Inspired By: "Alan Silvestri- My First Bus Ride"
The Siren and the Bearded Lady
The silence that Altaïr imperiously enacted had broken like a shoddy patched roof under a heavy snowfall near the end of their trip as a cheerful voice prattled on,
"Another of Viv's fun facts: Did you know that men are six times more likely to be struck down by lighting? It was a very interesting thing I learned from an article so be careful when you travel in bad weather. Oh, we're born with 200 bones but by adulthood, will have 206. Isn't that just fascinating?"
"Quiet, she-badger" Altaïr silenced her incessant (and useless) ramblings because he'd had enough of her sporadic 'fun facts' since she began fifteen minutes ago to pass the time. Since then, he'd learned that ashes weighed about the size of a large newborn infant, people generally used the bathroom six times a day, and that honey entered the bloodstream within twenty minutes. . .facts that he could've lived entirely without knowing! It had been mildly irritating at first but like a drop of hot sweat that cascaded down the center of his spine with the agonizing speed of a snail, it snowballed into full blown annoyance.
Although he couldn't see her little glare of defiance, her voice carried through with her dry sarcasm, "Your breathtakingly articulate words of peace stun me into silence."
The hunt had brought them deeper into the desert as the sand dunes parted for canyons and cliffs high enough to kill any man, the desert melting away into rocky earth to grant them entrance. The breeze caused echoes to travel downwind, giving it a spooky atmosphere as sunset licked at the horizon to start enveloping the azure sky with its orange glow. Using his eagle vision, Altaïr had managed to find their enemy's trail over the flat ground as crimson streaks remained in their passing in comparison to what normal men could not see. It was a gift he treasured but knowing where it came from after Vivian informed him late one night, he was better off not knowing (it comforted him to know those beings unsettled her as well). He led the way through the rocky terrain but traversing the canyon could be tricky since animals made noise and they were vulnerable to be seen in the open as they traveled over the first level ground path. It worked for scoping out the landscape and although most of the time leaps of faith worked efficiently for him, there were no suitable bales of hay or a random Templar to break his fall. He was also certain that Vivian wouldn't gladly volunteer for the job either but she was hardly a decent cushion with her petite frame so he'd more than likely break his teeth.
"There! They've stopped" Altaïr spoke up with a wolfish grin that would normally be aimed at the sudden death of his enemies and Vivian had to arch an eyebrow to the passionate enthusiasm. Well, fans can't complain that he's not a determined man because a cartoonist would've drawn him foaming at the mouth by now. Malik remained impervious to his friend's manic expression because they'd been a dime for a dozen back before his redemption and had seen all of the possible facial twitches.
The dai glanced at the farthest area on the ground where the group of thieves was gathered, stationed to the west just as Amon had said. Their casual unguarded movements told him that camp had been found for the night as the path ended with a natural alcove embedded within the canyon to provide shelter. Malik hoped that it was only the thieves that were stationed there and that Templars weren't lurking within that dark cave for an ambush. He pointed to the rocky ledges that provided posts for scouts over said alcove as they melted into paths that ran extensively throughout the canyon, explaining carefully with shrewd perception in those chocolate eyes, "The canyon has given them a false sense of security, seeing as they can post scouts throughout the ascending levels and nobody can sneak up on them from behind. However, I assume that most will be gathered below to protect their loot and that is where we must strike to let down their guard while another disposes of the scouts."
"Hmm, just like an old clichéd dragon with its hoard" Vivian snorted with pity to their creativity but they were in the middle of a desert land so it wasn't too farfetched. She expected silence for her joke but found herself pleasantly surprised when both men agreed to the analogy, smiling widely with glee to her first true success since arriving, "Finally, a joke that's so old even you guys understand!"
"I can take care of the scouts" Altaïr stated simply to his mastered stealth skills and kept his eye on the camp, keeping his camel in one spot before it decided to head elsewhere out of boredom. He tried not to grimace when Vivian's chin propped against his left shoulder as she peeked over the canyon's edge to catch a glimpse of what he was observed. What could she possibly learn from the land that he couldn't? Keeping his comments about personal space to himself, he withheld from shooting a reprimanding glare at the woman and kept the annoyance out of his voice as he continued, "We need a way to separate them into clusters because heading deep into the camp to find their treasure will allow me to be detected. I don't see many geographical formations to cover me, nor do they have wagons, and my clothes will make me apparent against the rock."
"Maybe we could distract them and you could swoop in to grab it?" Vivian suggested helpfully as she pointed to the rocky ledge above the cave that kept one hidden from view. Being an assassin, he would have no issue with it as long as somebody distracted the group and put her little neurons to work on their hamster wheel. She might not have a strong arm or fluid agility but her mind was the best weapon she could wield so adding input into a strategy would keep him safe. . .and possibly boost the little speck of respect she had a bit higher. Oh, how she tried.
The master assassin shook his head to the idea but kept it in mind for further tweaking as he spoke quietly with his shrewd vigilance, "No, they will not be putting up tents. I believe some will remain here while the other part to meet the Templars so we must stop them now because an opportunity of escape will lose this for us."
He looked to their surroundings for aid but a sudden rock slide could cut off their own escape as well, possibly injuring either Malik or Vivian (mostly the latter). He could climb over anything in sight within seconds but his companions could not; again, Vivian would most likely break a limb because a baby mountain goat showed more promise. Vivian felt something press against her left leg where she'd hidden two small items and smiled brightly as she dug inside her boot to fish them out. Since her pockets had been filled with precious Templar booty, she'd placed a parting gift from Amon in the second safest place in her wardrobe and revealed two familiar orbs that had been his trademark. She held the handy smoke bombs in the air as the two assassins had questions in their eyes about them and she declared mischievously, "Cloud cover will render them blind and both you and Malik can eliminate them. When in doubt, gas the enemy- with smoke, not farts."
The two men deadpanned into a dead zone to the latter words because nobody in their right mind would dare to try it.
"I hope those weren't stolen?" Altaïr commented flatly with restrained dismay to his partner's kleptomania and she pulled the small bombs away from his grasp when he sought them. Did he think so little of her?. . . Well, maybe- it was a huge upgrade from no. Yes, she hauled away anything that wasn't bolted down to the floor but stealing from a thief, especially a potential ally, was a huge no-no for Vivian. She knew better than to do that in real life whereas a game from Bethesda's company would have her running away to wait twenty-four hours only to return into the happy arms of the same residents that magically suffered amnesia.
"No, and say please like the dashing gentleman you are" she sniffed airily to his assumption and held them from his reach, her mauve lips stretching into a cheshire grin as she teased with mirth, "Goodness, you make me sound like I punched a baby chicken to get them."
"This is hardly the time to joke and I will make you say that word when I dangle you over the ravine by your foot like said chicken" Altaïr threatened with his most serious glare- aka 'The Evil Eye of Impending Doom'- to push her into relinquishing them and she handed them over with reluctance. It wasn't that she submitted to his demand but rather, their specific situation called for that necessity. He was slowly realizing that the glares that caused enemies to piss their pants were no longer working on the cheerful historian and would have to start pulling bluffs to get his way. Thankfully, the woman was too nice to ever be fully mad at him during a serious mission but the smoke bombs were incredibly handy to simply leave them in her care. He'd buy her a candy to make sure she didn't believe the standoffish attitude which would undoubtedly lead to another future glare adaptation to coax her into obedience- he could already foresee an endless cycle rearing its head.
She wiped sweat from her brow as the word chicken brought the strong power of suggestion to her mind and asked innocently with a quirky grin, "Can we buy chicken for dinner later? I bought a very nice marinade yesterday that's still fresh and I'm not about to let you cook again because salt is all you know. It's been four days and I can still taste that beef cut you poured an entire bag of salt on, that stuff isn't cheap."
