Author's Note: Gah, I'm so late! I'm sorry, my dear readers, but it seems time really does fly *sigh*. Plus, I kept finding myself OOCing Altair everytime I write now; I think I played with Connor way too much on ACIII... But, I finally have the Chapter written and ready to post. Also, thank you to all the readers who have followed, favored, and/or reviewed this story: it's a great feeling to see those special emails in my inbox, letting me know that you are reading and loving this story. :) Hope y'all enjoy!

Reply to Reviews:

Who am I: Sorry for the late update! I'm super glad though that you are enjoying this story and I hope this Chapter makes up for my absense. Thank you for the review. :)

unknown author: Thank you and I hope you enjoy this Chapter as well!

DanAlaya: Yeah, Altair can be a little...rough around the edges. He'll come around though...sometime. And I did feel bad for Sa'ida; I would be traumatised myself if I went through that :/ Thanks for the review!

Sera22: Yep, Altair is making progress; slowly and steadily. Although, he doesn't really help poor, shocked Sa'ida. One step at a time, I suppose. Thank you for your review and please, enjoy the long awaited Chapter. :)

Suomenlinna: I guess you could say that Altair's inner conscience came into play here. Sa'ida was blamed for something he did, so he felt a little guilty. And also, I look at the guards of the cities of Syria as enemies of Altair, since in his Eagle Vision they are red. Therefore, I do believe they pose a threat. But I do see where Altair could be overreacting and I will work on it :). I appreciate the review and I hope you enjoy this Chapter!

Designation Drift: Thanks! It's good to know the characters are, well, in character; I sometimes fret over whether I captured their personalities correctly or not. And a Transformers fan? I do believe we share the same fandom interests then ^_^. Thanks for the review and please, enjoy the new update. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed in any form or blade. I only own my OCs (Sa'ida Basilah, Ghalib Basilah, Fahdah Ishraq, and 'Azab). Credit goes to DecepticonShadowfire for helping me with Sa'ida's name.

Chapter IV:

Assassination

"Make the best use of what is in your power, and take the rest as it happens." -Epictetus

The day was hot, a warm breeze weaving through the clay buildings and slender palm trees, making the day even more uncomfortable. A few unlucky souls were caught in the heat as they worked and guards huffed in irritation, wanting to be anywhere than outside in the dreaded heat. Indeed, it was a miserable day for just about everyone within Damascus' walls.

Near the very center of Damascus sat a single-story building with an airy lattice rooftop and a weatherworn symbol marking its exterior, hidden away from the citizens' prying eyes. The symbol, however, meant very little to the people except for a few choice souls who belonged to the group who bore the symbol. And Altair was one of those choice souls.

The former Master Assassin sat in a nest of pillows underneath the latticework rooftop, examining his gleaming sword. The bloodstains from yesterday's battle were completely washed away from its surface and it was shining once again. He ran his thumb over the sword's sharp edge all the way down to its pointed tip, than ran it down the opposite side. Its edges were still keen, making it perfectly suitable for a fiery swordfight if one should ensue. However, Altair doubted this. With stealth on his side, he could easily dispatch of Tamir with a single thrust of his hidden blade and then escape before the guards took notice. Then it was off to Masyaf to report his success to Al Mualim and then back on the rode to find the next target. A long but necessary process.

Altair swung the blade testily through the air in a downwards motion, than repeated the process in the opposite direction. He was deep in thought. What he was thinking about, however, he wasn't quite sure himself. His mind did a rare thing: it wondered. Sometimes he would settle upon a thought and consider it momentarily; but then, he just shoved it to the side and moved on the next thought in line. And the worst part was that it was the same thoughts resurfacing over and over again. He would go over Tamir's assassination and consider the possibilities; then he would mull over how much progress he needed to accomplish before his rank was restored; and finally, he would muse over yesterday's battle. A constant loop that frustrated Altair to no end.

