Chapter Nine

My work lies before me. Five slavers, many prisoners, any passersby pretending that nothing is amiss at all.

One slaver is quickly impaled through the heart, another is coughing blood.

Two down, three to go.

My blade is thirsty for blood.

Raven huffed in annoyance as she was forcefully thrown into a cage, trying not to gasp in pain as her injured thigh connected with the floor. Around her, she could hear the moans of the tortured and hopeless souls that were just as trapped as she was.

"Well," she muttered to herself, finding it in herself to shed light on the sick humor of her situation, "what do you know? The badass was captured by the very people she was going after. My reputation has been ruined."

Of course, I never really cared about my reputation until three years ago, anyways, she added in her mind.

She cursed the stupid fool that forgot to block. Oh, wait…that's me, isn't it? She asked herself rhetorically.

The vigilante was very tempted to blame all of this on Altair, because he could have obviously blocked the hit for her, and other childish thoughts. Of course, falsely accusing her sort-of partner of such things, even jokingly, was probably a bad idea.

So now, she had absolutely nothing to do except go bat-shit insane on any slavers that came around. Of course, it was rather hard to see in the dim room. What, they couldn't light a candle or something?

"At least I have time to think…I guess. I wonder who they traffic all of their slaves to. Acre, maybe? Sent to the port city, then shipped to western Europe for rich assholes with too much money and not enough work ethic."

A part of her felt like she should know the answer, like there was just one missing piece to this puzzle.

Another part of her was convinced it was linked to Altair somehow, because, for some reason, everything came back to the assassin. In fact, while she was at it, certain clues led her to believe that the man in charge of it all was his next target.

I'm saved, she thought sardonically. Why the hell did she have to become a damsel, anyways?

Well, that's simple, dumbass. You didn't learn lock picking, she chided herself.

Those pieces made her form a plan. If Altair came sometime soon, she'd wait patiently and quietly. However, if the opportunity presented itself, the next asshole to try and take her out of this cage would serve as her escape route. Either way, she was waiting. And she hated waiting. You better hurry up, you son of a bitch, she cried in her head.

Once again, he crept into her thoughts for no particular reason other than to annoy her. Perhaps she was a hypocrite, but she was really starting to get tired of it. And if this is how I feel about it, maybe I should stop giving him a hard time. Actually…nah. Call it recompense.

Her thoughts turned serious, though, as she thought about what pretty much put her in this situation. The scene in the alleyway kept replaying in her mind. Why had he helped her, anyways? It wasn't an invalid question. Any information she could give him he could find himself, and he was competent enough in battle that he didn't need her for that. The honest truth was that if anyone was using anyone in this relationship, it she that was using him, not the other way around. It couldn't even be for warm, mushy feelings, because everyone knew that he wasn't capable of such things. At least, not from what she had seen. But what did she know, anyways? He had at least as many secrets as she did. And then, what he said…

Damn, she thought, I'll be thinking about this all day if I don't get out of here.

Altair walked the streets with purpose, looking straight ahead. Any of yesterday's worries and troubles were gone, replaced by an indomitable focus and determination to complete the task given to him. He would soon be one man closer to his true target, and that much closer to restoring his rank and honor. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

Soon, he stood in front of his destination, ready to end things.

He quietly slipped through an unguarded entryway. As soon as he stepped through the threshold, the stench of death and desperation made the assassin want to gag. However, he remained composed, and thanked whatever god that was watching for the darkness.

As soon as he made a move to step forwards, however, a voice penetrated the gloom of this place. A voice that he was swiftly getting tired of hearing.

"Hey, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you! Release us all now, or the next time you try to touch me, I'll beat your ass to the point that you even be recognizable as a human being anymore! If that bothers you, then hit me! I dare you, unless you don't have the balls to do it, you bloody coward!"

On and on she ranted, and he was once again tempted to chuckle. However, he swallowed his strange mirth and followed the sound of her voice. He did not even need his sixth sense to find her, fuming like a child throwing a tantrum, and as soon as he was close enough to see her unaided, she ceased, as if she realized that she was not directing her sneers and taunts at a guard.

