One week later Altair, Kadar and Malik had departed for their way to Jerusalem. Altair had hide any little bit of emotion behind a mask of pride and arrogance. Only when Robert de Sable had thrown him through the wall underneath Solomon's Temple and he had heard the screams of Kadar and Malik, he finally saw his mistakes and he knew that he could never do enough atone for his sins, or rid himself of the guilt that laid heavy on his shoulders.
He had ridden back to Masyaf and had told Al Mualim about his failure. When Malik had suddenly appeared behind him his eyes full of hate as they starred at Altair, there was nothing left to feel. Neither pride nor regret or guilt. Everything that was left was emptiness that threatened to swallow him. He had followed his masters orders just like in trance and he didn't feel joy as he had put the Templar to flight to safe Masyaf. While Al Mualim had stood in front of him two assassins to each side of Altair having a hold of him, all he could think about was how he could suppress the tears and Altair, the arrogant, stoic Master-Assassin, came back in all its glory to hide his true feelings.
The knife hit him unexpected. To his surprise he didn't feel the pain. A figure caught his eye and he looked up to see Malik standing in one of the windows of the fortress, watching him. It was the last he saw as his surroundings suddenly fell into ruin like a shattered sheet of glass. The colors turned into black and white and the shapes of Al Mualim in front of him and of the two guards to his sides vanished. Suddenly he found himself in an empty white room. For a brief seconds he thought it was what death felt like but then he could hear a woman's voice from far away.
"His heart's rate is critical! We have to get him out of that, now!"
Everything went black and suddenly there were hands all over his body, pulling and shaking him.
"Clay?! Clay, can you hear me?"
It was the voice of the woman and Altair opened his eyes. He starred at her face hovering above him, he blonde hair framing it.
"Clay, please, say something, anything." She kept talking to him and he knew it was English, but it just didn't made any sense. Nothing made any sense anymore.
"Let go of me", he shouted at her and pulled away from the hands. For the first time he spotted his surroundings, a white room and next to him stood a man, wearing white clothes. He was laying on a strange table and he saw things he couldn't believe. "What is this sorcery?", he demanded to know and rose to a sitting position. He looked down his body, but his white assassin's robes were gone. He wore strange clothes made from material he had never seen before. He caught his breath when his glance got to his hands. He had ten fingers.
"Clay, I don't speak Arabic. You have to speak English with me." He could hear the worry in hear voice.
Clay?
What a strange name but at the same time he felt something inside him move as he repeated the foreign word inside his head. He stood up hastily and his legs almost gave away, he had to hold onto the table to not fall.
"Maybe you should lay down. You've spent a long time in the Animus. Come on, I help you."
He understood her words although she had an odd accent but they didn't make any sense. He felt like as if he was inside a dream and could only watch. He felt a hand on his arm and for the blink of an eye a movie started to play inside his head and showed him the life of a child that grew from a boy to a man and he saw and heard things, foreign things, which he didn't know and didn't have words for. Everything happened so fast. But his legs started to move by their own as he was lead into another room with a bed inside.
"Get some rest", the woman told him in a kind voice as he suddenly knew that her name was Lucy. How he knew her name he couldn't tell. He let her help him into the bed and as she pulled a blanket over his body he saw how the man from before also entered the room holding a strange looking device with a long thin needle at one end in his hands
"He will sleep better with this", he heard him say and watched helpless how he bent down and exposed his right arm. He saw but couldn't feel how the needle disappeared beneath his skin. Seconds later he felt his lids grow heavy, his eyes closed on their own and he was pulled into a dreamless sleep while his last thoughts went to Malik.
He regretted it.
"Clay has killed himself."
"I know. That bounces us back with our progress, but we could gather a lot of information's through him."
"We left him too long in the Animus, Dr. Vidic. I believe he thought he was Altair. He had spoken Arabic, damn it! It was the fucking Bleeding Effect!"
"Ms. Stillmann, when your emotions are getting in the way of your work I begin to wonder if you're the right person for this kind of job after all."