Not only was it frustrating, the last thought seemed out of place. That battle was over and won and needed no further consideration, unless he was missing something. No, there was nothing; simply a kind deed to settle his conscience. The guards were dead, save for one who ran; he had thoroughly frightened the man who had declared the accusation; and the woman was safe. Perhaps a bit shocked, but she was safe and that was what mattered. So why did the thought gnaw at him?

Without warning, the sword slipped from Altair's palm and landed with a noisy clatter onto the ground. The former Master Assassin stared accusingly at the blade for a moment before snatching it up once again and shoving it into its sheath with a sharp shing. To Altair's relief, his monotonous train of thought was broken and he was brought back to reality. From the opposite room, odd shuffling noises could be heard before the door to aforementioned room opened, revealing an optimistic Rafiq.

"Ah, Altair! Good morning, good morning. I was sure you would be off by now to claim your target's life," the Rafiq greeted as he propped the door open and ventured back into his respective room. It would never cease to amuse Altair how the Rafiq seemed to take death so…lightly. Rising, Altair wondered over to the open door, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the Rafiq return to his work. Judging by the work already strewn out in front of him, the Rafiq had been up longer than Altair had originally thought.

"Tamir will not make an appearance until later in the afternoon," Altair informed the other man impatiently.

"Then perhaps you could rid the area of rooftop guards, examine the layout, plan an advantage point and escape-"

"I have already prepared myself," Altair snapped. "I know when to strike and what execution will better benefit me. I have four possible escape routes memorized as well."

"And the guards? Have you found routes around them, or perhaps disposed a few of them?" the Rafiq asked coolly, glancing up only once to look into the shadows of Altair's hood. The former Master Assassin began to answer, then closed his mouth in brief hesitation. When he found his voice once again, he spoke confidently:

"My escape will go unnoticed."

It didn't truly answer the question, but seemed to suffice because the Rafiq only nodded his head in acknowledgement. Altair lingered in the doorway for a few minutes longer in unnerving silence, continuing to watch the Rafiq work until he grew restless. He left the doorway without another word to the Rafiq and made his way to the far wall. Once there, he shinnied up the wall with practiced ease until he reached the square opening in the latticework. His head poked through and he scanned his surroundings. Peaceful and smoldering hot. Nothing unusual. He hoisted the rest of himself through the opening and faced the direction of his destination.

He rolled his shoulders a couple of times and flexed his fingers. Glancing down at the hidden blade bracer on his left forearm, he adjusted the straps and unsheathed and sheathed the blade until he was satisfied. With one last roll of his shoulders, Altair set off at a brisk jog across the rooftops with the sun beating down on his white robes and the red sash trailing behind him. The clay, two-story dwellings remained relatively level with only the occasional gap between them which he easily leapt across. Surprisingly, everything seemed so…calm.

The calm before the storm, Altair reminded himself solemnly.

That afternoon Altair found himself at the souk where Tamir would be arriving at to receive his 'merchandise.' He slipped down a crevice between two adjacent dwellings, landing in an awkward crouch. Straightening, he slowly made his way down the narrow alleyway until he reached the exit and stepped out into the open. It was decently crowded, especially in the center of the souk where a square reservoir sat with a wooden covering shading the area. The stone benches were crowded and citizens bumped into each other as they tried to find a spot in the shade.

Altair wandered around the souk casually as he waited for his target to make his arrival. As he did so, he examined the rooftops, taking note of any watchful archers that could be on patrol. There were three. One paced back and forth on the two-story building to the west; the other two archers stood warily at the souk's northeast entrance, gazing down at the citizens from their three-story perches.

Shifting his gaze, Altair then examined the crowd around him for guards. There was group of three that guarded the bustling east entrance, making citizens eye them warily as they passed. Any other guards were weaving through the crowds by themselves, hands on the hilt of their swords.