"Oh, Altair. It took you long enough to get here. Do you know how boring it is here? Hell, I've been here for maybe a couple of hours, and I'm already tired of it," she chided.

That was strange; he did not remember telling her of his next target. "How did you—"

"Know?" she cut off, "Simple logic, really. A black-market arms dealer, a demented doctor…master douchebag—err—slaver is the next logical step." Then what he could see of her face became thoughtful. "You know, that sounds like the start of really bad bar joke. An arms dealer, doctor and slaver all walk into a bar together…"

Her words were like a bucket of cold water. The past few weeks—had it really only been that?—suddenly made much more sense. "Garnier…Tilal supplies him, Tamir armed him. These are not random despots I am sent to kill," he muttered to himself.

"Uh…you realize that I was joking, right? Now, if you don't mind…?" she stated, gesturing to the lock that kept her in her prison. Altair snapped out of his musings and quickly worked to pick the lock. It was not a particularly complex lock, and he was surprised that she had not picked it already. Of course, he was still unsure as to why she was locked up here in the first place.

As soon as the door swung open, she pushed herself out, tensing as she put pressure on her injured leg. She seemed to stumble a little, and then regain her balance. Perhaps that is why she got captured, he noted.

"Alright," Raven said, head held high with a forced smile, "Tilal is somewhere ahead…I think. Shall we?"

"You are injured, and obviously in no shape to fight," he pointed out.

"Aw, you do care! Seriously though, I can fight just fine. There's no way in hell you're keeping me out of this," she countered.

"Then why did you get captured? I suspect that if you were not in that cage, you would have almost beat me to Tilal," he pointed out.

She seemed at a loss for words for a second, and he left her to her stupor, advancing on to the next room, when she finally spoke.

"You realize that they'll attempt to overwhelm you, right? Even you can't kill all of them by yourself," she pointed out.

"And that would simply make you a distraction. Stay here, or run back to those you shelter, I do not care. However, it is very hard for a corpse to repay debts, so one way or another, stay out of the fighting," he pointed out callously.

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I'm not afraid of you," she retorted.

"You are always so stubborn! Can you not simply listen when a person offers you common sense? I could kill you in under five seconds, yet you make it your mission to annoy me to death, as if you are trying to poison me! Just go, and do not do anything stupid," he replied harshly.

Her demeanor was calm, though that hardly meant anything. She was silent again for a while, as if looking for the right words to voice her thoughts.

"You just don't get it, do you?" she finally asked, "To a lot of people, you and your brotherhood embody death. Hell, you're assassins, not street hawkers, so it's not a large leap of logic. The thing is that death doesn't scare me. If it does, why would I, a woman, take up a sword if I wasn't willing to die for what I believed? If the guards could ever catch me, I could be executed on the principle of the matter, let alone all of the hell I give them. So, if you want to try intimidation as coercion, it'll only make me fight you harder."

She was determined, Altair would give the vigilante that. Maybe it would not be terrible to have extra help and—wait, what was he thinking? This woman had a way of twisting his thoughts, and he did not understand it.

"Why not compromise? I'm a good shot with throwing knives, and I could cover you from the rafters. I wouldn't be in immediate danger, which seems to be your argument, and I'd still be fighting, which is mine," she proposed.

"I…fine. But stay at a distance," he warned, finally giving in.

Of course, saying to stay at a distance and actually succeeding are two totally different things, as both of them realized about five minutes after Tilal sent his men against them. Raven attempted to ignore the pain in her thigh as she and Altair were back-to-back.

"What," she muttered to him, "no snide comments about staying at range?"

"I am more worried about ending Tilal and getting out alive," Altair muttered back.

If they weren't both terribly outnumbered (again), Raven just might've blushed at just how close the assassin was. It was close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating off of him, but…

Ah, what the hell?! Are you a twenty-one year old badass or a thirteen year school girl, Anerali? A voice in her head chided her.

