XxXxXx
2012 Syria
Red illuminated numbers glared at Desmond as he groggily opened his eyes. He stared stupidly at them in a just-woke-up haze, the red digits not making any sense at all. But, as he woke up even more, his brain began to kick into gear. 2:17. He glanced around; he seemed to be back in the underground compound in Hama, in his own room. How he got there he didn't know, nor really cared to dwell on that. He glanced back at the clock. 2:18. His eyes widened at the realization and with a start he sat up. Had he really been asleep for seven hours?
Then he groaned. He shouldn't have sat up so fast. Every muscle in his body was aching in a loud protest to every move he made especially his arms and legs. He glanced down at his body, not surprised in the slightest to find various cuts, scrapes and bruises adorning him. While he didn't exactly remember where each one came from, he strongly suspected his graceful flight down the hillside contributed a goodly amount.
Despite the dredges of exhaustion still clinging to him Desmond threw back the blankets and rose. He found some clean clothes on the dresser and painfully pulled a shirt over his head, trying to ignore his muscle's plaintive protests.
"Morning sunshine!" Sura said cheerfully, despite deep circles beneath her light brown eyes, "Well…afternoon more like."
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that."
"Don't worry about, you deserved it the way you got those templars off our ass. Didn't know you were part monkey."
"Let's just say it runs in the blood."
"Right." Sura smiled then gave a huge yawn, "Sorry. I haven't gotten any sleep yet…been working on those documents."
"You could have woken me up, you know."
"Trust me, we tried." Lucy entered the room then, playfully ruffling Desmond's short dark hair, "You passed out and stayed out for a day and a half. I even had to check your pulse a couple of times to make sure you were still breathing!"
"Wait…did you say a day and a half?" Desmond stared at Lucy incredulously, "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope!" Sura grinned, "Oh, and if you want to avoid being teased to within an inch of your life, watch out for Gerson."
"Oh crap." Desmond sank down into a chair, his head buried in his hands in embarrassment as the events of a day and a half ago came back to him.
"Hey, you did pass out on him." Sura said, her grin widening "Just be glad he's got a good sense of humor…and that he considers you a friend. All in all, he finds it rather hilarious."
"Lucky me." Desmond said blandly, "Did you find anything out from those scrolls yet?"
"No, not yet." Sura sighed, sounding exhausted all of the sudden, "We have to go through the same process Gerson went through with the stuff you guys stole a couple of days ago, but it won't go nearly as fast as we have to translate all that stuff and sort it by hand. We did, however, manage to figure out that the assassins knew that they were going to be destroyed by Baybars and his Mamluks. The Mongols had weakened them considerably when they destroyed the power base in Iraq, Alamut, but the Syrian branch was largely untouched…physically at least. Politically they were destroyed. When Baybars came through about 20 years later, they were practically helpless. However, the Syrian assassins didn't want their records to be lost like when the Mongols destroyed the library so they hid what records they had left in that room. They didn't have time to sort it all and I don't think they really knew what they put in there…they just grabbed what they could and threw it all in and sealed it."
"Oh, and before you start wondering, Malik, Badoura and Altair were long dead by the time this happened. They lived during the assassin's 'golden age', so to speak. They would have been over one hundred years old of they had been alive when Baybars came. In fact, one document mentions how they wished they had at least one of those three around to save them."
"Anything else?" Desmond asked hungrily. Normally he wasn't one for history, the appeal of searching through dusty text books for names and dates of boring details that sometimes had little or nothing to do with the time he lived in now was about as tempting as eating raw fish and not in sushi form. However, seeing as how he had actually seen this and had more than a little personal attachment to this, well…he found himself curious to say the least.
"Look, if you want to know more, go bother your mother. She's the one in charge of that." Sura snapped, her good humor diminishing as lack of sleep took hold, "I haven't slept in two days…I'm going to bed."
Desmond raised his hands in surrender, causing both women to roll their eyes as they left. It wasn't until they left that he let his alight apprehension show. Yeah, he had made up with his parents, but things were still rather awkward. He had been going a little out of his way to avoid them, truth be told, and he wasn't too keen on breaking that now. But Sura's little history lesson had his full and complete attention now, and he desperately wanted to know more. He sighed as he stared at the floor, his emotions conflicting.
XxXxXx
1191 Acre, assassin bureau
She reminded him so much of Maria, Robert de Sable's "stand-in", dressed in mail armor and a sword hanging from her hip. But Maria was French, at least Altair guessed she was French, and this woman was Saracen! So were the four men who attacked Altair realized. Poor Altair was rather perplexed; what was going on here?