Altaïr was ready to bonk her on the head for continuing the jab on his cooking skills but found his stomach gurgling in response, leading him to state curtly, "Fine, you get the little wings and I get the whole breast. Malik, you get the leftovers."
Malik tried his hardest not to roll his eyes and aimed a deadpan expression to his friend for the callous imaginary dinner to sarcastically say, "Thank you, the grand master's approval truly shines on me this day."
"Oh, a breast man, eh?" she chided cheekily with a cheesy grin that curled his hands into fists for falling so easily into that verbal trap. The audacity of her to utter an innocent word in such an adulterous way! She merely laughed into her hands like the old schoolgirl she'd been years ago and shook her hand to show she was finished with the joke for now since they had more important matters. Altaïr seriously began to formulate the idea of putting live chickens in her tent to greet her in the morning. Knowing her, she'd either be naming them or putting them in his.
"We can lure the group away and use that against them and the crevices of the ravine can hide you" Malik stated casually as he'd grown used to their spats, preferring this mode of playful chiding rather than the fierce attacks fit for feuding lions. He was glad they stopped talking about food because after all of their walking, burning under the sun, running through a pyramid, fighting in said pyramid, chasing bandits into the outpost, baking again as they returned to the pyramid and headed out. . . he was starving like a madman! If at all, he deserved the breast of the chicken after what he'd endured the entire day.
"And I need a distraction to make sure they're led to the trap" Altaïr explained carefully as he tapped his chin in thought, pondering over the best way to grab his stolen goods and find an inn before nightfall. He wasn't fond of open spaces that lacked decent hiding spots because one misstep would lead to your discovery and Altaïr wasn't going to risk his life out here. Ugh, maybe he would need to alter his robes soon to adjust to the changing environment because traveling south where the land was fertile with forests would have his white robes sticking out like a camel in a horse stable.
Vivian smiled mischievously over his left shoulder like a pesky little shoulder devil and proposed to implement a decoy, "Men never say no to a lady in distress, they have to play hero for an ego stroke . . . that or rob her blind. Being a woman, I can keep them occupied with my womanly charms-"
"Or they can kill you" he stated dryly since not all men would stop at the sight of a woman . . . unless they haven't seen one in ages. Vivian was a foreigner and most men weren't allured with the exotic when a war was taking place against those same people because it could mean life and death if spies were about. If times were peaceful, yes, Vivian could catch a man's eye. . .well, at least with her appearance upon arriving. Her skin and hair had already undergone changes with the hot temperature and climate so a red-cheeked woman with dry lips, oily hair, and light tan lines wouldn't draw the masses like a natural Middle-Eastern or African woman would. He pressed the pad of his thumb in the center of her forehead, her sweaty skin causing it to slip down to the bridge of her nose as he pushed her head back and stated matter-of-factly, "Since your allure is atrocious."
"I got this, boss man, and Malik will be my partner" she assured with confidence since her personas had yet to fail against anyone and he needed a safe way inside. Jabbering nonsense and playing a part was nothing compared to extreme parkour and calculated killing strikes but they assured a straight path to his intended target. She might not be the most feminine but a big flashy smile went a long way when you couldn't display your legs or arms for fear of death, waving a hand in the air dismissively as she insisted, "Dressed up as pretty women, we'll keep their attention on us as we lead them astray to their doom."
This nabbed Malik's attention immediately because as far as he knew, he was 100% male. His head snapped to attention at lightning speed because acting was definitely a new arena for him, especially gender swapping, and wasn't keen on the idea at all. He was rather fond of his manliness and quite frankly, doubted he'd make a pretty woman because he was the average Joe of Syria with his build and appearance. He snapped his fingers quickly to jump into the conversation before the two flew into an argument on the danger and questioned in objection, "Wait! How am I going to pass as a woman? I lack a few . . . ahem . . . assets."
"It's nothing a few pieces of clothes won't fix . . . but you do need to shave as a safety measure" Vivian explained carefully with an apologetic smile since facial hair was a must and a sign of manhood in their era, leading him to withhold a painful woe. Malik's shoulders sunk instantly to playing another character- two in one day! - and sighed regrettably under his breath because none of his training prepared him for this. He'd need a serious drink to drown the madness that would come next and hoped Giza carried a strong one because he'd be lamenting his face by the end of the day.
This was the first time Vivian witnessed Altaïr's freakishly frightening grin of excitement and scooted back to be blocked the sight of it. It was insane enough to fit a psychiatric ward patient displaying delusions of grandeur but sane enough to be charmingly delicious.
Where was the bowl of freezing cold arctic water when she sorely needed it?
"I've never felt more naked than I do now" Malik groaned miserably with woe as he touched his baby smooth chin and lamented his lost mustache and short beard as well. He felt like teenager waiting for his first mature hair all over again! He'd never had imagined that saving the word would demand that he shave but strange things happened whenever Altaïr was involved. Altaïr patted his back in sympathy for the loss but a smirk touched his lips to the humorous scene of his grumpy friend. Today was definitely not his day but it humored the grand master to see his friend display an emotion other than serenity and mild irritancy. Malik, however, didn't find it appealing in the slightest because he'd been rather attached to his polished appearance and stated grimly, "It's times like this that I wish I had my other arm so I could strangle you for this plan."
"You're just cranky you had to shave" Altaïr dismissed airily with a short snort since 'If I had an arm' jokes had increased in popularity after Vivian implemented 'If I had a coin' for every jab Altaïr spouted. Their resident badger was currently fiddling with her robes behind their camel as she tried to find a safe but alluring style to fixate eyes away from their robed crusader. He wasn't about to dare a peek that would bring a scandalous sight that would forever be branded into his eyes and kept his sight on his friend, maintaining his gentlemanly manners.
Malik was ready with his retaliation because Altaïr failed to grow decent stubble or a mustache since their days as teenagers. Growing up together under Al Mualim's guidance at the same time had bonded the two as they reached the same stages of development and while Altaïr had reached his growth spurt first, Malik had won in facial hair. When they had been allowed the freedom to wander the village below the fortress, Malik had swaggered confidently with his new trait that exuded manliness to impress young women while Altaïr sulked on a nearby bench for merely having sparse hair on his upper lip. A decade later, Malik led the current argument that they'd had years ago when Altaïr whined that his 'hair growth' food diet wasn't working (a myth he fell prey to) and stated cheekily with a triumphant grin, "At least I can grow facial hair."
Altaïr quickly defended his physical appearance to point out he had hair in distinct areas since he'd found his trademark style but Malik beat him to it by stating matter-of-factly, "Cat whiskers don't count. That excuse ran out five years ago."
"Pardon me if I don't want food clinging to my face" he shot back defensively since he was proud and protective of those 'whiskers' as he kept maintenance on it but Malik scoffed to his claim. That's what cloths were for when you ate, to make sure your face remained impeccable. Altaïr's eyes narrowed slightly as he felt the old taste of adolescent rivalry when he and Malik would use a metal shield to peer at their reflections to compare the changes after a hard week's worth of training, teasing each other and then doing the same to Kadar when he teased them.
"Please don't start a fight about how hair makes a man" Vivian intervened hastily before the two began hurling reasons from their mental lists and neatly pulled back the sleeves of her gray tunic to reveal her forearms to the elbow. It was the most she could do without making the cloth lumpy and uneven but it would add extra to the overall appearance. She wasn't about to go overboard with her tweaking because she wanted to appear attractive, not whorish, and wanted Malik to fiddle with his own clothes for his character since they didn't have costumes to spare due to their detour.
