Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only

Join or Die

✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion

Comments

Fill: Orphaned 5/?

[(Anonymous)]

The moments that followed could only be described as sheer uncensored panic. Everyone seemed to be having their own version of a mental breakdown, and it was beginning to manifest it self in loud and physical ways. Ezio had begun pacing, and was repeating the words 'oh my god', to himself over and over again, like some sort of mantra. Aveline and Connor had both grabbed a hold of a corner of Altair's jacket, and had begun pulling, trying to explain to him that they had to go, that they could under no circumstances trust the police. And all the while this was going on, Desmond had taken up squirming and crying in Altair's grip, nearly wailing into the thirteen-year-old's ear. Meanwhile, Altair was starting to develop a twitch in his right eye.

"Alright!" He spoke just loud enough to be heard over everyone else. "Everybody shut up! Don't move, don't think, don't breathe!" He pulled Desmond away from him, and then shifted him to his other arm, holding him close again. Everyone fell silent, almost instantly, and Altair realized all eyes were on him. He looked down at Aveline and Connor and then turned to Ezio, who locked eyes with him, fear and panic still fresh in his features.

"Altair…" He spoke softly, and slowly. "Altair, what do we do?"

Altair swallowed heavily and looked up, as the red and blue lights continued to pour through the boarded windows, and the sound of footsteps and voices outside grew louder. He looked down again, his mind racing frantically. Finally his head snapped up towards Ezio, as he made his decision. "We hide. And when we can, we run."

"What?" Ezio's eyes widened. "Are you joking? Those are the police, out there!" He pointed towards the door, dropping his voice to a dangerous whisper. "There's a dead man on the floor, and there was a kid locked in the closet, and you want to run away?!"

"The police are—" Aveline began, grabbing hold of Altair's jacket again.

"Bad! We know!" Ezio hissed. "But this isn't… this is too messed up."

"Ezio." Altair took a step forward. "Think about this." He reached into his bag, and pulled out the journal, holding it up to show the symbol to his friend. "Everyone associated with this symbol is either dead or missing. Something big is going on here, and we've stumbled right into the middle of it." He pushed the journal back into its fold, and put his hand back on the back of Desmond's head, keeping the child's eyes safely away from anything too upsetting. The last thing he needed was a screaming two year old on his hands.

Ezio just stared at him, and his eyes flickered to the man who lay dead on the floor. He turned back to Altair, his face turning red and his eyes beginning to water. "We… we can't be fugitives, Altair." He whispered. "We're just kids."

Altair walked over to him. "We'll figure it out."

"How?"

Altair had absolutely no time to figure out 'how', because barely two seconds after the question had been posed to him, the two double doors that lay towards the front of the ware house on the opposite side that they had come in from, were kicked in with a loud and startling bang. All four children, Desmond excluded as Altair kept the boy's face pushed deep into his shoulder, turned to look as ten policemen filled the doorway, holding incredibly bright flashlights in one hand, and large gleaming guns in the other.

"Don't move!" One shouted, aiming his flashlight up and Altair had to turn his face and squint his eyes shut, as the light burned at his retinas. When the light finally passed from his eyes he glanced back up, blinking and trying to get a good look at the policemen, while his eyes continued to adjust. Once his pupils had readjusted, and he could see again, he looked the men over, scanning them up and down though he had no idea what it was he was looking for. At least, not until he saw it. There on their arms, plain as day, was the Abstergo symbol.

"Who are you kids?" Another asked, walking forwards a little bit. "Answer me, what are your names?" He demanded, keeping his gun trained on the group.

Altair's mouth ran dry, and he reached down, grabbing hold of Aveline's hand. He glanced over to Ezio, who continued to stare straight ahead in absolute horror. Altair took a step backwards, and Ezio turned to look at him, his eyes wide and Altair locked gazes with him. "Run."

"What…?"

"Run!" Altair grabbed Aveline's hand tighter, and clutched Desmond to his chest, and bolted behind two large over turned crates. The second he had moved, three deafening bangs resonated through the warehouse, and Altair heard the sound of splintering wood as a horrifying realization dawned on him. "They're shooting at us…" He turned around and heaved a sigh of relief as he realized that Ezio and Connor were not far behind him. "Just keep running! Stay low!"

"Are you crazy?!" Ezio shouted back at him.

"You want to die!? Run!" Altair bolted forwards, dragging Aveline closely behind him, and holding Desmond tightly, the latter of whom had quite understandably begun to cry. Altair darted from corner to corner, keeping his head as low as possible, as more shots rang out from behind them. "Get to the door!" Altair ordered, looking back over his shoulder, and continuing to dart forwards.

The door loomed just ahead, and Altair nearly gasped with relief. He darted towards it, and yanked on it as hard as he could, and pulled it backwards before propelling Aveline through, shoving her forwards. "Go! Go!" He yelled, putting a hand on Ezio's back as he grabbed Connor's hand and scooped up Aveline's, carrying them both through the opening. Altair darted through behind them, and pulled the door shut as tightly as possible, before turning around and motioning forwards with his hands. "Don't stop running! Go!"