Altair found a seat on a stone bench pressed close to the wall of a tall building, its shade providing another means of escaping the dreadful heat. His escape to the northeast was no longer an option, so that left Altair with his remaining three. He would also need to uphold caution with the multiple guards that roamed the souk. Just a mere suspicion from a single guard could result in disaster for Altair. But first, he needed to dispose of the target before he began worrying of an escape.

As he waited, Altair couldn't help but think of the horrendous possibility of that curious woman showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time once again. It caused enough problems the first time; Altair didn't want a second go-round. The thought made a faint, grim smile cross his lips.

"Your men failed to fill the order, which means I have failed my client!" a male's enraged voice exclaimed over the din of the crowd. Altair lifted his gaze to see two men enter from the west entrance. The man who spoke was finely dressed in luxurious red and gold robes and his face was contorted and slightly red in anger. The second man who followed close behind was much simpler in comparison, wearing simple, pale brown robes; his bearded features held that of irritancy and slight concern and panic.

"We need more time…" the second man expressed, almost pleading.

"This is the excuse of a lazy or incompetent man. Which are you?" the first asked, turning to face the imposing man once he reached the shaded center of the souk.

"Neither," the second retorted.

Altair stood from his sitting position and ventured towards the two arguing men, pushing the staring citizens out of his path. He was confident this finely dressed man was none other than Tamir himself. His target.

"What I see says otherwise…" Tamir said lowly. "Now, tell me: what do you intend to do to solve this problem of ours? These weapons are needed now."

The still unnamed man splayed his hands before him in an exasperated gesture. "I see no solution. My men work day and night, but your client requires so much. And the destination" - he shook his head - "it is a difficult road."

At that, Tamir glowered. "Were it that you could produce weapons with the same skill you produce excuses!"

"I've done all I can," the second man gave-in, his expression bland as he stared into Tamir's dark and foreboding gaze. By now, a large crowd had gathered around the two arguing men, whispering and chattering amongst themselves as they watched. Altair stood at the ready, peering over the heads of the small group of people that stood between him and Tamir.

"It is not enough," Tamir growled.

"Then perhaps you ask too much." And with that, the second man began to walk away with Tamir staring holes into his back. He did not get far, however, before Tamir spoke again in a dangerously low voice.

"Too much? I gave you everything! Without me, you would still be charming serpents for coin." Here, Tamir sneered in open mockery before continuing. "All I asked for in return was that you fill the orders I bring you; and you say I ask too much?" Tamir leaned over close and spit in the second man's face, causing the opposing man to cower away in fear and concern. "How dare you disrespect me?"

"Please, Tamir…I meant no insult…" the second man pleaded, voice quavering. Whatever bravery he once had was now gone. Altair shoved past the remaining citizens that stood in front of him so he could have a clear path to Tamir when the time to strike dawned.

"Then you should have kept your mouth shut." With a single, quick movement, Tamir unsheathed a dagger and cut the cowering man clean across his abdomen. Citizens shrunk back in utter terror, a few shrieks emitting from the surrounding women. However, there was nothing Altair could do for this man; Tamir had him trapped.

"No, please, stop!" the injured man cried, grasping at the fresh wound as the blood began to soak through his robes. His gaze held fear and regret as he stared up at his attacker.

"Stop?" Tamir chuckled darkly. "I'm just getting started." Tamir continued his assault with renewed vigor and wicked amusement. Slash after slash; relentless and disturbing and horrid. Blood flew and feminine shrieks increased as the scene played out. Yet Altair watched, his emotions not fluctuating once; although, he found himself veering his gaze away from the bloodshed, listening to Tamir as he yelled at the dying man before him. "You come into my souk, stood before my men, and you dare to insult me?" The slashes turned to forceful stabs through the man's back. Repeatedly, and Altair heard each time the blade struck flesh. He counted a total of six impacts before the man tumbled into the reservoir. Altair lifted his gaze in time to see the life dissipate from the man's eyes and watch as his blood stained the once crystal clear water.