Time was ticking away and Altaïr wasn't having any sass from anyone, calling out sharply like the drill sergeant he was, "Are you ready?"
"It took a bit of altering but I'm about to reveal a level of skin that's never been seen so the 1190s won't know what hit them" Vivian grinned deviously to her crafty plan as she walked out without her hood, revealing her neck and the subtle shadow of her bosom as she adjusted the neckline to show an innocent peek that most modern day shirts had. It wasn't anything revealing for a woman of the 21st century but the country and era she was currently in would stone her for a little revealed skin (hopefully, blocking the sun with her concealing robes wouldn't give her too much of a vitamin D deficiency in the future). The cool breeze striking her bare forearms felt wonderful and raising the legs of her trousers to fold them into comfortable pedal-pushers took a load off from the unbearable heat the clothing contained after hours of movement and accumulated sweat. The two men stood astonished in their spot for the revealing outfit- well, to them- and Altaïr restrained himself from yelling for extra coverage. Goodness, he could see her elbows! Women of their era didn't reveal anything past their clavicle area and Vivian broke the mandatory rule as bare upper arms and lower legs were visible like any girl of summertime in the 21st century.
She snapped her fingers to shift their eyes back up to her face rather than her exposed limbs and reminded firmly, "Hey, you're assassins, not men. Duty comes before hormones and all that glorious whatnot . . . otherwise, I never would've left Masyaf."
"At the current moment, I'm neither" Malik sighed woefully to his nude baby smooth face and groaned with immense regret when Vivian forced him to remove the leather belt around his waist. He'd never felt lesser of a man as he did now. She folded the red sash underneath the belt in half to give it a feminine flair and wrapped it higher to give the illusion of a womanly waist, causing him to groan miserably as his body shifted into a different gender. Altaïr merely watched with amber eyes fit for a clever fox as they glimmered with mischievous glee to his friend's torture, causing Malik's lips to thin into a straight line. If they did buy that chicken today, he would slap a handful of salt that would make Altaïr's eyes water and run for the river.
Vivian ignored the men's silent feud and briefly wondered how life would've been if Malik and Altaïr had been the opposite gender entirely. She was pretty sure Malik would be her best friend while Altaïr would throw hissy fits of epic proportions but the order had yet to use female assassins so their ranking would be low; their roles were muted for information gathering only due to society's norms. Living in the 1190's allowed Vivian to see why Maria ran off to the Templars where the only place that allowed her a sort of freedom to express herself, even if she had to impersonate a man in public for safety's sake. Her soul had been given life in the right place but at the wrong time and Vivian would've done the same to cast off the oppressive shackles, although her fancy was knowledge instead of the blade.
She used the red sash she'd looted from the dead Templar captain to wrap it around the lower half of Malik's face to give him ambiguous features, raising his hood over his head to cover up the fact that his hair was cut short like a man's. Women of this time grew it long to their waists and tied neatly on their head, a style that Vivian tried to mimic with her short strands that could barely make a decent bun. Quite frankly, with the enduring heat, she might just chop her hair shorter in the coming days. Malik's dark brows furrowed to the alterations, finding more freedom in his old robes and asked a question that had been plaguing his mind, "I don't have to alter my robes too, do I?"
"Nope, otherwise, the plan would fall apart when they realize your body has a whole different shape" she assured with a friendly sympathetic smile that relieved him immensely like a thirsty man finding a cold river and Vivian grabbed him by the arm to present her handiwork to Altaïr. For the first time in his life, he fought the laughter threatening to spill out of his throat as he gazed at the new Malik and managed a stiff nod as he bit his lips to keep them sealed. Malik couldn't slap his forehead in shame since she held the only arm he had and Vivian began to spin her background tale for him, "We'll say your suitor flew into a jealous rage and chopped your arm off when your village declared you the town beauty. You are a sweet mild mannered seamstress looking for true love..."
Malik groaned pathetically to having to disguise himself since Vivian had no qualms on switching genders in the slightest and she mulled over her own cover story with stars of passion in her eyes, "And I'm your sister, the harlot with unfortunate abandonment issues after our parents were horribly killed by bandits and is heading out to be a cook somewhere. Oh man, with this outfit and background, I'm practically a bad Mary Sue waiting to happen. What woman in her right mind would show skin and cleavage in this era, not to mention continent?"
Altair hid his laughter with a snort but having her on the team had definitely helped to balance their plans when a woman's touch was required (he preferred her brainy schemes) as he snickered, "What ill-gotten man would deny that?"
"Exactly, the most unbelievable characters that would make normal people barf and attract disgusting evildoers like a bear to honey" she grinned impishly with a soft clap of her hands and nodded to the man to begin their plan, surprised with herself that a part was eager to begin. She blamed it on the humorous acting part of the mission because fighting to the death and the small or sight of blood was not something she'd grown comfortable with. She tapped her forehead with her fingers in the classic salute to show her full attention and smiled confidently to pipe up, "Ready when you are, Cap."
He grasped her right wrist to prevent her scurrying off with Malik, forcing her to stand in front of him, and privately asked with a low tone, "Are you sure you can handle this? Your encounter with the bandits was only a few days ago and you might relapse emotionally- this could endanger you."
"I'm a tough cookie, I'm learning from you each day" she dismissed easily as she tried not to dwell on it, thumping her chest lightly with her fist to show her commitment. Sure, she might not have his strength and finesse but she'd give a 100% commitment of all she had in that brain of hers to make sure he landed at that finish point. He didn't know whether to admire her resolve or worry she'd become too loyal.
Loyal follower or not, he wasn't going let her rampage headfirst into a fray she wasn't ready for and insisted firmly with a stern expression, "You don't need to do this for my sake-"
"I need to be able to survive here, tests will always present themselves and this is just another" she reasoned simply with a small smile as he jabbed her vulnerabilities with his leadership but he had a job to do and she could help him finish it faster. He couldn't watch over her like a babysitter and there was no way she'd become a liability so it was time to start kicking bandit butt in her own way- by embarrassing herself and confounding enemies with her riddles. She clapped him on the bicep to assure him she'd make him proud with her outrageous ways and promised with a gentle smile, "You can count on me, sir. Not even an arrow to the knee will stop me."
And so, Altaïr began moving the pieces of his plan like pieces on a chessboard.
Vivian practiced her hip swaying to work out rusty kinks as they walked towards the checkpoint where the lookouts were stationed to clear them away by distraction while Altaïr moved in undetected by using the overhead canyon paths. Malik practiced his female laughter but mentally cried as he stabbed the dignity of being a man with a sharp rusty sword as his voice became high-pitched in a falsetto. Nope, he would not be sounding like a sweet low-tone woman that could lure the masses and would leave the rest to Vivian.
"Laugh randomly to attract them if they get suspicious but let me do the talking so you can keep that mysterious aura" she smiled encouragingly and let loose a loud laugh that echoed off the walls of the canyon to alert anyone nearby that they weren't alone. Altaïr followed them from above on the rocky paths that extended throughout the canyon, keeping himself well concealed from sight as they headed north towards the cave. Vivian didn't cease her chatter or the volume to make sure she was heard by both the enemy and Altaïr for detection as she declared with feigned sadness, "Dear me, I can't believe we're lost, Milika."