"I see your confusion." The woman continued, leaning against the wall casually as if they weren't in a blood soaked assassin bureau surrounded by dead bodies from both sides, "You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?"
"Enlighten me." Altair said stiffly.
"Why should I? We both know I'm not leaving this place alive. Either you are going to kill me or I'm going to attack you and force you to kill me." She said, "So tell me, assassin, why should I give you the answers you so desperately crave?"
Altair found himself speechless. She didn't have the slightest hint of worry or concern in her voice. She might as well have been talking about the weather.
"I could tell you…if more to see your reaction than anything." She went on, seemingly oblivious to the dumb-struck assassin, "But then another question arises; how much to let on?"
"Then let's start with an easy one." Altair broke in, finding his voice, "I save you, or at least I saved you from guards who were never actually hurting you in the first place, then you entice me with the promise of information, trying to get my guard down before you call your dogs on me and practically chase me all the way home. Then I come back and find that you have gone after my brothers instead. So now my question is; who are you?"
"Interesting…I've heard that you were a rather arrogant ass you doesn't like to mess with trivial details like that. Yes, very interesting." She said, tapping a finger against her lips, "I think I can answer that. My name isn't very important, actually, so you can call me by the name I gave you the first time we met, Fatima, if you remember."
"I remember…and you're still mispronouncing it." Altair grumbled, "But that's besides the point. You still haven't answered who you are."
"Being a stickler for details, are we?" 'Fatima' asked, "Well, let's just say that I was rather affected by your little scourge these past months. You see, my father was one of the guards who worked on the docks. After you managed to kill Sibrand, the guards that were 'suspected' of slacking in their duties were put to death, my father among them. It destroyed my family, assassin. Since then, I've been waiting for this." She finished, sweeping her hand across the room in indicate the carnage.
"You have accomplished nothing, dumb fool." Altair said calmly, "What the idiots who run this city do after I complete a job is their affair, not mine. Sibrand's fate was unavoidable, your father could have prevented his."
In truth, Altair's own words rang hollow to him. He didn't want to be reminded of those assassinations, how he had been used, let alone the aftermath of them.
"In your own words earlier, that's beside the point." 'Fatima' said, "You have questions…I have answers."
"I don't think I need them, actually…not from you anyway, not from a martyr." Altair said, "You're just like the preachers; catch the target's attention and scream out lies. Scream loud enough and they just might believe you. The only difference between you and them is that you want me to drop down and beg for it like a dog that hasn't been fed in a week. I don't care whose leading those men. All I know is that they want to kill my brothers and me and that makes for an easy solution; kill them before they kill me. Sorry, beautiful, but this dog isn't that hungry."
"And people wonder why there are so many strays." 'Fatima' sneered, "It's because the dogs are too stupid to figure out when to not bite. Stupid dog, things run much deeper than you think. Run back to your precious pack and I think you'll find a much different animal running things. Wolves and jackals tend to kill stupid dogs that get in their way."
"But what the wolves and jackals don't realize is that even a small pack of dogs will turn dangerous when threatened."
"Oh, stupid dog, you are doomed!" 'Fatima' laughed, "You really are narrow-minded as people have said. Learn from history…for you are about to repeat it."
Altair was at a loss. What did she mean? Of course he knew the past had something to do with this…none of this would have ever have happened if he hadn't killed those men, if Al Mualim hadn't betrayed them.
"However, our time together is running short and I am finished entertaining you." She said, drawing her sword, "One of us isn't going to leave here alive. Good-bye, assassin dog."
XxXxXx
2012
Desmond slowly made his way down the hall, his mind still going back and forth over whether he should keep going or turn around before he took another step. Somehow, one foot kept going in front of the other. He didn't want to do this, he desperately didn't want to do this, but his curiosity was insatiable.
He was so absorbed in his internal conflict that he didn't really notice the open door he passed, more correctly, whose room it was, until a voice stopped him.
"Ah, Spiderman awakens!"
Desmond glanced over at Gerson, who was leaning back at his desk, not even looking up from his laptop.
"Spider, huh? I'll add that to the list, along with monkey." Desmond said, rather dryly.
"What can I say?" Gerson laughed, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone crawl all over a vertical wall like that before…I can think of other animal names to add to that list, if you want."
"No, thank you, that list is long enough."
Gerson let it go as he motioned Desmond in, his eyes still glued to his computer screen, "Sit. You look like you're about to fall over."
Desmond almost fell onto Gerson's bed, grateful for both the chance to sit and for the excuse to not continue his previous mission. However, something struck him as odd.
"You certainly seem rather awake." Desmond noted, "Even Sura's dragging, which certainly puts a damper on her mood."