A servant steps forward to take care of the savaged body, but Tamir pushes aforementioned servant back with his free hand. "Leave the body." He then turned his hateful gaze upon the large crowd of people that surrounded the reservoir. "Let this be a lesson to the rest of you. Think twice before you tell me something cannot be done… Now get back to work!" And just like that, the crowd thinned and the people went about their business.

Tamir walked away from the dead body, his back turned to the imposing threat behind him. His mistake. Altair pushed the people that now swarmed his path, jogging towards his target, his hidden blade arm drawn back and ready to strike. With his path cleared, Altair sprinted forward, unsheathed his hidden blade, pounced, and let his blade sink into the neck of his target.

-o-

The world around them seemed to dissolve and time slowed to a stop. Altair slowly lowered Tamir's body to the ground, blood trailing from the wound on the Templar's neck and onto Altair's gloved hand.

"Be at peace…" Altair murmured as he kneeled beside his downed target.

"You'll pay for this," was Tamir's answer, although his voice held no anger, no hatred. It was filled with regret. "You, and all your kind."

Altair dismissed Tamir's words. "It seems you're the one who pays now, my friend. You will not profit from suffering any longer."

Tamir shook his head in disgust. "You think me some petty death-dealer, suckling at the breast of war?! A strange target, don't you think? Why me, when so many others do the same?"

"You believe yourself different then?" It was more of a conclusion than a question.

"Oh, but I am, for I serve a far nobler cause than mere profit. Just like my brothers…" A faint smile crossed Tamir's lips, a thoughtful look flashing across his eyes.

Altair canted his head. "Brothers?"

At that, Tamir's smile widened to a grin that drew a frown to Altair's own features. "Ah, but he thinks I act alone." Tamir shakes his head slowly. "I am but a piece; a man with a part to play. You'll come to know the others soon enough. They won't take kindly to what you've done."

"Good." The word came out with bitterness, anger, and a touch of misplaced pride. "I look forward to ending their lives as well."

Tamir exhaled laboriously. "Such pride…it will destroy you, child…" And with that, Tamir's life slipped away into the cold embrace of death. Altair laid him down gently, taking the white feather from his pouch and swiped it across Tamir's neck wound. The scarlet-colored blood ruined the pristine white of the feather. Altair returned the feather to his pouch before standing and turning his back to the dead man, the world slowly coming back into focus once again.

-o-

Altair found himself in the center of attention, much to his dismay. At first, it was silence as the people slowed to a stop once again and tried to puzzle out what had happened. Then realization struck and a petite woman screamed, causing the entire souk to erupt into chaos. The patrolling guards charged forward, swords drawn and curses leaving their lips. Altair turned sharply and ran fast and hard towards the alley he had used to enter the souk earlier. The main exits were no doubt blocked, the guards anticipating the murderer to escape that way. How foolishly wrong. He adjusted his position so he was sideways, making it easier to slip into the alley. Behind him, guards hollered and armor clinked and clacked as they sought pursuit, but Altair never glanced back at them. Just keep going. Never look back or slow down until you are positive you have lost your pursuers, Altair remembered.

He reached the exit of the alley and stepped out onto the wide street, veering right at a sprint and staying close to the dwellings that lined aforementioned street. Citizens looked to him in confusion, wisely stepping out of his way lest they wanted to be trampled. Quick footsteps echoed behind him, and Altair sought out an alternative route once again. Improvising, he clambered up a mound of loosely stacked crates and then scampered up the wall of the adjacent building. Along the rooftop he went until he reached a beam that stretched across the street below and touched the opposing clay dwellings. Not hesitating, he placed foot-over-foot until he reached the other side. He then ran the length of the rooftop and climbed down the other side, his boots thumping lightly once he reached the bottom.