Milika?, Altair laughed mentally to the name as her voice echoed throughout the area and could see a group of four men on the ground heading their way already to scope out the intruders. Her voice had become quite loud and wondered how loud the little badger could shriek to draw attention- he might upgrade her to a harpy. Once they passed him, he wasted no time in dispatching any scouts posted on the canyon paths without a single detection to his stealthy footing. The Templars sought temporary allies that would help them get what they sought, uncaring to the fodder they handed over to the assassins since they only looked out for their order only. With their forces spread thin in Africa, he assumed they were recruiting just about anyone after the losses in the Third Crusades because these thieves hardly gave a fight.
Malik and Vivian made idle chat as they drew attention from the approaching men that had headed out to find what all the rucks was about. Yep, those were the very same men in gray and brown garb that stole her handy pack right from her hands! Vivian played the sickeningly sweet and oblivious civilian as she waved them over, plastering a wide smile on her face as she called out with dramatic relief, "Greetings, my sister and I are utterly lost in this endless desert. It's been two days since we've seen anyone."
Of course, the lecherous laughs and looks they received immediately had Vivian ready to barf and on the defense (she was a woman, after all) while Malik hid his mental tears at being seen that way by his own gender. Ugh, he felt so unclean and craved a warm comforting bath immediately. Vivian leaned closer to his side and rubbed his back gently to encourage him to keep the farce together since they'd played their acts well many times. This one was a little different and she tried to restrain a grimace when one with stained teeth asked slyly, "What are you beautiful ladies doing all the way out here?"
Vivian bit back the tart reply that she'd already stated it but held back by laughing loudly with feigned glee, "Oh, they think we're beautiful, isn't that nice? We're heading to Giza to find our brother, Ahmad. My sister lost her arm to a jealous suitor a few months back due to her unbelievable beauty-"
"She does have beautiful skin" one of the thieves in the back commented since humorously enough, Malik's smooth skin gave his natural hue a handsome glow that drew most women to him instead of Altaïr. It was a subject they chided the master assassin on when he demanded answers from women and they scuttled off for refuge while Malik drew them in appearance and demeanor. How could Vivian not try to play matchmaker with him?
Malik coughed awkwardly because this was not the kind of attention he wanted, shamefully waving a hand to show his fake thanks before giggling. Vivian rubbed his back with sympathy since she knew he was suffering internally as an ulcer began to form in the poor man's gut and caught a hint of white descending from the canyon wall. His robes contrasted against the sandy and brown colored sedimentary wall, leading Vivian to step forward to seize their attention solely on her to make sure nobody spotted the crazy Spiderman climbing down. Heh, she could already imagine a tiny white cartoon spider declaring 'I'll smite you' in his voice. She arched her right shoulder to raise it for a little dash of feminine allure, holding back a wince when her shoulder blade disagreed with the move and smiled charmingly, "Is there any way you could help us?"
"Why don't you follow us to camp and we'll help, little ladies" the head honcho of the group suggested and flicked his thumb back to where the rest were, drawing an eager smile from Vivian. Yes, she would very much like that because they'd robbed her of her hard earned loot and Malik of his sophisticated manliness- not to mention Altaïr's artifact. That alone had shifted him into a relentless Terminator mode that put all other Terminators to shame.
Vivian resisted the impulse of rolling her eyes to their crappy Neanderthal-like pickup lines, feeling ashamed for sharing the planet with such people, and noticed Altaïr was pressed up against the wall to her left. If the men turned, they would catch him in the blink of an eye due to the lack of boulders and wouldn't dare risk the plan. She caught his fingers motioning for her to move out of the way since he was ready to spring one of the bombs on the thieves while their backs were turned. Malik followed his order and feigning a sudden groan of pain that sounded horribly feminine in his voice, fell down on his butt to appear believable with half-closed eyes as he declared unsurely, "My, I feel faint from the endless walk."
"Let me help you, sister" Vivian piped up quickly before anybody else dared to move forward and as both ducked, Altaïr shrouded the field in gray as he used one of the bombs by throwing it with precise calculation. He wasted no time in taking advantage of their frazzled confusion when the men began shouting in alarm and he drove his hidden blade into the back of a thief's skull where the bone met the first cervical vertebrae to cause instant death as he severed the spine completely. His other hand whipped out his crossbow, not wasting a single second of his stamina, and he pierced the next man with an arrow in the heart since his reach wouldn't have allowed his blade to close the distance. Years of endless practice had molded him into a relentless foe at close range when striking enemies and bandits were easy targets most of the time. Making out the flapping arm of another through the shroud, he stabbed the man in the center of the chest to bring a swift death and used the front of his crossbow to pull him down onto the ground. Malik and Vivian stayed rooted to their spots to prevent being caught in the crossfire and she grinned mischievously through closed eyes to prevent burning vision, "Malik, you have an actor ready to burst from you."
"I'd rather keep it locked away and let you handle this" he replied with his normal voice, clearing his throat softly to remove the uncomfortable scratchiness left behind when switching tones. He was born to be an assassin, not the impish deceiver Vivian could be by being a very convincing decoy, and would call this his retirement from the acting business. It was so much easier to play an ordinary husband or relative from town to town rather than flamboyant characters that Vivian seemed to thrive on.
Altaïr kept his hearing open, depending heavily upon it (his eagle vision couldn't pierce it) until the smoke cloud cleared and spotted his two companions on the floor. Vivian opened her eyes to find a field of death around her as all the thieves failed to breathe or move and once again, facing the stealthy hand of death itself as the assassin before her had played executioner without mercy. To a gaming fan, he was the pinnacle of what human strength could leave in its wake as his robes billowed in the wind with an aura of mystery but to her, he was a dedicated man who had just cut down human beings once more for the greater good. It wasn't hard to see the distinct lines of black and white of what happened to allies of both groups and the gray, well, Vivian didn't know what to say about that part yet. She felt she was smack in the middle of it, slowly immersing herself in that ocean with cautious feet due to her lack of fighting skills. One thing, however, was clear: her hand was aligned with Altaïr despite not being one of his people or a person of his era.
Altaïr broke into her pensive thoughts as he snapped his fingers to get her moving, keeping a keen eye on her reactions to make sure she wasn't falling into old memories. Her eyes had glazed lightly at the bleeding corpses around them and if there was one thing that woke her up instantly, it was a smartass jab, "Don't tell me the powder deafened and blinded you, petite historian."
She hissed with the ferocity of a wet cat to the comment and stood up to clean herself, causing Altaïr to smirk as it worked like a charm. Good, that was the little spitfire that he was used to and would make sure to keep that flame alight until their job was finished.
"What next?" Malik asked warily as he eyed the canyon walls with mistrust, expecting them to spit out enemies since they were in the open and had no getaway camels nearby. They were vulnerable targets in case anyone heard them and being an assassin, Malik was accustomed to areas with hiding spaces or climbable walls that wouldn't lead to an arrow in the back (given his lack of a second arm).
"Lost little ladies do indeed distract while I decimate their numbers from behind" Altaïr stated simply to keep their charade going since nobody would be heading their way without meeting them first and looked in the direction of the camp. The thieves were fourteen in total and Altaïr had just dispatched four on the ground and two scouts from above, leaving eight men back at camp. They were the last group standing in their way but he had to be careful in not alerting the thieves to their presence or things could quickly escalate into trouble. Three people against a small group were already at a disadvantage, even with him as their stealthy powerhouse, and he looked to the canyon walls for the next phase, "I need to verify the number waiting for us back there, wait for my signal to continue."
Vivian motioned with a wave of her hand for him to spit out the form of the signal before someone happened upon them to blow their plan right out of the water and he answered casually, "Bird call."