"She can make a bear run in terror when she gets cranky." Gerson laughed, "As for me, I used to be in the military in the states. I got used to staying up for days at a time. I can run just fine on a few hours of sleep. What about you? You certainly don't seem to have a problem being awake all night but crash as soon as the sun comes up, bad-ass acrobatic feats aside."
"I was a bartender. We tend to be rather active at night, at least where I worked we were." Desmond said, feeling as if that were part of another lifetime, "And give me a break…I've never done that before."
"That Bleed Effect thing? How bad is it?" Gerson said, finally glancing back at the younger man.
Desmond could see that he wasn't joking this time, but was rather serious. He shifted a bit, mulling over his answer. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about it, in truth, it was easier telling Gerson than answering Lucy's more scientific demands, but he just wasn't quite sure how to answer.
"Lemme ask you this first." Desmond finally said, "What happened after I took off?"
"Well, we followed the wall back until we found that hole you were talking about and slid out that way. It was ridiculously easy to be honest. I don't think we were even followed." Gerson said, turning around to face Desmond, "Anyway, once we got back to the car, I made sure the girls would be fine before heading back down the road to make sure your reckless butt hadn't got shot by Templars. Didn't have to go far, you were already tearing down that slope, rather effectively I might add, with about half a dozen of the fools on your tail. So I just simply waited behind a rock and yanked you down when you got close enough. I waited until the coast was clear before hauling your unconscious butt back to the car and got the heck outta dodge."
"Did you see me top the wall?" Desmond asked, rather hesitantly.
"No, but I did see you scramble down it. Why?"
"Was there anyone else up?"
"Not that I saw…where the heck are you going with this?"
"I got stuck. There was a nail that got me hung up right on the edge of that wall. I couldn't get out of it." Desmond explained, "Something yanked me up. Grabbed me by the arms and literally hauled me up."
To prove it, he pushed up his shirtsleeves, revealing deep bruises on both his upper arms, resembling a handprint.
"Further more, someone was talking to me, urging me on. Answering me, even. Maybe it was the adrenaline talking but these bruises aren't typical of the rest of the collection."
Gerson sat back, "Damn…I can't answer that. It's interesting to say the least, but I can't explain that nor can I give you any clue as how to answer it. But what does that have to do with this Bleed Effect? I'm pretty sure that it had something to do with your suddenly ability to climb walls, am I right?"
"Gerson, before that whole thing with the Animus, I would have sooner run smack into that stupid wall than climb it the way I did." Desmond said frankly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush, "Before then, if someone had told me that I would have kicked the crap out of two fully-trained assassins, armed, and in the dark, I would have laughed at them. I can see the true intentions of the people around me and, annoyingly, have weird urges to climb tall buildings to get a look around."
"This has been going on for a while now?"
"Couple of weeks, since that last memory, when I got fully synced with Altair."
"Funny, Lucy mentioned that the last subject went totally insane within the same space if time. You seem to be rather in control."
"Yeah, I know. No one seems to want to mention those other subjects though."
"You really don't want to hear it." Gerson made a face, "It's not that pleasant. That last guy just happened to be a rather extreme case, however. I don't think he and his ancestor got along very well. Maybe that's why you're doing ok; you and Altair are really a lot alike so there's not that much to actually change."
"Except the paranoid, psycho assassin side of him, maybe." Desmond said, "But he did have a rational side…that I know. Hey…do you think…do you think that voice that I heard was..." his voice trailed off but Gerson caught his meaning.
"As I said, I can't answer that. I don't believe in ghosts or anything like that, but anything is possible." Gerson shrugged, "If Altair is in you, then it's possible you're developing dual personalities, but on the other hand, he is buried around here somewhere. He might have been the one to pull you on that wall."
Desmond looked up sharply. He hadn't thought of that. Both of them looked at Desmond's right arm, where his rescuer's left hand would have been. To their growing astonishment they found that there was no mark where the left ring finger should have been.
XxXxXx
1191
The knife seemed to move in slow motion, spinning lazily through the air towards Malik's throat. He saw it; saw also the source, a man in the shadows above them. He shouldn't have been able to do anything about the knife, shouldn't have been able to retaliate until it was too late, until it was buried in his throat.
However, Malik had developed this thing for not conforming to the "should have's" and "have to be's". His sword snapped up faster that anyone would have thought possible and sent the knife skittering off harmlessly to the side. Before anyone could react, Malik deftly wedged his sword into the wooden floorboards and retaliated with a throwing knife of his own, this one meeting its intended target. The would-be assailant fell to the ground, clutching at his throat, blood spurting from between his fingers.
