Why did so much bad stuff happen to him? First being one of the more useless kids at the farm, no matter how hard he tried. Then all of the idiots who would come into whatever bar he was working at during pretty much only his shift. Abstergo was next, and really, they were the worst. Even being with the machine oiled three, Desmond still felt like he was a forth wheel. But they all had another thing in common. Every one of them thought they would be able to just walk right over him. Sadly, Desmond believed they could, too. That they already had. Hell, he was even taken to class by a damn golden apple that threw him back in time. How that one worked out, he could only hope to figure out. And soon.
It was all just much too much. He was only one person; not even worth all of the trouble fate or destiny(whatever the hell it was) was going through to mess with him. His IQ was average. His physical ability was average. Almost everything about him was average. His instincts were the only thing slightly above average, yet they still failed him again and again. 'Or more, I fail them,' He thought bitingly. After all, they did always tell him when something was wrong, no matter how faintly. He either did not take the time to notice or he ignored it. And now, when he did listen to them to get out of the village, he still fucked it up.
The bartender could not help but be a little bitter about it. After all, why else would he have left the village to avoid an assassin only to run into a group of waiting Templars? It just was not right. And to top it off, he still managed to run into the assassin. Possibly the worst one he could.
No, nope. Definitely the worst one.
Desmond had paused in shock the moment he spotted them. Already the Templars were moving to surround him, some with their swords drawn, like they had known he was just leaving the village. He at least attempted to go back the way he came after his initial shock. Not that it did him much good. From where he had came out of the crowd of people stood was the native, maybe not so native after all, that yelled at him next to the jewelry stand. Well, that explained one bit.
"God. Fucking. Damn. It!" Desmond exclaimed.
-H-O-O-D-I-E-N-I-N-J-A-
Altair trailed after the Englishman like the master assassin he was. He spotted the stranger being surrounded by Templars already just barely out of the town. For a moment their eyes met and the assassin had the feeling that the stranger knew who he was. Oh, he was going to get answers for this.
Around him, citizens were noticing the Templars and brewing fight. The smart ones were already making their way back to their residences. Altair slipped through the dwindling crowd towards the commanding Templar. By now the stranger was completely encircled by their enemy with, possibly, no weapons and no way out. His current target had his hand on his sword, so very sure of himself and his men. The arrogance was disgusting.
Time to get to work.
-H-O-O-D-I-E-N-I-N-J-A-
All hell broke loose within seconds of Desmond meeting the hazel eyes of Altair. Said master assassin had been creeping up behind the commander and silently ran him through with his hidden blade. While that was happening, one of the Templars behind Desmond made a grab for him. As soon as he felt the grip on his left upper arm the novice twisted to punch the Templar in the face. He was only slightly surprised when his attack hit. The man stumbled back while holding onto his face and with a glare in Desmond's direction. The sound of metal against metal pulled his attention back toward Altair. The assassin was cleanly going through Templar after Templar as they began to realize that their commander was laying dead on the ground. More swords were being drawn and Desmond felt he needed to slip away, now.
Another man lunged for Desmond only this time to maim and kill. Yay. It was a dead or alive sort of thing. Self preservation was again the forefront of his mind as he dropped to the ground to avoid being cleaved in half. Almost in the same motion he swept his right leg under the Templar that had attacked him. The man went down and the bartender scrambled to get through the mass of bodies. Screaming and yelled filled the air as the fight continued on between the mortal enemies around them. He was unsure of which side was winning. There was only one assassin and plenty of Templars. However, it was the best assassin that there ever was. Hmmm, sounds like a coin flip filled with skill and death. Why the hell was he thinking about that at a time like this?
Scoffing, Desmond focused on running away. He dodged and kicked his way around weapons, grabs and people dead on the ground. At multiple points he dodged poorly and ended up with a six inch slice across his left shoulder along with various slices, scrapes and bruises. Thankfully none were too deep so he was able to ignore them for the moment. If barely. After just a minute or so after the fray started he found an end to the Templars. Really, there was only about sixteen of them to begin with, now down to eight thanks to Altair, but they were everywhere. Somehow he was able to keep a hold onto his makeshift pack with his precious cargo. He slipped through the enemy lines in the direction he was originally trying to go from the beginning.
He barely took a moment to look behind him at the crowd. Altair was still fighting a few of the templars at once while two noticed that Desmond was almost away. One of them yelled something that the bartender was unable to completely hear do to the blood roaring in his ears, but he got the gist of it. From there he saw a few more heads turn his way and he bolted. He was breathing heavy from pain and exertion, but he kept on just like before. He was getting really tired of running.
Blissfully, he was coming upon a group of tethered horses. Desmond glanced behind him to see how far ahead he was. Three were right on his trail. 'Crap, crap,' Desmond thought. He was glad that having their swords out was making them run a little bit slower than they normally would have. Even so, it did not give him much time to try and grab a horse. Thinking back, he wished he had thought to nab a sword, dagger, whatever sharp pointy one of those bastards had. Then again, it would have slowed him down more then them. Hell, he probably would have tripped and skewered himself within thirty seconds of running with one. It was worse then running with scissors.
Fuck it. He would try instinct. He should listen to them, right?
The bartender made it to the horses, whom were already spooking from the slightly distant sounds of battle. The white horse with black patches like a cow that he ran up to snorted and side-stepped away from him. Due to the rope tying her to the pole she didn't get far. Thinking quick, Desmond let her see his hand before he moved to pet at her neck in a calming motion. Back at the farm, they had a few horses that he had really liked to tend to. They were amazing creatures and responded best to body language. Unconsciously, he smile at the mare despite being nearly breathless from running and the Templars following him. He relaxed his stance in an extra effort to get her to see that he was not a danger. Seconds rolled by as he stared into her eyes and continued the movement of his hand along her neck.
The petting worked to calm the animal down enough to get her to hold still. Desmond took a glance behind them to check his pursuers. He was surprised to see that two were down on the ground, one unmoving and the other painfully trying to get the knife out of his back. It had taken precious moments to get the horse, Bessy, in honor of her cow coloring, soothed. The men had been just behind him when he had last looked. Altair must have been the one to throw the knives in their backs. Why he was helping, Desmond shuttered to think. Still, two men down. Where the hell was the third?
At that thought, the hair on the back of his neck raised just before he was grabbed from behind. 'Shit,' was Desmond's immediate thought. The next second he felt a dagger pressed to his throat.
A/n: Apparently, Altair's eyes are Hazel. I'll fix it in the earlier chapter later. I don't feel like it now. Also, may be massive renovating the beginning chapters. I think I figured out a better way to play this out. And I apologize if it is too obvious that the style changed after the first bit. I literally wrote the first 4 paragraphs Christmas of 2012 and stopped. That being said, I hope you guys didn't need a glass of water with this chapter because to me, it was really dry. Also, I don't own horses. I did a little research but not a lot so...yeah. FYI, I'll try to make all updates over 1K words. That's my bare minimum. Otherwise, I'm aiming for at least 2k(about a page on my word program. I have the font size at 6, so that makes for a lot of words per page.). Have no idea how many chapters exactly it'll be because of my sporadicalness. At this rate, 30 chapters? Or more. Sorry for the long An.