?

He looked around him, but the boy had left, probably horrified at the murder he had seen. Shrugging to himself he turned back to the guard, who was trying to crawl away while Ashiran's back was turned. Anger washed over him. This was a man who was prepared to cripple a child simply for stealing bread. A monster. He deserved to be punished.

Ashiran glared down at the man at his feet, watching as the guards hand crept towards a discarded sword that lay near Ashiran's feet. The boy's foot moved quickly to stamp down on the man's wrist. His eyes narrowed. He knew what punishment the guard deserved. Year's ago, when the Assassin had rejected him, he had promised to himself that he would learn to be a killer. That he would learn to be ruthless. So that one day, he would beat the assassin Altair once more. Ashiran glanced down at the bodies around him. He was a killer certainly. And he was ruthless.

He pushed down on the man's wrist even harder and with a grim smile drew back his sword…