"Don't know if birds are popular here, you should've gone coyote" she mumbled wryly to his chosen signal since a pigeon would be quite a sound in the middle of nowhere and received a death glare for being questioned. Okay, don't mess with the blade wielding man in the middle of an awesomely glorious mission. She raised her hands innocently to lower the intensity of the nuclear bomb in front of her and muttered flatly under her breath, "Jeez, don't melt me with your glare power."
Apparently, the man was not one to use the suggestion box.
The next stage came into play as they kept up the 'lost ladies in the desert' ruse despite Malik's horribly cracking voice and the 'women' drew the attention of the remaining thieves at camp by simply barging in with their innocently sweet personas. Of course, acting lost and in need of help- the classically clichéd damsel in distress mode- drew undivided attention from the thieves as Vivian played herself the sap by believing they were spice salesmen due to their (stolen) goods and kept an eye on each of the bags. Of course, she stirred the conversation away from their sudden appearance by prattling that she was starving for cheese after the long walk through the desert and proceeded to eat quite a few wedges without asking to nab all of their attention. Malik had quickly reminded her they weren't there for cheese when she finished all of their stash, ending her diversion, and that prompted her to draw attention with her skits- starting with outlandish stories of adventure.
The hilarious irony, to Altaïr anyway (as he crept overhead), was that the men paid more attention to Malik in his fake 'meek woman' getup than Vivian. His assumption had hit the nail straight in the board but that wasn't to say Vivian was hideous to everybody else- just second best to Malik (he would taunt her with this later on). Apparently, his tall height and build made him perfect for farm work and domesticating animals- not to mention, tending to a husband. Given Malik's ethnicity, his familiar physical appearance was more attractive than Vivian's foreign pale shade as a woman. Before Malik popped a brain vessel and stabbed all of the men for daring to place him into general labor, Vivian drew their gazes away from the fuming dai by dancing and singing one of her random songs to allow Altaïr time to slice everyone to pieces. That, and Malik looked ready to kill a few men if she didn't step in but it wasn't the dai's fault he was attractive in either gender.
"Now, keep your eyes on me and clap loudly to entertain yourselves!" she enticed cheerfully with a dazzling smile to make sure nobody would look behind to the ledge above them where Altaïr had just eliminated their last two scouts. Well, two down, six more to go. Malik drew their eyes in one fantastically single move by wagging his brows and clapping towards Vivian with encouragement, leading the men like a master puppeteer. It was times like this that she was glad the subtlest of movements were considered flirting in that part of the world. Hopefully, the dead bodies wouldn't twitch and fall over the ledge to drop behind them during the entertainment.
She needed all of them to keep their focus on her while Altaïr picked them off one by one, his mind ready to craftily use the bags of loot to replace the bodies because man's attention span in this era wasn't very long. After all, they'd chosen to be thieves . . . he'd keep that last comment to himself because Amon would undoubtedly throw him out of Giza for daring to stereotype him. Quietly and carefully, the assassin snuck down the canyon wall behind the men as they were entranced by the woman's strange (really strange) dancing to creep up towards his first kill.
"On a tropical island,
Underneath a molten lava moon.
Hangin' with the hula dancers,
Askin' questions cause' they got all the answers
Puttin' on lotion! Sittin' by the ocean!
Rubbin' it on my body! Rubbin' it on my body!"
Altaïr almost slapped his forehead to her horrid dancing skills as she swayed her hips like a person using a hoola-hoop and smiled goofily with her hands in the air to imitate a graceful Hawaiian dancer. Unfortunately, she resembled a reject that held none of those fluid movements and Altaïr found no alluring traits in it- not that he intended to. By the heavens, the woman held no grace in her form and resisted from sighing heavily with wonder to where her era went wrong in producing that little badger. It was. . .it left him completely speechless and flabbergasted!
Nonetheless, it allowed him to kill the first man efficiently with a strike to the heart from behind with his hidden blade and lowered the tally by one count. He performed a class but fancy Indiana Jones move as he replaced the body with a sack of loot while his friends concentrated on. . .really, the thieves found her hip gyrating interesting? Had he really lost touch with the common man?
Get me out of this ca-a-a-ve,
'cause it's nothing but a gladiator gra-a-a-ve.
And if I stick to the pla-a-a-n,
I think I'll turn into a lava woma-a-a-n.
I think I'll turn into a lava woman!"
Malik simply encouraged the loud clapping and obnoxious hooting while keeping an eye on the slithering assassin that struck with the dexterity of a viper behind each man that sat in their random spots. Underneath the red sash covering his face, Malik smirked pleasantly to each that went down because being leered at was the worst feeling in the universe and promised himself to NEVER commit such with the fairer gender. He would make certain nobody turned around to find his friend and playfully waved a hand to the group since they were fascinated with 'Milika'.
"One, Two, Three O'clock, Four O'clock rock,
Five, Six, Seven O'clock, Eight O'clock rock
Nine, Ten, Eleven O'clock, Twelve O'clock rock
We're gonna rock around the sundial tonight."
Two more bit the dust and it strengthened Vivian's singing resolve since they were almost finished with this ridiculous chase, leading her to hop in place perkily. With Altaïr playing the silent phantom of death, she'd be his deceiving imp that lured enemies to their demise for a safer world where she'd eat endless mountains of cheese and sleep easier while he. . . hmm, she'd no idea what the assassin liked. He was always so quiet in demeanor when they weren't sharing jabs that she never bothered to ask his interests or hobbies when he wasn't on a job. Did Altaïr have such freedom with his hectic life or had he abandoned the simple things in life in order to bring peace to mankind? It was a sorrowful thought for a man that sacrificed a normal life and she almost slipped up on her lyrics as she watched him move gracefully in the background but continued her task.
"Put your iconic tunics on and join me for fun,
We'll be under the sun when the sundial strikes one.
We're gonna rock around the sundial tonight
We're gonna rock, rock, rock, 'till broad daylight
We're gonna rock around the sundial tonight.
When the sundial strikes two, three and four,
If the orchestra slows down, we'll yell for more."
Malik found himself surprised that the men didn't realize that 80% of the thieves were now impostor loot sacks with garments slapped on for appearance's sake. The last two were almost a pity kill for Altaïr because they failed to realize a dangerous man was creeping about but maybe the men had gone long enough without female interaction to care. He was grateful his self-control was unyielding like a mountain's because he'd have made a pretty bad assassin if he chased every skirt that crossed his line of sight. One thing was for sure as he stabbed the first man in the jugular: Vivian would never sing and dance in their camp for the sake of his sanity.
"When the sundial ticks to five, six, and seven,
We'll be right in seventh heaven.
When it's eight, nine, ten, eleven too,
I'll have fled and you'll be dead."
As she finished that altered line, Altaïr pounced on the leader from behind and the hidden blade pierced the lower chambers of his heart as it broke through the vertebrae of his spine. It was a quick death but required a lot of force to ensure it was instant. Vivian stopped her giddy dancing since she couldn't have timed that any better and smiled proudly to the accomplished task, glad that they were all in one piece and in the middle of a looting zone. Her skin broke into goosebumps as the adrenaline remained in her system and thanked those handy hormones for keeping her resolve steady since she'd gone straight into the lion's den without her handy walking stick.
She eyed the dead with a sympathetic eye because her era didn't cause humanity to resort to this- well, maybe not the majority- but it was still a somber scene to witness. Poverty and war changed a person for better or worse and unfortunately, the thieves landed in the bad side of the road. These weren't sights that she could easily assimilate into her new life but she'd better hop onto the wagon because Altaïr would be plowing through enemies for the rest of his life on that same bandwagon so she'd better hang on for the ride. Altaïr didn't flinch at all to the common sight since he'd acclimated over the years and merely commented with a casual tone as he glanced at a nearby corpse, "This battle went better than anticipated- more infiltration, less offense."