His chest moved up and down rapidly as he drew in deep breaths, his sharp eyes scanning for a place to blend in to until the guards ceased their search. Already, the church bell begin to toll, alerting the town of Tamir's death. The Bureau was still a ways away, and the guards of the city would be on the lookout for any suspicious characters; and his hooded, well armed demeanor would not help his case.

Further down the rode, Altair could see a small garden positioned awkwardly between two towering three-story housing units. Perfect.

Sa'ida couldn't help but feel frightened and relieved once she heard the tolling church bell.

That day, Fahdah, herself, and their fellow dancers were supposed to attend a party in the rich district; but, due to the intense heat, it was called off. Fahdah had then somehow convinced Sa'ida to join her in her 'favorite' garden to have a little 'chat' since they had no other parties to attend. Sa'ida was reluctant at first, but eventually agreed after some persistent pleading.

However, their simple 'chat' quickly turned for the worst; for Sa'ida. Apparently, word had traveled about the middle district - as well as parts of the rich and poor districts - of her arrest yesterday. Fahdah then began to pester Sa'ida with question upon how she dealt with the guards and how was she released. Not many who are arrested ever are released. In turn, Sa'ida sheepishly told Fahdah about the man in the white hood and how he had assisted her in her predicament. And, as soon as the tale was finished, Fahdah turned the mysterious man into some…secret admirer vigilante…and began to ask every question she could formulate about him; much to Sa'ida's irritancy.

"How tall was he?"

"I suppose he was a half a head taller than I…"

"What did he look like?"

"I don't know. His face was hidden by his hood."

A wide and excited grin. "Oh, so he's the mysterious type… Was he strong?"

"He took down four armed men."

A giggle. "Did he say anything to you? What was his voice like?"

A frustrated sigh. "Deep. Emotionless. Hard. Is that good enough?"

A contemplated look. "Seems like you have quite the man there."

"Fahdah, he simply helped me in a time of need. I do not know him, neither does he know me, and I highly doubt he has a sliver of attraction to me. Besides, having a man like that…I would be on edge constantly. He would be a hard man to love period."

"Denial…"

"Fahdah!"

The conversation ended with Fahdah smiling and laughing and claiming Sa'ida was blushing, causing the shy woman to tug her hood over her face. This wasn't funny to her. She saw that man kill four guards, saw the blood splattered upon the pavement, watch the life slip away from those guards' eyes. She was terrorized by the hooded man, wondering what type of man was hidden in those shadows. Fahdah probably imagined some handsome hero, but Sa'ida imagined a cold, hard man that had no desire but to murder. She may be thankful for what he did for her, but she had no desire to meet him again.

It was then, when Fahdah was just about to ask another series of questions, that the thunderous toll of the bell rang through Damascus. Both Sa'ida and Fahdah looked around, as if they would find their answers within the cool and peaceful garden. Mentally, Sa'ida counted the number of rings between each pause. Three; there were three frantic tolls. Normally the bell didn't ring that number of times unless declaring someone's death. Or murder.

The other citizens that also resided within the garden rose from their seats and went to the entrance of the garden to see what the commotion was about, open fear and curiosity in their eyes. Sa'ida and Fahdah followed suit and made their way to join the group. Once they reached the rear of the gathering, they began to gently push their way through to get a better view, occasionally standing on their tiptoes in an attempt to improve their vision. However, they didn't get far before Sa'ida bumped into a figure walking in the opposite direction.

Embarrassed, Sa'ida glanced up so she could apologize; but the words were caught in her throat as she was met with the shadow of a hood. It was him. They stood there, staring at each other in utter silence, only to be interrupted with Fahdah bumping into Sa'ida's back. Fahdah glanced over her friend's shoulder to see the man that stood before them; and that's when the realization dawned.

"Isn't that the man who-"

"Yes," Sa'ida interrupted. He only stared, like he was mesmerized, sending chills down Sa'ida's spine. Beyond the remaining civilians that stood in front of them, Sa'ida could hear the clanking of armor. Guards. Should she report this man? It couldn't be a coincidence that she ran into him once again, here and now. Was he following her? The thought frightened her to no end.

