Assassin's Creed: Flame
The assassin and the templar faced each other tensely. Until now, they hadn't faced one another. The templar had hidden behind dozens of, to him, disposable men, and the assassin had been more than happy to carve his way through most of them.
But destiny had brought them to this moment.
The assassin was garbed in clothing that wouldn't have been out of place on a ninja, if not for the beaked hood and bright red lining on the otherwise all black clothes. His name was Ichigo Kurosaki, and this confrontation had been a long time coming, in his opinion.
The templar wore a simple business suit, on account of the fact that the templars had no set uniform. His name was Sosuke Aizen, and he didn't really care much for the trained killer in front of him.
"I figured you'd eventually make it this far, Ichigo." Aizen admitted. Under his hood, Ichigo raised a brow in question.
"Really?" Aizen nodded. "You knew I'd cut my way through your underlings, ruin your operations, and then personally come to kill you, and you still let me live that day?" He asked. The chocolate haired templar chuckled.
"Yes." Said Aizen. "I knew that there was a very real chance that the death of your family would ignite a fire in your soul, set you on the path to becoming an assassin, eventually see you become an assassin, make you cut a bloody swathe through my underlings, and then set you at my throat. Even so, I let you live. I did so because, ultimately, nothing you do here will make any difference." He told the teen.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Asked Ichigo. "You die, there's no one to run things. I made sure of that. And even if, by some minute chance, I left someone alive who could plausibly take over for you, it won't be long before I just kill them too." The young man pointed out. Much to his ire, Aizen chuckled once more.
"It seems, my boy, that you labor under the delusion that I run this organization."
Ichigo's eyes widened at the implication of that statement. Aizen wasn't the leader?! That wasn't possible! The assassin's had checked! They'd made absolutely sure!
Despite the frenzied nature of his thoughts, the teen didn't let his expression shift one centimeter.
"And you seem to labor under the delusion that it matters. If you're the leader, then I kill you and the whole thing comes crumbling down. If you're not, then I've just thrown another monkey wrench into your great leader's plans." The teen made it seem so simple, but in reality, it was anything but. It had taken the Assassin Order quite a while to even discern who Aizen was, and even longer to puzzle out his position in the Templar Order.
"Well then, kill me, by all means." Aizen sounded so calm in the face of his impending demise that it was creepy.
Ichigo flicked his wrists, triggering mechanisms within the bracers that he hid under his sleeves and causing his hidden blades to spring out. He then ran up to the still casually smiling templar, blades poised to slash his throat and end his existence, but stopped. Aizen hadn't even twitch.
The teen didn't know why he was hesitating. The only good templar was a dead templar, in his opinion, with very few exceptions. But if what Aizen had said was true, killing him now would be arbitrary. He could go for the big fish now and return for the small-fry at a later date. With that in mind, he retracted his hidden blades, though he kept alert, ready to unsheathe them again if the chocolate haired templar made one wrong move.
"You've been granted a stay of execution, Aizen." The man's expression didn't change.
"Have I? Well, I shall have to cherish the extra time that I've been given." He said.
"See that you do." Said Ichigo. "Because it's not much." So saying, he turned and started walking toward the window. Then the previously threatened templar started talking again.
"You know, Ichigo, you're a much better man than I." Aizen said casually. Ichigo stopped moving.
"I already knew that, so why do you feel the need to point it out?" He asked. It wasn't often that a templar complimented an assassin who wasn't about to die.
"I don't know. I'm just struck by the fact that you, who have every reason to hate me, my order, and everything associated with it, is letting me live. Me, who basically killed your mother," Ichigo clenched his fists. He knew what Aizen was doing, but he wouldn't take the bait. "Your father," His fists clenched harder. "And very nearly, your sisters. And who also told my men that they could do whatever they pleased with the women." At that point, years of ingrained assassin training to keep an iron grip on his composure flew out the window.
Before the brown haired templar could even blink, the assassin turned around and charged toward him. Once he was at the appropriate distance, He round house kicked Aizen in the head.
On its own, a round house kick can be quite devastating, given enough force. In Ichigo's case, it was lethal. In the toe of his boot, there was a trigger mechanism for a hidden gun, and when he kicked Aizen in the head, it activated. The mechanism activated, the gun fired, Aizen's head gained a new orifice, and his floor along with some of his wall received a nice new coating of blood. As the templar fell to the floor, dying, he stared at the assassin disbelievingly.
"Y-you said you wouldn't k-kill me." He gasped out.
"I lied." Said Ichigo simply.
"I thought…assassins…Japan…honor…" It was clear that Aizen was very short for the world.
"an honorless death for an honorless bastard." Ichigo said. He then tapped the boot opposite the one that held the hidden gun to the ground, causing the foot mounted hidden blade to spring out. Then he kicked Aizen in the head, driving the blade directly into Aizen's brain.
His bloody work complete, the young assassin turned away from the fresh corpse and walked toward the window. He sighed. At the very least, that was one target down. The down side? There might be one left. Byakuya wouldn't be happy.
On the sill of the window, he surveyed the area, all of it lit by street lights, for a place to land. To his relief, he found a suitable place directly below, ten stories down.
As he always did before doing what he was about to, he took a deep breath. He then calculated how far he'd have to jump off of the sill and, those calculations in mind, jumped off of the sill and into the open air.