"You know what the sad thing about this is?" Vivian murmured softly as she passed the nearest sack that held cloth bindings in the form of a hat and couldn't help but smile at Altaïr's personal touch. Hmm, maybe she was rubbing off on him because the sacks would've looked hilarious with charcoal drawn smiley faces on them. She could never imagine the stoic and formidable Altaïr as a humorous man, his sense of humor more akin to dry wit or logical dismay but even that gave him that human edge Vivian tried to find in him.
Altaïr wiped his hidden blade clean on the dead man's tunic without a care that he was dead because they'd stolen what was rightfully his in the first place and could've avoided this entire scenario. Why did people not surrender when they clearly saw no way out? That and taking what honest hard working people earned? He looked to Vivian for a brief second as he headed over to the stolen bags to rip them open to search for their items, his fingers digging into each and supplied his own guess, "That this whole thing could've been avoided by never allying themselves with the Templars?"
"No, that I didn't get to show them my magic tricks in the next act" she pouted humorously with a feigned sigh as she threw an origami bird made from papyrus from her hand and Altaïr quirked an eyebrow as it flew away with the wind current flowing through the canyon. Honestly, the woman was downright insane sometimes (Vivian failed to tell him that it was the only one she could make) and watched the strange creation flutter away to disappear who knows where. For all of her insane plots, she proved her word true in the end with her successes and he'd train her to begin building her defense skills once they were on the road again. She grabbed one of the bags he'd finished sorting through as it yielded nothing of theirs and hoisted it over her left shoulder with a giddy grin to pipe up with relief, "Oh, and that they didn't know just how close to real power but better that we deal with the ignorant than the smart."
"Some would say that the ignorant can be more deadly than a cunning mind" Malik quipped cleverly since a weapon was the same in inexperienced hands and ripped the red cloth away from his face to breathe easier. He could understand why Vivian refused to wear the thing during the hot daytime when it would aid suffocation under the sun and used it to wipe away any perspiration from his forehead, stuffing it in his pocket afterwards. Templar clothing or not, it would be worth a trade at least. His getup was quickly rearranged back to his old male-fitted robes, making sure it would be perfect before they wandered back to civilization because he was not looking for any suitors.
"So what do we do with the mummy loot?" she questioned brightly and wondered if Egyptian curses rang true here as well because she wasn't going to risk catching one. Her luck in life had already landed her in chaotic times with a cranky assassin from an alternate dimension, the logical reason still eluding her, and wasn't going to risk anything worse on her already full plate. They could return it all to the pyramid but what if looters decided to head in when they realized there were no guards? She smiled with delight when Altaïr handed her the small leather knapsack that had been stolen from her hands and flung it over her back with sheer happiness for the reunion, adding in, "Not that I wouldn't mind a little extra but magical curses is where I draw the line in stealing. Oh, what I would give to be in the wild west of my country! I could loot and nobody would know due to the awful lack of technology."
"You and Malik will return this to the official of administration here, we do not need Egypt's vizier to know of what transpired" Altair explained calmly because assassins didn't meddle in politics or involved themselves in affairs with treasure or money. He'd leave the job to the better suited members of the team since his appearance and grim demeanor wouldn't have people cheering 'huzzah' for it. Also, he did blow up that town center in the village and didn't want to bring attention to himself if they were looking. The matter could settled later after they finished their mission so they could finally leave the land to head south and informed his team, "But first, we must return to the pyramid to delve deeper. There was something in the Queen's chamber and I intend to find out."
Altaïr ransacked every bag until he found that small cloth pouch that held the familiar round artifact, quickly untying the twine strings to open it for unveiling. All three breathed in glorious relief when the round silver object with its alien golden glow of unknown symbols met their gazes, their mission reaching completion. Altaïr pocketed the item inside one of the breast pockets of his robes, sliding it between the lining of the last layer of cloth to protect it and ordered with a calmer voice that had been gone hours prior, "Let's go."
Vivian kicked the nearest corpse on the leg to pent out the disgusting taste on her tongue from the leers and lecherous words, taunting with a thin lipped frown, "That's for thinking you could have your way with me and poor Malik, asshole. Not to mention, having my little pack stolen from me after my hard earned hours of looting."
"Don't remind me" Malik gagged with disgust as a shudder ran through him because he'd definitely dodged his share of grabby hands since entering the camp. One day, he would find himself a good woman to call his dearest wife and never have grabby hands lest he remember the horror of this day. If she bore him daughters, he would chase away the suitors with a sharp pristine sword to protect the innocence of his precious girls and only let them marry until they were thirty. . .or possibly until he died.
"I think he was spared the horror" the master assassin snorted sarcastically and dodged a punch to the face by both insulted parties since he hadn't endured their torture. Malik made a mental note for the future that if Altaïr ever had children around the same age range as his, he'd hurl himself off a cliff before becoming family at a wedding union for their betrothed children.
"You wouldn't know how to handle me, I know things men aren't supposed to see or figure out for centuries, pal" she mocked snippily in retaliation and walked away with her head held high despite the pink tinting her cheeks at actually saying that aloud. In reality, she knew absolutely nothing of the romantic life due to her hermitic studious lifestyle but Altaïr didn't need to know that. She and Malik needed a winning hand once in a while so why not?
"Part of me is both wary and intrigued about that" Malik commented uncertainly about the strange ways of the future and Altaïr shook his head with dismay because this was their time. They didn't need to concern themselves with the future because they were writing it themselves at the current moment, practically doing the work for their descendants (he'd roll over in his grave if they turned out lazy). Well, not really, but Altaïr wanted a little commendation as he watched the petite badger strut away with her fat bags of loot in tow.
"Don't give her more ammunition" Altaïr muttered grimly to his friend in warning since she was already a strange little imp to begin with and yelled an order to Vivian, "Go put some clothes on, woman, I can see your knees. You're embarrassing yourself!"
"It's a character costume, it gives me the full right to look embarrassingly ghastly" she shouted back to defend her outrageous outfit (well, in their era) but scuttled off quickly to lower the fabric back into the comfortable tunic and pants. Even if the outfit was completely normal in her century where she dressed like this on an average warm day with a blouse and shorts, the twelfth was slowly working its way into her lifestyle. She actually felt a little modest for baring her legs and called it a small success as Altaïr's lectures finally began to drill into her head- not that she'd admit it aloud. As she exited to change behind a boulder big enough to conceal her, she made her next move in their verbal chess game by retorting, "What's your excuse?"
Malik chuckled behind his hands because he needed a good laugh after being forced to shave off his facial hair and Altaïr frowned under his hood, approving of her jab nonetheless, "Well played, badger."
As they left the empty canyon behind with their loot in tow, the trio rode their steeds back to the pyramid to finish what they'd started- even if it took all night. Malik and Vivian had returned to their original garb because they wouldn't dare risk returning to the outpost looking atrociously unkempt in appearance and breaking every rule in society because they had to find an inn for the night. Malik's immaculately straight posture had slumped somewhat during the ride as he lamented his lost beard since it was all maintenance work until he was older and could grow a handsomely rugged beard to boast over Altaïr's cat whiskers. Vivian encouraged him to patiently regrow the hair because with his looks, he could pull it off but Altaïr. . .he'd look like a mean white-garbed Santa Claus.
She gazed at the orange African sunset over the sandy dunes, amazed by the beauty of its simplistic nature as the setting sun would outlast all of them on Earth. Against that mighty star, her time and Altaïr's was a tiny speck in comparison to its life cycle. The colors would be the envious dream of any artist and the lack of modern civilization's lights to subdue the glittering diamond stars that innocently peeked out from above brought a fond smile to her exhausted face, "Isn't it stunning?"