But, before she could even take a step forward, she felt a rough, calloused hand wrap around her elbow and pulled her back into the garden. He used his other hand to pull Fahdah along as well.

"What are you-"

"Just stay calm," the mysterious man responded, deep voice the same as she last remembered it. Hard and emotionless.

"So you can kill us?" Sa'ida practically hissed, causing one older woman to eye them warily. The man released his grip, wrapped his arm around Sa'ida's shoulders, and brought his hand around to cup it around her mouth. That set off alarms in Sa'ida's head as her heart picked up the pace, beating loud within her chest.

He led them to the bench Sa'ida and Fahdah had sat at earlier. They sat down with him in the middle, Sa'ida on his left, and Fahdah on his right. He removed his hand from Sa'ida's mouth and murmured, "Relax. Try to blend in." He paused, then added, "Act as though I were your man."

The suggestion didn't make Sa'ida relax; rather, it increased her stress and tension. How could she act like she loved this man? Why would he want her too in the first place? Sa'ida glanced over at Fahdah, who was trying to do as she was told. If Sa'ida didn't know any better, she probably would've been fooled. Fahdah let her flirtatious side take over, and the mysterious hooded man quirked his scarred lips in a - do doubt - forced smile.

Back towards the group, a couple of guards were searching amongst them, asking questions that Sa'ida could not hear. They were looking for somebody; no doubt whoever just killed that poor soul…then it struck her. He was the killer. Of course he was! Why else would he want Fahdah and herself to act this way? Try to blend in, he had said.

He must have taken notice in her increased tension, and he shifted, leaning down close so he could whisper in her ear, "I am not going to harm you. But if you do not relax and act as if nothing is wrong, then all three of us will be caught; and the end results will not forebode well…" - another pause - "You do owe me a favor for saving your life yesterday." His warm breath brushed against her cheek and a shudder ran through her body.

As much as she hated to do any favors for this man, he was right. She at least owed him something for what he did for her yesterday. Not only that, she didn't want Fahdah or herself being dragged into his mess. Resentfully, she relaxed, and slowly sank back into his warmth while her mind flashed warnings and screamed how foolish she was to help him. In response, he tightened his arm around her shoulders and flashed her a ghost of a smile; a smile she openly ignored.

A good ten minutes went by before the footsteps of the guards finally diminished and the group of curious civilians went about their own business. It was then that Sa'ida pushed away from the hooded man's embrace and got to her feet. He seemed mildly shocked, but he did not attempt to pull her back. He only retracted his arm away from Fahdah and stood slowly, standing tall and proud above Sa'ida.

He started to leave, but Sa'ida called after him in a low voice. "You killed a man, didn't you? That's why you needed us. To become inconspicuous."

He paused and looked over his shoulder. Sa'ida caught a glimpse of amber-colored eyes. "Perhaps." Then he continued forward without another word. His silence grinded against Sa'ida's nerves.

Sa'ida looked over at Fahdah. She still seemed a little shaken and confused over what just transpired, but she seemed to be holding up for the moment. Sa'ida then glanced back so she could ask the hooded man another question, but he was nowhere to be found within the garden. She blinked a couple times in surprise before she strode to the entrance and looked up and down the street. Nothing but a few wandering souls.

He was gone.

A/N: And...scene! Altair mysteriously disappears...nothing unusual here. Also, Tamir's life comes to an end; a fate that awaits his Templar brothers as well... And Sa'ida remains confused and infuriated with Altair. Wonder what could happen next...knowing me, anything. In fact, I never really planned the part with Sa'ida, Fahdah, and Altair...I have no clue where that came from, but I like it. But, most importantly, I hope y'all enjoyed this awfully late Chapter! Please let me know what you think by R&R.

Until next time...