Ezio looked back at him, a frown creasing his features. "Go where?!"

Altair looked up to see more police beginning to encircle them. He took a deep breath and glanced around him. From the side of the warehouse he could hear voices and footsteps, and he continued to heave breath in and out. He turned to Ezio and took a few steps forwards, pulling Desmond from his shoulder and holding him out. The two-year-old's tiny fingers clung to his jacket and he let out a loud cry of disapproval, as Ezio reached up and took him under the arms, shock on his face. Altair took a few steps backwards, and reached forwards turning Ezio around by the shoulder. "Go! Find somewhere to hide!"

"What are you doing?" Ezio's eyes remained widened in horror.

"Just go!" Altair turned around and bolted, running as quickly as his legs would carry him, in the direction of the voices and footsteps.

"Altair!"

He ignored Ezio's screaming, and as he reached the corner he heard the door they had come from slam open, nearly wrenching it from its hinges. He turned around, jogging backwards as a group of policemen all ran from the warehouse, and yet another five officers ran up from around the building. All eyes were on him, and almost instantly, every gun was too. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again and glancing over his shoulder. There was no sign of Ezio, Connor or Aveline, and Altair couldn't help but heave a huge sigh of relief. He slowly raised his hands into the air, as a sign of surrender.

"Get on the ground!"

Altair slowly lowered his knees to the cold muddy ground, and kept his hand over his head and his face lowered. He felt two rough hands grab his wrists, and force them painfully up his back, and to metal cuffs were slapped over them, cutting deep into his flesh. He winced as more hands forced him up to his feet, beginning to frisk him, stripping him of his duffle bag and switchblade. He grimaced as one hand grabbed him by his upper arm, and another pushed on the back of his head, shoving him towards a police car that began to pull around. The door opened and Altair fell face first into the leather seats as he was roughly pushed inside. He slowly pushed himself up, staring out the window, scanning the horizon for any signs of Ezio or the children. He wasn't sure if he was relieved that he did not see them, or horrified by the fact that he was alone.

-----------------------

When Altair had been little, his father had taken him to see an old police movie. He remembered one scene in particular, where the police had arrested one of the bad guy's henchmen, and interrogated him. The detective had sat on the table, and shone a bright light in the man's face, and demanded answers, and when the man had refused to tell him, the detective had punched him.

This was nothing like that.

Altair was sitting on one side of a big metal table, while another man sat on the other side, with a clipboard, and a pen. There was one large light hanging overhead, and a very large mirror that took up half the wall to his left.

"There were four other children with you." The man said, tapping his pen up and down along the edge of the table. "Where are they?"

It was the same questions, over and over. Altair said absolutely nothing each time, and instead continued to stare at his hands which he kept folded in his lap. He wondered if this was some sort of interrogation technique, to drive him insane so he would just crack and tell them what he wanted to know.

"What were you doing in the warehouse?"

Altair stayed silent, staring at his hands.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

He looked up that time, at the man and frowned before sighing and looking back down. "Are you going to hit me if I don't?"

"What? No."

"Then no."

The man across from him sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair, before standing and collecting his clipboard. He turned around, and walked to the door and left the room, closing it behind him. Altair leaned back in his chair, reaching up and tugging on his dirty beanie, pulling it down over his eyes. He wasn't sure what would happen to him now, if he would be sent back to boarding school, or locked away somewhere, or if they would do something even worse to him.

He buried his face into his hands, and leaned onto the table. He could feel warm tears slipping down his cheeks, and his hands slipped up so his eyes rested on the heel of his palm. His breath came in slow erratic hiccups, and he could feel his shoulders start to hitch. Altair wasn't sure how long it had been since he had cried, and despite what people would say about how it was good to let it out, and okay to cry, it did not make him feel any better. It just made him feel sick.

He folded his arms, and laid his head down on the table, burying his face deep into the folds of his jacket. Altair had no way of knowing how long he had been in that small room, but his exhaustion was starting to catch up with him. He closed his eyes and nestled his forehead into his arms, allowing his tears to pool on the table beneath him. He slipped in and out of sleep, occasionally waking at the sound of footsteps, or his own sniffling, and for all he knew, he had been like that for hours, before the door opened again.

Fill: Orphaned 5b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Altair pushed himself up from the table and ran the back of his sleeve over his eyes, and sniffing heavily to try and clean himself up. He rubbed his eyes before lowing his hand and looking up at the man who walked through the open door, without bothering to close it behind him. Altair raised an eyebrow at the man, and watched as he walked over to the side of the table and leaned over, depositing a small black object in front of Altair. The man then stood up straight, adjusted the lapels of his jacket, and walked back through the door, closing it tightly behind him. Altair could only sit there and blink for a few seconds before looking down at the object in front of him. He reached forwards and carefully picked the object up in his fingers to examine it.