"If you expect me to reenact any heroic or romantic scene with you, I will throw you down this sand dune" he replied flatly because he wasn't about to be pulled into another of her performing stories to play the hero, eager to leave the desert behind. He'd seen sunsets many times during his travels but never paused long enough to see it from start to finish, sparing the orange-lilac horizon a quick glance for his lack of attention throughout the years. Hmm, not bad. Nature was indeed astounding when one was patient enough to relish its simple artistry and admitted casually with a small nod of agreement while guiding the camel, "Aside from that, it does have that quality."
Vivian blew a raspberry to his first statement because they weren't going to reenact Gone with the Wind or Titanic scenery and retorted sarcastically, "I don't want to run off with you into the sunset. If I had that choice, it would be with Garrus Vakarian. He's got the 'Batman/Alien Husband Potential' every girl gamer wants, he can get you romantic vigilante wine and shoot a guy between the eyes-"
"Enough!" Altaïr yelled across the desert because he'd had enough of these fictional characters she adored and he resisted from growling exasperatedly at the wind when she cowered behind him. The mighty unforgiving eagle had frightened the fight out of the badger, forcing her to huddle in her underground nest to avoid another lashing. Each of his actions warranted a negative response he wasn't aiming for and didn't want the poor woman to huddle in fear of him again after the progress they'd made. Well, she was still the same but he'd promised to be . . .ugh. . . more open-minded about her time traveling trauma and released a reluctant sigh from his lips to murmur quietly, "I'm just irritated to the day's events, it's not you."
"I was trying to make you feel better by yammering about something not related to our mission" she admitted quietly since she could sense the tension rolling off of him in waves and wanted him to be in tiptop shape when they arrived at the pyramid. None of them knew what to expect and she'd wanted to focus his mind elsewhere so he wouldn't have to worry about everything throughout the ride; the man needed a peaceful moment. Apparently, witty retorts lit the fuse faster on the bomb dwelling inside him and wished that she knew a thing or two about weapons so she could make interesting conversations. If there was one thing Altaïr didn't hesitate to discuss openly, it was weaponry; she was certain a smithy lived inside that man.
Altaïr held out his olive branch of friendship once more and although he'd probably regret this by the end, requested calmly, "Why don't you regale us with 'Vivian's fun facts'?"
This put a smile on her face faster than hot chocolate on a winter day and she smiled ecstatically to follow that order, "Number one, ants do not sleep. I was quite astounded by this myself since we all need a little shut-eye. Two, having a crooked nose in ancient Rome was considered a sign for leadership. . .neither of us would've been very popular, except maybe you Altaïr. You have quite the prettiest little bump on the bridge of an otherwise very straight nose- why are you glaring at a compliment? Oh, fine!"
She shook her head to his strange logic and tsundere moment because a polite 'thank you' had been infused in her personality but maybe he wasn't accustomed to hearing them often, especially outside of his profession. Had anyone ever told him it was great that he could read and write like a man born into high society? That he could clean his clothes better than she could? That he caught the biggest fish without trying and picked the juiciest quails when hunting? She was surprised his self-esteem didn't suffer through his development because training endlessly to be the best probably forced him to earn compliments by fighting for each, a factor that could've played into his arrogance and downfall. You couldn't blame the man that had been molded to be a perfect soldier from the very beginning but his redemption quest had allowed for him to learn the virtues that his perceived grandeur couldn't. He'd found the honorable man hidden under that narcissism, not to mention a monumental truth that shattered his rules on trusting others, and was slowly finding his way to being both wise man and warrior. She just couldn't help but chuckle impishly and leaned over his right shoulder, catching a glimpse of that handsome nose as the hood covered his face and teased, "And you have the cutest kitten whiskers-"
Malik laugh echoed in the desert as she used his previous joke and watched the tip of Altaïr's sun-kissed nose tint red, knowing that a reprimand was forthcoming but she rubbed his warm back in friendly apology as she continued her fun facts, "Three, High Priests in ancient Egypt were the only ones who would wear cotton clothing so no wonder they flowed breezily through the streets like a Calvin Klein model. Four. . ."
If women in his area of the world were allowed to publish books, he was certain Vivian would've drawn a few readers with her quirky 'fun facts' or fictional tales. Well, at least she was smiling after everything she'd witnessed today so he called that an accomplishment because her heart would have to grow stronger to bear the continuous fights that would follow.
The fingers of his right hand briefly trailed down the bridge of his nose to outline its shape, taking notice for the first time that maybe. . .his appearance wasn't as shabby as he believed it to be. And. . .he might just grow that short beard just to show Malik he wasn't a prepubescent boy.
A/N: My goodness, the heat has been unbearable in my city for the past weeks (still is) but I had to get this little number out because I want to get the group to leave Giza, which they will in the next chapter, since they've been there forever chapter-wise. I'll be using the Ankh POE for Altaïr and although Ubisoft produced a comic for that POE, I'm shifting it in my story since it's already been written. Also, I don't like the fact that the Ones Who Came Before are all named after Roman gods since they debunk all known religions in the franchise so I'd like to think there were others of their kind who were gods and goddesses for other people worldwide throughout history. To wrap that all up, Isis will not be a human who wielded the ankh but one of those beings that decided to mate with a human and used the ankh to resurrect him.
I've also been wondering whether to raise the rating of the story to mature because despite the adventure, AC is a mature franchise and Altaïr's Templar killing might surpass the Teen rating. What do you guys think?
Thanks for the alerts and reviews, I love reading the feedback for the story and any ideas are welcome for our adventuring trio since I want you guys happy on this ride.
ShizukaRen-Hime: Vivian's a little imp on Altaïr's shoulders as she pushes his buttons but also tries to help him with any issues Malik can't offer guidance on. I can already imagine his nagging when he starts teaching her the basics on defense to keep herself safe on the journey. I can already see her imitating Ezio's moves and falling flat on her face while Altaïr rethinks on simply handing her a fat book to chuck at Templars. Altaïr might hate the future but it's given him a few handy tips to get him out of a scuffle- not that he'd admit it to Vivian, who'd cheer and unload a humongous ramble on the different types of fight styles in the modern world.
Discofreak1029: Lol. I like using a lot of game, book, movie, TV, and other humorous references due to Vivian's personality style.
ihas no clue: The AC franchise has a serious atmosphere, even with Ezio's charismatic personality (oh man, how I'm going to miss it. T_T), so Vivian will be cutting the tension somehow with her remarks. I'm glad I can make you laugh because I've certainly made myself choke on a few of the chapters I've written- womanly functions and Altaïr don't mix well together.
Polinka123: I'm so glad when the readers pick up an inaccuracy I've missed along the way to correct that little blemish. It's so good Wikipedia has the facts on food ingredients but not when dishes came into existence.
KrnYong: Don't worry, Vivian will find her new Buttercup when they leave Kenya to travel on land and give Altaïr a heart attack when she drives. Yeah, she's definitely pushed the boundaries on touching since she'd be hurled out of town for touching a man but Altaïr has been a sweetheart by reasoning it's in her futuristic personality. He won't dare to touch her unless it's to protect her so we'll know when our dear assassin begins to form his affection for the brainy Vivian. You could always YouTube the scenes for Revelations, I pretty much wanted it to see how Altaïr's life ended (ugh, I refuse to kill off Maria and Malik like they did) and Ezio's as well. I found myself very surprised how Ezio's wife reminds me of Vivian (she even has the green eyes, lol), leading me to smile like a Cheshire cat and glad I didn't name her Sofia because that was supposed to be her original name in the story so I dodged an awkward bullet there. As for the Masyaf keys, they basically held important pieces of Altaïr's memory for Ezio to find and discover the Apple of Eden under Masyaf. Best hilarious moment of the game: Ezio imitates a bard to gain entrance into a party and sings.
xVentressx: I didn't get the rest of the review but thanks for it, nonetheless.