For a long moment, no one moved or made a sound other than the dying man. Then, as if his last breath were a signal, all hell broke loose. Soldiers wearing uniforms Malik had never seen before burst out of nowhere, seeming quite intent on killing them. Malik and his men were desperately out-numbered but there's nothing more dangerous than an outraged assassin whose home has been intruded. The screams of the soldiers were easily covered by the enraged cries of the five assassins who leaped headfirst to meet them.
Malik found himself instantly surrounded by no less then six soldiers. Although his impressive performance earlier had set everyone back on their heels, he could see that none of them were taking the one-armed man seriously, something he intended on rectifying…quickly.
Malik wasn't as imposing as Altair, not as tall, and he didn't have that terrifying presence, but he was just as broad, just as strong, but he could instill a certain amount of fear in people when he wanted to. And for a one-armed man, he could fight extraordinarily well.
So the soldiers found out. Their numbers dropped from half a dozen to two in short time, without Malik even breaking into a sweat. Suddenly their stance changed, telling Malik that it would no longer be nearly as easily. Deliberately wedging his sword in the floorboards like he did earlier, and, with his eyes never leaving theirs, he shrugged off his black bureau leader robe, allowing his white assassin uniform to show. Pulling his sword back out and settling into a battle stance, he waited.
Both soldiers attacked together, figuring that without two arms, his balance wouldn't allow him to fend off two at one. Malik saw this and shifted his weight slightly. When they got close enough, he leaped backwards, one foot finding the edge of the desk and used it as a springboard, flipping over their heads and landing behind them, his sword already in motion before they could fully register what had happened. One down, one to go.
The last man obviously had had more than enough of the assassin. So far, he hadn't done anything they had been expecting him to do. The man wanted nothing more now than to get away. Malik, on the other hand, had no intention of letting the fool get away. But, as angry and as caught up in battle lust as he was, his rational side urged him to keep the fool alive…for now. A quick glance around was all he needed to convince himself of it; most of the soldiers were dead, one of his men was dead and another injured but the remaining two still strong and having no trouble with the few enemies that were left. Malik slid his sword back in its sheath and, with lightning quickness, threw several knives at the soldier in front of his, pinning him to the wall by his arms and legs. While rather merciful for an assassin, Malik spared none this time; the man was pinned by more than just his clothing.
He turned his attention back to the others, but the fight was already over. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done for the injured assassin, despite their efforts. Malik was rather steely eyed as he and the remaining two pulled their fallen brothers away from the rest of the carnage, laying them respectfully to the side. The two assassins glanced at each other as Malik moved back towards the soldier he had pinned to the wall, his face unreadable. They had never seen him this angry…not even with Altair.
Malik pulled out his short blade, using it to slice the emblem off the soldier's tabard. He held it up, waving it in the soldier's face.
"No crusader that I know of, nor of any petty lord we have a dispute with…whose then?"
The soldier didn't say anything.
"You would do well to speak." Malik's voice was as hard as steel, "We might kill for a living, but we can come up with very interesting ways for you to die. Two of my brothers lie dead here, in my bureau. You would do very well to speak."
"You already know."
"More riddles. Seems this whole conspiracy runs on riddles and half-truths." Malik sighed, half to himself, "Well, since it seems I'm not going to get much more than that, who told you where the bureau was?"
"Everyone knows."
"Try again." Malik growled.
"As I said, everyone-" The soldier's words ended in a sudden yelp as Malik's short blade was buried in the wall rather close to his head. "We were told, we were told it was here!!" he amended quickly.
"By who?"
"I don't know…I'm telling the truth!" he added very quickly seeing Malik's hand twitch.
"You are a Saracen, same as myself, yet you wear the armor of a crusader, yet this symbol," Malik waved the scrap of cloth in the air again, "is brand new, despite what you try to tell me. There are more than one in it, crusader and Saracen both. Two leaders, maybe? Tell me, what would lead you to follow a crusader?"
"He hates Richard!" the soldiers blurted out, "He hates Richard and said that by waging a war against the assassins we would be waging a war against him. Everyone knows that an Richard and an assassin met face to face just a few months ago when Robert de Sable fell, yet Richard still lives! You and he are in alliance!"
"Interesting…that's a new concept." Malik said, honestly surprised, "Despite the poisoned dagger we put on his pillow at the start of this war? No he leaves us alone because we leave him alone, not because of any alliance. We are in alliance with no one."
"You're about to be."
"And the attack on the bureau?"
"Supposed to scare the others. We were supposed to attack all the bureaus at the same time. I know not if the others were successful."
