Iohannes jumped, arm drawing back in a lethal, venomous last strike as gravity itself brought him to his target. He launched forward, blade burying itself in the man's neck as they fell to the ground as one, rather than two. His ninth target, the last one. For the Brotherhood, he would be held in high regard once more.

"Congratulations." The Templar whispered sarcastically, his head held up only by Iohannes' hand, rather than his free will. "You're late though... There were... Ten."

"Ten?" The assassin asked, his brow knitting as he processed the meaning behind such a statement. "Pieces of Eden? The artifacts you are searching for?"

"No..."

"What then!" He nearly shouted. "Tell me!"

"Or what, want to kill me, boy?" The Templar attempted a dry chuckle, coughing blood instead. "I suppose it is only fair... You have been deceived..."

"Deceived, brother? By whom?"

"A brother... In your guild." Iohannes felt the icy grip of fear gripping his stomach. "Brother... Yes. We were always fighting on the same side, only neither of us... Ever knew it."

"I don't understand. Please, explain."

"You must kill him... The Templar..." His eyelids drooped, the Templar attempted to snap to attention. "Your... Leader..." The word fell from his lips as a sigh, Iohannes resting his head on the cold ground, wrapping his sword beneath his right hand, as a soldier would, before he whispered an ancient prayer over the man's body. The Templar were not right, but if what the older man had said to the wind, their leader was a part of the Templar Order too. As for that same team business, he could only assume that it was in reference to the pieces of Eden, or rather, the Apple of Eden, an artifact that had to have been destroyed, for it was too powerful. Swinging up into the rafters, the assassin called down a hawk, sending it out to the one person he knew would send him aid, regardless of the circumstances. Sneaking out of the city, he refused to look back, refused to see what he had done. Instead he mounted up on a horse, his black mare from so many months before, the one that had been dutifully running between all four of the major cities in the kingdom.

"We're going home, Lady." The assassin whispered, bending low over her neck as she flew down the curvacious path, putting as much effort into her job as she had in the very beginning. Something things never changed, even as the world seemed to fall apart around them. "Back to Masyaf." There were many points in which they slowed, in which his horse ducked her head in, as if they were simple merchants, blending with the crowds. Normally, these times would be ones spent thinking, reviewing information gathered from jobs well created. This? This was not one of those times. Iohannes tried not to think of anything, anything at all. Instead, he focused on the blur of the landscape as it flew by, nearly faster than the assassin's eye could make out. The land was beautiful, in the Kingdom. He could really care less though, stopping outside of the gates of Masyaf. He had a mission now, nothing else really mattered. The darker skinned rafique stood up from a bench, pulling his hood up over his head as he did so, blade glittering beneath the missing finger of his left hand. "Barach."

"Iohannes." They clasped hands, before looking into the city. "They're under some sort of control, many of them. Those loyal to the creed are going to be a distraction, while you go in for Cavanaugh." The assassin nodded, signaling the start of such a simple plan. Jumping immediately to the rooftop, it was no surprise to see something that closely resembled an army, marching towards the gates of Masyaf. An army of white- coated assassins, heading towards the smaller number of those who had once been their brethren. Yet they seemed as if they were only shells of their previous selves. Shells, not the people themselves. Iohannes crept onward though the city that had once been his home with only one purpose, swinging up into the main room of the assassins' fortress, standing straight as he focused on who had once been his master.

"Cavanaugh."

"Iohannes ibn- Inshallah." The name came out in a growl. "Your honor has been restored-"

"My honor was never lost due to words of yours." The glimmering sphere in his hands caught the assassin's attention, and he let the dark chocolate orbs narrow. "The Apple of Eden, I should of known you already had it within your possession."

"I didn't, until your seventh target. You gave me the information to discover its whereabouts, to rescue such a brilliant item from the clutches of a deserted, desolate tomb. I thank you, Iohannes."

"There is nothing to thank me for, it won't be in your clutches for long." The assassin drew his sword with the merest fraction of a second between the motion and the meeting of two blades. The orb glowed, pulsing slightly The ex- master of the brotherhood growled in what seemed to frustration.

"Why is it, that you can not be controlled?!"

"The Creed, I remain loyal to the Assassin's Creed." There was a long moment where swords clashed, before Iohannes whirled, stabbing downward with his hidden blade, driving it into the jugular of the man. It was climactic, and anti- climactic at the same time. It was almost like the end of a journey that had really yet to begin. Iohannes crouched beside the crippled man, pulling a feather from his belt, wiping the blood of his enemy upon it.

"The Apple... Its..." The piece had dropped to the ground, rolling just out of reach of the elder assassin. "There are more. More than one. Two others- this one shall show the... Locations. Use it wisely." He sighed. "Go forth, God be willing."

"Inshallah, brother." Iohannes stood, grasping the apple, which almost immediately brought up a map, and something so much more. He narrowed his eyes. There was so much more to this story, so many more pieces. But the Apples, they were too strong. They had to be destroyed, and quickly. Turning, the man closed his eyes, the image of the map burned there, as he dropped the piece, only listening as it shattered. Readying his blade, he turned back towards a silent Masyaf. He was still an assassin, and he still had a job to do.