She ignored her thoughts and focused on the current predicament. There were fifteen melee fighters, and at least five archers, from what the vigilante could see. She didn't know how she could last on her injured leg without having to retreat to a distance, but there were probably too many to take out before that occurred. She would have to do what she could, and look to Altair to make up the difference.

They moved into the fray as one, Altair going one way, and Raven the other. Luckily, these men hardly seemed elite, and between the two of them, the hoard was swiftly cut down to only a couple of foot soldiers. One of them was currently engaged with Altair, the other was running…with Tilal.

"Hey! Assassin!" she called out over the clashing of swords, gesturing frantically to where the cowardly slaver was fleeing.

"I am a bit busy at the moment," he called back, irritated.

Then I guess it's up to me, she thought, praying to whatever higher power there may be that her legs didn't give out for this inconvenient injury. Raven took a deep breath, and as she was breathing out, began sprinting, making sure that the man stayed within her sight. She would admit that he was somewhat fast…but the only problem was that she was faster, even injured. It wasn't long before he was pinned to the ground.

The vigilante made sure to break his legs, so that he couldn't get up, before moving to find Altair again. As she began moving, though, he grabbed her sleeve.

"You…are not the assassin," he declared weakly, gritting his teeth through his pain, "You are not even a man. Yet you fight, and you come after me. Why?"

It took all of her willpower not to snort. "Well that's pretty simple, actually. First, I owe 'the assassin' a debt, and I'm not one to renage. Second, your men caged me and hundreds of others like animals, as if we don't have the right to be free. Third, I'm not the kind of girl to be quiet and submissive if there are other options. Now, why don't just stay put like the nice, docile kitty you really are and start praying to your god before you die by your hunter's hand?" she suggested.

From the little bit of light pouring through the window, Tilal's face was priceless. Too bad she didn't know how to fast sketch. Oh, well, she thought, I should probably go look for Altair now.

That didn't take long, however, as Altair had been searching for Tilal.

Their exchange was quick, and the slaver's life was ended cleanly. However, Altair looked more puzzled now than ever by whatever they were talking about. She wasn't paying a lot of attention.

After a while, he finally got up, facing her directly.

"You…have helped me a great deal recently. I wanted to…thank you," he said, with no small amount of difficulty. However, she was surprised to hear the sincerity in his tone. There was no amount of flippancy or anything else present there. She wondered…

"Well…yes. That's what I'm here for, right?" she pointed out, appreciating that her hood would cover the worst of any blushing.

"Perhaps…" he trailed, before walking past her with a sort of deliberate slowness.

"Before you go…I just want to say…well, I'm sorry. For…everything," she stated, before turning on her own heel and patting down Tilal's corpse for any kind of key to free his prisoners. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have almost sworn that he tensed up…but that was probably just my imagination, she noted mentally.

Nevertheless, it took him a few seconds to start walking again, leaving Raven to her work…and her jumbled thoughts.

A/n: WOW, it's been a LONG week, and I haven't really had time to work on this, so…sorry.

In other news, Altair is sharing some of the spotlight now, yay! Or, you know, Raven was just so pissed off this time around that she monopolized this chapter…oh, well. And next chapter, we'll be in the double digits for chapters! It's so exciting!

Anyways, for the bar joke thing…I've been wanting to crack that one for the last two chapters, at least. Too bad that those two naturally like to argue :(

Anways, seeing as how we're pretty much done with the first three assassinations or so, I'm gonna start going back and editing previous chapters and stuff…so a true update will probably be a long time coming. BUT, I will hopefully make this story better than it is, so yeah…

Anyways, thanks for everyone who takes the time to read my silly little fiction (and be warned that some of the funny will by subtly taken away starting next chapter), and especially to reviewers! To those who favorite and follow, but have not dropped a comment yet (which is some of you), I challenge you to tell me what you think, because all ideas and critiques and stuff are taken into consideration when writing.

So, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time, chiiiildreeen! (Oh, wait…this isn't Fallout 3, is it? Oh, well, I went there.)