"N-No, Sir. No... It's just that-"
"Good. Subject seventeen has already arrived. I would say we begin with the memories where we left off with subject sixteen. I suggest we should skip those, well, emotional moments and focusing on those who are important to us in the future."
Re: Author!Anon Old 'Fill': Maybe Not Part 6 of 6
He had ridden back to Masyaf and had told Al Mualim about his failure. When Malik had suddenly appeared behind him his eyes full of hate as they starred at Altair, there was nothing left to feel. Neither pride nor regret or guilt. Everything that was left was emptiness that threatened to swallow him. He had followed his masters orders just like in trance and he didn't feel joy as he had put the Templar to flight to safe Masyaf. While Al Mualim had stood in front of him two assassins to each side of Altair having a hold of him, all he could think about was how he could suppress the tears and Altair, the arrogant, stoic Master-Assassin, came back in all its glory to hide his true feelings.
The knife hit him unexpected. To his surprise he didn't feel the pain. A figure caught his eye and he looked up to see Malik standing in one of the windows of the fortress, watching him. It was the last he saw as his surroundings suddenly fell into ruin like a shattered sheet of glass. The colors turned into black and white and the shapes of Al Mualim in front of him and of the two guards to his sides vanished. Suddenly he found himself in an empty white room. For a brief seconds he thought it was what death felt like but then he could hear a woman's voice from far away.
"His heart's rate is critical! We have to get him out of that, now!"
Everything went black and suddenly there were hands all over his body, pulling and shaking him.
"Clay?! Clay, can you hear me?"
It was the voice of the woman and Altair opened his eyes. He starred at her face hovering above him, he blonde hair framing it.
"Clay, please, say something, anything." She kept talking to him and he knew it was English, but it just didn't made any sense. Nothing made any sense anymore.
"Let go of me", he shouted at her and pulled away from the hands. For the first time he spotted his surroundings, a white room and next to him stood a man, wearing white clothes. He was laying on a strange table and he saw things he couldn't believe. "What is this sorcery?", he demanded to know and rose to a sitting position. He looked down his body, but his white assassin's robes were gone. He wore strange clothes made from material he had never seen before. He caught his breath when his glance got to his hands. He had ten fingers.
"Clay, I don't speak Arabic. You have to speak English with me." He could hear the worry in hear voice.
Clay?
What a strange name but at the same time he felt something inside him move as he repeated the foreign word inside his head. He stood up hastily and his legs almost gave away, he had to hold onto the table to not fall.
"Maybe you should lay down. You've spent a long time in the Animus. Come on, I help you."
He understood her words although she had an odd accent but they didn't make any sense. He felt like as if he was inside a dream and could only watch. He felt a hand on his arm and for the blink of an eye a movie started to play inside his head and showed him the life of a child that grew from a boy to a man and he saw and heard things, foreign things, which he didn't know and didn't have words for. Everything happened so fast. But his legs started to move by their own as he was lead into another room with a bed inside.
"Get some rest", the woman told him in a kind voice as he suddenly knew that her name was Lucy. How he knew her name he couldn't tell. He let her help him into the bed and as she pulled a blanket over his body he saw how the man from before also entered the room holding a strange looking device with a long thin needle at one end in his hands
"He will sleep better with this", he heard him say and watched helpless how he bent down and exposed his right arm. He saw but couldn't feel how the needle disappeared beneath his skin. Seconds later he felt his lids grow heavy, his eyes closed on their own and he was pulled into a dreamless sleep while his last thoughts went to Malik.
He regretted it.
"Clay has killed himself."
"I know. That bounces us back with our progress, but we could gather a lot of information's through him."
"We left him too long in the Animus, Dr. Vidic. I believe he thought he was Altair. He had spoken Arabic, damn it! It was the fucking Bleeding Effect!"
"Ms. Stillmann, when your emotions are getting in the way of your work I begin to wonder if you're the right person for this kind of job after all."
"N-No, Sir. No... It's just that-"
"Good. Subject seventeen has already arrived. I would say we begin with the memories where we left off with subject sixteen. I suggest we should skip those, well, emotional moments and focusing on those who are important to us in the future."
"You've already found a new ancestor?"
"Indeed. His name is Desmond Miles."