Hey all!
Not going to apologize from the huge lapse in updates– it only makes me feel more lugubrious! Rage at me if you feel so inclined in a review or PM.
Anyways, here's the next chapter; it's a little bit shorter, however, the next, as always, will be longer. Let me know how I'm doing in a review– I live to see the notification in my inbox!
If you follow my other fics, updates are coming soon for those as well; I'm trying to finish off this fic, and Detest to Devotion. I'm also hoping to finish LTGU and focus on Transcendence.
Enjoy the time off! (if you're on March Break also, if not... errr... enjoy the chapter (?))
Ubisoft owns.
Read, review, and repeat!
"Oh, how the tables would seem to turn." Maria growled, bitterly.
Altaïr's face was set as stone, though his mouth still bore evidence of his pain, "Enough of your games, woman; you would do well to answer quickly."
"Answer what precisely? You've yet to do anything but assault me!" Despite his firm grip on her arms, she wriggled in protest, only stopping with a jerk as his elbow dug into her ribs. Altaïr resisted a disdainful laugh as he listened to her bellowing curse.
"Such… expressions would belittle your feminine image; but I forget, you hardly did depict such an ideal."
"Do you, in fact, have a point to make Assassin? Or are you merely proving what a contumelious, sanguinolent –"
Another swift jab to her ribs silenced any further insults she prepared to pepper him with.
"What was your business with Mamraj? What did your masters instruct?"
"As if you would be made privy to such information." Her mouth was set in a tight line, "You would prosper by saving your banal questions for someone who knows the answers."
"Someone who has answers? So your 'brothers' do not hold you in regard to–"
"My brothers do not factor into this – this was my mission alone to carry out, and I was not informed as to what its purpose was."
"Truly you expect me to believe such lies?" His teeth were brought to light as he snarled, "You bring shame upon yourself, Templar." His tone had darkened; at his transforming expression, Maria's felt her resolve faltering. "Under what pretence would you expect me to believe you were sent, by your master, to stand and loiter in Mamraj's presence? You were either there to survey him, or send him to ground; which was it?"
Maria grit her teeth against the blossoming pain, "I shan't be serving as your damned informant – now release me!"
"Are you truly that wet behind the ears?"
The frown growing on Maria's face was interrupted by a swift kiss, courtesy of Altaïr's fist.
(BREAK)
Altaïr scanned his surroundings, his face contorted by the pain now freely showing upon it. Cradling his injured arm, he cast one last glance at her slumped form before pacing up the alley. Littered in the street lay stray piles of discarded building materials from the construction nearby. He rooted through one promising looking pile, and managed to scavenge some sturdy twine.
Now, something to silence that tongue of hers…
After several minutes of searching, he knelt beside her unconscious form, roughly taking her arms behind her back, and securing them with the twine. As he worked, he observed several drops of blood spatter onto her pale skin, eventually seeping into the gold patterns that adorned her back.
Such a shame that it goes to waste.
He growled at himself, swiping the blood off of her shoulder blade with a fluid, detached motion. Heaving her up by her arms, he brought her to lean against the wall while he attempted to secure her gag; he winced at the popping noise, which emanated from her sockets as he lifted her. Pinning her to the wall with his hips, he secured the thin scrap of burlap around her mouth.
How exactly to get her to the bureau…
(BREAK)
As Altaïr made his way through the streets of Jerusalem's high noon crowd, several confused and condescending looks weighed his shoulders down.
That, and this nondescript burlap sack slung across them…
Elbowing his way into the busiest section of the street, he drew an anxious breath into his lungs. The outdoor market vendors harping loudly about their superior wares, as throngs of patrons crowded densely. He grimaced as he began to get jostled around, at times having to push back against others to retain his balance. He allowed himself a small smirk at the image of Maria being jostled into the sweaty armpits and backs of those pressing into them.
What a pity she isn't awake.
(BREAK)
Malik's head whipped up at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Moving from behind the desk and into the brightness of the bureau's covered entrance, he scoffed, "What? Forget how to land properly Alt–"
The sight of the body-sized bag laying hap-hazardly on the ground closed his mouth to any quips.
"And what is this that you have dragged into my bureau? For your sake Altaïr, it better not be –"
"It is the Templar woman, Maria Thorpe."
Malik nodded once, "And what pray tell was she doing in Mamraj's presence? Was she there to end his life as well? Or–"
Altaïr groaned and tightened his grip on his cradled arm, "Please, there will be time for interrogations later Malik. As of this moment, I require medical attention."
With an eyebrow raised, the Rafiq indicate to the rooms in the back of the bureau, "You among all people should know where the bandages are."
"Your kindness continues to astound me, brother."
Malik smirked as he watched Altaïr limp off, "And what am I to do with your… delivery?"
"Ensure it does not leave, for a start. She may also require aid– however, perhaps it'd be beneficial to leave her in pain for a while yet."
"If you think it best, I'll hold her in one of the rooms; if you are in luck, I might have something to restrain her with."
"Do what you must, only now, leave me to recuperate."
Malik shook his head as he nudged the sack with his foot, "This will prove interesting, if not hazardous."