Upon closer inspection, and after turning it over to face upwards, Altair quickly realized it was a cellphone. "What am I supposed to do with this?" He murmured to himself. Was he supposed to call someone? He had no one to call. Altair sighed and as he went to set it back down on the table, he nearly fell out of his chair as it suddenly let out a sharp ringing noise. The screen lit up and the words 'unknown caller' appeared in big white letters along with two buttons towards the bottom that read 'accept' and 'deny'.

Altair stared at it as it continued to ring, and glanced up looking around the room. Very slowly he readjusted his grip on the phone and reached up with his other hand to press the 'accept' button. He then raised the device up to his ear, and swallowed heavily.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Altair."

Altair frowned and squirmed in his chair, glancing up and around the room. "Who's this?"

"You're Umar's son, aren't you?"

Altair's eyes widened, and he leaned forwards onto the table, feeling his hands grow slick with sweat. "You know my dad?"

"Not personally, no." The voice on the other end of the phone was distinctly male, and had what Altair could barely discern as a British accent. "However, I knew who he was. What he was. Just like I know who you are, and what you are."

"And what am I?" Altair swallowed, and licked his lips. There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Altair began to tap his fingers up and down across the table. After a few moments of silence, he frowned and looked around him again. "Hello?"

"My apologies." The voice spoke up again, briskly and formally, as if he and Altair were talking business. "I have a few questions for you. Will you answer them?"

"Will you answer mine?"

"Fair enough. How long has it been since you ran away from the Masyaf boarding school?"

"Almost three years now." Altair answered, picking at his fingernails with his thumb. "What did you mean by you knew what my father was?"

"Your father belonged to a select group of people who had a habit of making very powerful enemies." The voice continued on talking in a very business like fashion, but that statement made Altair's mouth run dry and he clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles began to turn white. "My turn now, yes? You've been traveling with a small group of other runaways, haven't you?"

Altair could hardly master the will to speak. "Yes."

The voice was silent for a few seconds after that, and the next words were almost spoken like a whisper. "Is one of them named Connor?"

The question caught him completely off guard, and he debated the answer in his head before lowing his head just a little bit. "Yes."

"I see."

"My turn." Altair sat up again.

"Very well. Ask away."

The words did not come easily to him, and Altair closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a moment to calm himself down before he asked. "Was the car crash that killed my father an accident?"

"No."

The man might as well have come into the room and smacked Altair across the face. The answer sent him reeling, and he leaned back in the chair, grabbing the edge of the table, breathing heavily. He leaned back into the phone, grabbing hold of it with both hands. "Was he killed because of this group he was in? What was he part of?"

"I'm sorry, Altair, that's all the time we have for questions today."

"What? No, you can't-!"

"I do have some good news for you, though." The voice continued, interrupting him smoothly. "I am going to help you, Altair."

"Help me?" Altair felt angry tears beginning to sting at his eyes. "If you want to help me, then tell me why my father was killed!"

"Believe it or not, son, I'm trying to keep you safe by withholding that information. I'm sorry. Now, do you want to see your little friends again or not?"

"What?"

"Someone will be in with your things shortly, keep this phone with you when you leave. Find your friends… find Connor, and then call me."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Its like I said, my boy. I'm going to help you. When you find them, you call me, and I'll have you taken somewhere safe. I'll see to it you'll be provided for, and all you have to do is what you've been doing. Keep them safe."

"I'm not going to go find them so you can have us locked up somewhere, or put into some orphanage or something." Altair spat into the phone. "You're just using me to find them!"

"I suppose that's how it must look, isn't it?" The voice sighed dramatically. "Yes, I don't suppose you've gotten as far as you have by trusting strangers. However, it is not my intention to have you locked up or put into some orphanage. That is actually what I am trying to avoid."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because if I wanted to lock you up, I'd have you locked up. I don't need you to find your friends, I am perfectly capable of doing that without you."

"You're lying."

"Am I? They're all sitting in the bus station at High and North street, asleep on one of the benches."

"I… You're making that up."

"If that is what you think. Now there's a car waiting for you outside. You can either stay here in police custody, and wait for my influence to wear out which will allow the police to go collect your friends. Or… you can trust me, go get in the car, get your friends and then allow me to take you somewhere safe."

Altair bit down on his thumb, and then leaned back. "Why would you do this for us?" He asked, keeping his finger to his mouth. "Do you know Connor?"

"No… No, I don't. I…" The voice hesitated. "I knew his mother."

"His mother?"

"Yes." The voice sighed heavily. "And this is the best I can do to keep him safe. To protect him."

"And the rest of us?"

"Well, the rest of you are receiving spill over benefits." The man chuckled. "So, are you going to take advantage of my generosity, Altair?"

As the man said this, the door opened and the same man from earlier stood in the doorway, holding Altair's duffle bag and switchblade. Altair looked up at him and then looked away, leaning into the phone again. "I guess I don't have much of a choice."

"Good lad."

And then there was a click on the other end of the phone, and the call ended.

Re: Fill: Orphaned 5b/?

[(Anonymous)]

OH. This is so nice to find an update when my week has been so busy and I can finally relax a little, thank you, this makes me so happy ! =D

OP.

Re: Fill: Orphaned 5b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Great fill!!!! Can't wait foe more.