Malik froze, his stomach feeling as if it had been turned to ice. The other bureaus had been attacked? He thrust that aside and focused on the man in front of him.
"Anything else?"
"Just a warning; history repeats itself, assassin, you would do well to learn that."
Malik lost it. All the rage he had been penning up came rushing out with that disrespectful statement and he slammed his blade into the soldier in front of him.
"Sir?" one of his men asked, a little nervous.
Malik took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.
"There are two, damn it, not just one, leading them. Two people leading this army against us; one Saracen and one Christian. He said we already know who marches against us, but we have so many enemies that it would take weeks just to write it all down."
"He said he hated Richard. Plenty of crusaders have a problem or two with the Christian king but only Conrad has made a big issue of it." One assassin said, a tall man called Dabih, "I think Altair was right, but don't ever tell him I said that."
Malik smiled a little at that, but not much. Things weren't looking too good right now.
"We have to leave." Malik announced suddenly, "War is in the air and it won't do anyone any good staying here."
Ahsan, the other assassin, frowned a little, "Back to Masyaf?"
Malik nodded grimly, looking at the torn scrap of cloth with the symbol of two leaders on it.
Aaaaaaa
Tears coursed unchecked down Badoura's cheeks as the three men approached her. She was helpless, utterly helpless, something she was not used to feeling. Not only that but she was terrified. Her world was crashing down around her and now this. She clutched at Katane's mane, squeezing her legs against him with all her might, trying to holding onto his still body for all she was worth. He didn't deserve this, she thought, twining her fingers into his coarse mane, my sweet horse…he didn't deserve this fate.
From her position on the ground behind the horse's head, she couldn't see one dark brown eye open and the delicate black nostrils flare suddenly. She was so focused on the three men that she didn't notice the small black tipped ears suddenly pin flat to the horse's head.
XxXxXx
2012
Desmond practically dragged Gerson with him as he went to go see his mother about the scrolls. Gerson had tried to argue that he just been there earlier (while, in reality, he didn't really want to be in the middle of the inevitable awkward atmosphere) but Desmond ignored him. Halfway there, Gerson gave up, convincing himself that if he learned something before Lucy or Sura he could use it to get back at them for all the times they drove him crazy. Fifty feet from the door, Gerson found himself pulling a very reluctant Desmond along.
"Look, you got this far, go the rest of the way." Gerson growled, "I did not get dragged out here for you to turn around and take off."
Abida looked up as the two young men entered, her surprise quickly replaced by a warm smile. She was thrilled to see her son again. She knew perfectly well that it would be a while before Desmond grew more comfortable being around her again. As much as she just wanted to mother him, she had to hold herself back. He was a big boy now…he had to start learning things on his own. For his part, Desmond seemed rather appreciative that she didn't make a big deal out him coming in.
"Looking to see if I have anything new?" she asked, then, when they nodded, "Well, you're in luck. I found something rather interesting."
She began to shuffle through the scrolls, looking for a specific one, "You weren't that specific about what you were looking for. Sura just told me to look for anything that pertains to information on where assassins were buried anywhere after the third crusade. She only said that Abstergo was now into grave robbery. Ah, here it is."
She pulled out one of the unrolled scrolls, tapping the identification number she had placed on the top with one finger as she searched for the translated version on the computer.
"Here it is." She said, "It only mentions one name though, and, while the surname is traditional, his given name is rather unusual. But he was an assassin, and a rather good one, or at least well known for I saw his name several times in some of the other documents. Anyway, the scroll vaguely describes the location where he was buried."
"Was his name Altair Ibn la-Ahad?" Desmond asked.
"Yes…yes it was. How did you know?" Abida asked, giving her son a surprised look.
"It's a long story." Desmond said wearily, "I'll tell you later, I promise."
His mother nodded, sensing that this was indeed a long story…and that it went far deeper than what Desmond was hinting at. She had the feeling that this assassin was somehow in the center of the chaos in Masyaf. She had no way of knowing that this wasn't the first time that that particular assassin had been in the center of trouble.
XxXxXx
A/N: There, nice long chapter for y'all. I got yet another test this week groan as well as a couple of projects and papers I need to either start or finish so I don't know when the next update will be. I will try my utmost best to get it in by the end of the week but I can't promise anything.
Yes, I know left Desmond out of the last chapter. That was deliberate. I was letting him sleep in while I got Altair further along. Altair's story is a bit longer so if there is more Altair in some chapters than Desmond don't think I forgot Des.
On a more random note, this makes for interesting reading/writing when listening to the Assassins Creed soundtrack (which is really good by the way).
-Vanillathunder215