Lonerwolf1015: Malik is absolutely divine; I really liked his character and grumbled when they didn't bring him back in the rest of the games so I had to have him in this story. For the necklace, I've avoided it for now but will bring it back as well as her journal entries and Altaïr's codex. Their back-to-back adventuring in Giza hasn't left them much time to relax since they've been killing Templars at the inns and being abandoned by wagon rides so they'll be happy to sleep off everything once they leave Giza. I'm glad to have you along for this story as well, I hope to update my Avatar story afterwards but have like 25 pages to quickly edit through. Thank you so much for loving my writing style, I love humor the most but romance always springs in for the characters in my fanfics- characters need believably logical love. I hope the tips helped in creating your story and wish you the best as a fellow fanfiction author.
Next Time: The Mother of Egypt
"Ilias, look at my recent accomplishment" Bashir's jubilant voice popped in as he approached him from the right, passing by all of the students gathering around Rauf's training circle, and the assassin hoped it wouldn't be a bomb of sorts that would explode on them. Or worse, poison.
He turned to find the inventor wielding Rafiki on a thick leather glove on his left hand, the bird quietly preening his feathers. For the past weeks, Bashir had been adamant in gaining the falcon's respect since he valued having fingers and wanted to prove to his grand master that he'd done his job splendidly. He'd even tried to take the bird on an assassination but the blasted falcon decided to peck at him when it was time to enter the city, reminding the young assassin to blend in with the scholars. Rafiki swore in his avian mind that it was like watching Altaïr in his teen years all over again since Bashir had years to attain his master rank unlike the gifted grand master. After many tries and failures, Bashir managed to subdue the bird by speaking to him as an equal and offering food for its finicky palate. Quite frankly, he wasn't surprised with the bird's attitude because it matched Altaïr's.
"Did you finally allow him to cater to you?" Ilias asked with light humor on his Israeli features and Bashir began to answer but realized he was staring directly at the bird. Wait, what just happened? The young inventor merely blinked in bewilderment and the assassin chuckled deeply to his expression, explaining with an amused smirk, "Only Altaïr can tame the bird, the rest fall under his authority. You, my friend, just became his wagon."
Bashir groaned miserably to the fact and aimed a questioning gaze at the bird for clarification, who innocently glanced away to avoid the matter. Hmm, that bird was smarter than he gave him credit for. All three, however, stood at attention when the guards at the gate beckoned Ilias to come forward. That was odd. The only times he was required were for visitors, which were usually sent away due to their secret headquarters, or impending danger. With brisk steps, he descended the walkways past Rauf and his students with Bashir on his tail as Rafiki flapped his wings to order that he follow.
If danger approached their fortress or any of his assassins on assignments, he would deploy forces with the same battle strategies he and Altaïr had often discussed in case such an event arose while he was away. He came to the closed metal gate that separated their sanctuary from the outside world as two guards stood on either side with incredulous expressions and looked to find. . .
A woman.
Her features were of English descent, black ebony hair braided neatly around the crown of her head while her pale silver eyes held shrewd perception that belonged to no ordinary civilian. From what he could see behind the gate, her garb resembled a traveling adventurer's more than a woman that tended to a homestead. Ilias was sure that if he enraged her, she'd claws his eyes out because her current expression was not cheerful. The frowning corners of her thinned lips were a dead giveaway that she was irritated but she held her tongue as her gaze met his, her finely arched brows rising with curiosity to his approach.
"She demands to speak to Altaïr and refuses to leave until she does" the assassin to his left explained the situation and the woman nodded stiffly to verify the claim. Well, this was certainly new. Their grand master was not one to become entangled with women due to his constant travel and he'd only ever mentioned one that was strong enough to stray his eyes away from his job for a few minutes.
"I aided him during a mission to Cyprus and Acre, he stated that if I ever required sanctuary from the Templars that I would find refuge here" she stated matter-of-factly and pulled a necklace from underneath her robes that held the assassin's insignia on a silver pendant. Her actions were calculated like any soldier's as she kept an eye on her surroundings but the light shake of her fingertips told him she was also worried as she informed calmly, "He gave me this as proof to my claims."
"Altaïr is not here, he's on a year-long mission" Ilias explained simply to the assassin's whereabouts and watched her lips part slightly in displeasure to the news. He assumed that whatever she sought was urgent or important because her contact with his comrade had been sparse whenever she sent letters and even then, they were only about Templar movements. If she was the same woman that had helped his brother, he would provide aid if there was an attempt on her life and asked for verification, "What is your name?"
She hesitated for a moment because for all she knew, they'd skewer her on the spot for the name just like her old order wanted. Throughout her journey to Masyaf, any glimpses of white she'd caught were elusive over the rooftops and could only seek out the assassin's order itself for what she needed. She trusted in the last hope she had, licking her dry lips in a moment of hesitation before answering, "Maria Thorpe."
Bashir dropped the ball on this one as he commented curiously to Rafiki, "He worked with a Templar? How contradictory."
Ilias had already been told about this by Altaïr as the man covered every corner in regards to his leave and quickly told the men to stand down before they chased her straight out of the village. The two guards glanced at him with surprise to the decision since anyone holding ties to the Templars were forced out of the village under the penalty of death. Maria merely kept a straight face to the fact, standing straight like the soldier she'd once been and Ilias spoke softly with a hint of curiosity in his voice, "He told me of your defection and ensured you were one to be trusted. My question is why you've come now?"
"I was gathering information on Templar movements across the Mediterranean but unfortunately, my body could not handle the demands anymore" Maria answered with honest disappointment as her missions came to an abrupt end because she was no longer worried about her own life. The last months had forced her to rethink her new conundrum and quitting her saboteur missions against the Templars had been a letdown, her brow furrowing with regret as she vowed quietly, "This is the last place left to me for help and all I can promise is that I mean your faction no harm. I will relinquish all my weapons and give all information that I have at my disposal for entrance."
The order would not be too pleased but Altaïr had assured him the woman had cut all ties with the Templars and nodded stiffly, "All right, you may enter but one wrong mistake and you will be left to your own devices."
"Good, because climbing back down would've been murder" she sighed with relief at gaining entrance because traveling nonstop since leaving Turkey had been exhausting on her. Not to mention, walking from the village to the fortress perked at the top of a mountain had tested her endurance and patience. She'd almost fainted on the ground floor when a villager had pointed out she had to climb up the mountain's carved steps since they didn't live within the village itself.
When the metal gate lifted to grant her passage, Ilias froze on the spot and Bashir's eyes bulged out of his head when they caught a better glance at the ex-Templar. Maria noticed their stunned gazes as they realized just why she couldn't keep up with her warrior skills anymore and gently placed a hand over her plump stomach, stating with mirth, "Yes, I'm expecting and staring at it won't make it go away."
Ilias knew his days had just gotten longer with this new arrival (two, if he counted the unborn child) and motioned for her to follow, leaving everyone behind with quizzical gazes.
"Ow!" Bashir yelped painfully when Rafiki bit his shoulder in demand that he follow the two and the young assassin sighed, regretting his decision to partner up with a bird.
Each review helps Bashir keep Rafiki at bay from his pecks. Either way, thank you for reading the story and I wish you a great day and night!