I WILL keep this topic on Assassin's Creed! After this chapter, I'll switch back to Malik and Yusef for a while :D Of course Altair is involved, too.

Altair leaned his back against the metal wall and sank to the ground. He needed to rest for a while after running so far for so long. His lungs were burning and his body was in desperate need of a break.

The loud noise of a generator blocked almost every other sound and Altair set his axe on his lap. This place was as hot as Hell now.

While he sat, he contemplated on what to do. He could sit there and wait this out until the world went back to normal- if that's what normal would be -or he could continue forward in a random direction in the hope of finding some way to end this.

The latter didn't seem like the best idea so Altair decided to stay where he was. He pulled his hood down too cool himself off a bit and stared down the hallway. Nothing was coming.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out that key he got in the courtyard and looked over the image that was on the small, flattened end. It was so eerily familiar…someone burning, possibly an execution at a stake. It sickened him, especially the way how people call themselves 'civilized' when they'll burn their own neighbors alive for some crazy idea that they're convinced is fact, and not belief. Burning someone to death…what an awful way to die. Altair thought to himself how horrible it would be if he were burned to death. He'd rather drown, and his strange fear of water really said something about that. At least he'd pass out in water first. Fire was a whole other thing; he had heard survivors of fire back in Masyaf talk about how their skin had burned and flaked off and how their muscles were roasted. They spoke of the sheer agony that fire gave them, spoke of how it felt to be cooked alive. It was awful.

Altair put away the key and took in a deep breath. If fire was the worst way to die, what was the second? Freezing to death? Plummeting to your death? Starvation? Dehydration? A broken bone? Disease? He chuckled to himself when he realized just how ridiculous this was. Pondering on death. Death was death in the end, and if he didn't survive, then…well…that would just be too bad. The only option that he had was to try to survive as long as possible, after all. Hopefully this would all end and he could go back to Malik.

The thought of Malik gave him a bit of relief. He was happy that Malik got angry at him. He was happy that Malik hated him. He was glad that Malik would still tend to his wounds despite the hatred, despite all the yelling. Altair still couldn't remember what had happened to him after falling asleep, but he remembered Malik being there for him and remembered him being sad about something.

If he ever saw him again, the first he'd do is wrap his arms around the bureau leader and apologize for the death of his brother and the loss of his arm. Then he'd go on about how much he wants Malik to his comrade, and to be his friend, and to be someone that he could actually look forward to seeing. Altair originally thought that he could look forward to seeing and speaking with Al Mualim, but the old man has long since slipped from his list of people that he cares about.

Al Mualim had been like a father in some ways, but the love was weak and unstable. He thought that he loved him, but he was terribly wrong. The man only liked Altair for his skill, for his talent as an assassin. Sure, he got to speak to Al Mualim in private manners and got to have separate, personal conversations with him, but Altair was constantly reminded that this old man was not his father and did not care about who his apprentice was. He only cared about what Altair became.

Then there was Malik. He got to grow up with him and got to know him personally, but any love they shared for one another was shattered by the mistake Altair made. His arrogance cost him everything, which to say, wasn't much to begin with. But it was still something precious that he lost and would have to work very hard to get back. Even still, there was no guarantee that Malik would absolve him and give him the much-needed companionship.

For Altair, there was just simply nothing left but his own life that he might now loose, too. He probably didn't even have a freaking soul, for crying out loud, and if he did, then he knew that he most certainly was not going to go to where Adha went. There was no possible way that he was going to paradise. For him, it was all a lie. Everything that Al Mualim said about them doing Allah's work and serving the light by being in the dark was probably just all a lie. There's no way he'd go to Heaven. Hell was waiting for him, and he knew it.

He couldn't be salvaged by anything and his sins wouldn't be forgiven. Maybe it would have been better if he did kill himself after Adha's death. He remembered Malik being there to make sure that he didn't, but he had a knife. He could have just prevented all this from happening in the first place. Malik would still have his brother and his arm, and all of his heartache would have ended.

But alas, that would have never happened. He wondered if any of this would have been stopped.

Altair stared back up at the ceiling and felt sadness beginning to well up in his chest. He missed Malik and he missed Malik's brother. Kadar didn't deserve to die. He could have lived and could have had a family of his own and would have had the perfect brother who would have helped him.

Altair stood up and dragged his axe behind himself. Maybe he should just forget about all of the heartache for the time being and focus on surviving in this hell.

Sorry that took so long ^^; Don't know why I took a break from it o.O Must have just been my preference of computers, because I prefer the laptop that I use instead of the PC that I write this story on XD