asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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assassin's creed

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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!

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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That was it then. No more coffee from that place and Malik really liked it! The mocha tasted good for a change as Cem actually knew how to make it.

He was cold all over and soaked thoroughly when he stopped in front of the small apartment complex. He still got an hour before he'd have to start work so there was nothing against visiting an old friend. Besides, he hadn't seen her for far too long and lately, he felt the need to see somebody familiar.

He cringed. That guy in the coffee shop looked familiar. Well, of course since he'd seen him just the other day on the train. But that was not it, that wasn't all of the story. It really was a story, wasn't it? It felt like as if they shared one and yet, he couldn't really name the tale but he knew it was there, hiding in the dark waiting for Malik to find it. He shook his head. Not now. It was still too early in the morning for him to set his wit's to work and he pushed the doorbell and waiting to get buzzed in.

Two sets of stairs later, a turn and a short walk along a barely lit corridor he stopped in front of a dark green painted door with a peephole in the middle of it, staring back at Malik. To his left a door opened and he glanced sideways, watching a man stepping outside with a bag of garbage in his hand. He thought it looked odd since he wore brightly polished black shoes and they looked a bit too expensive as if someone living in this neighborhood could afford a pair like that. Marta opened up and the wrinkled face smiled at him, her eyes shinning with warmth. "Come on in boy. You look like you need to warm up. Is it still raining out there?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not at Marta, never at her. He just shook his head and stepped into her small apartment, waiting for her to follow him into the small kitchen and sitting down at the table. Once she took a seat next to him he pulled off his coat, hanging it over the chair's back and placing the empty cup of mocha in front of him.

"You want something? I made some baklava the other day."

Baklava – how long has it been that he had some of that? Too long, that was for sure as he couldn't remember. "That would be great, thank you", he nodded and Marta got up again, shifting in her small kitchen and pulling old cabinets open, placing two plates in front of them onto the table and opening her oven taking out a baking sheet. She'd already cut it into small pieces and used her fingers to serve two of them on his plate, then on hers before she put the sheet back. "Coffee?" He shook his head and Marta sat back down again.

He picked up one piece of the pastry and bit into it, the flavor of pistachios invading his senses and it was sweet, oh so very sweet and he wished he still had some of his mocha left but it was good. Not as good as his mother used to make it but Marta had practiced over the years and improved her skills. She looked at him with big round eyes, waiting for him to say something. He nodded and licked his fingers. "'s good", he told her and Marta's lips broke into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen and she bit into her own, chewing slowly and swallowing eventually.

There was a children's home right down the street and only a few minutes away from Marta's house. It wasn't the best neighborhood but it could be worse. When Malik had been a child he often came visiting Marta since it was only a short walk and she always welcomed him with open arms. Over the years she had become something close to a mother for him and even now as he had long left the home moving into his own apartment he still came every other month visiting the old woman and catching up with her.

He didn't visit the children's home.

Lately though he could see a change when he came over to her place, usually before he had to go to work as he was too tired when he got off. Marta seemed worn out and her small apartment didn't look as tidy anymore as it used to be. Even now there were dirty plates piling up in the sink, the floor stained and on the small windowsill stood a vase with a bouquet in, one he got her last month and the flowers had died a long time ago.

"How are things?", he asked her in a small voice, the baklava on his plate forgotten but she just smiled at him, blinking a few times. "I missed my favorite little boy, that's all", she told him even though her voice sounded pressed and thick. She waved at him. "You know, lately I often think back when you've been younger. When you and Kadar came visiting me with dirty feet since you both didn't like to wear shoes during summer..." She cut herself off, her eyes growing empty and distant and she didn't move for the longest time. She folded her hands in her lap looking down, her long silver hair falling into her eyes. He could hear her sniffle.

He knew. He didn't have to ask her but knew. Next week Kadar would be dead for four years. He had tried not to think about it to just shove it away at the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tried, the memories came always crawling back and there was nothing he could do. Malik simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He always liked your baklava", he murmured softly and startled when Marta reached across the table to take his hand, his left one, her thumb stroking across it. He had to withdraw, not able to stand her touch.

"Could we just not... talk about him?", he said after a while, the clock on Marta's kitchen wall the only sound breaking the silence, its soft tick-tock hammering into his ears. Marta looked hurt for a short moment but then the expression on her face melted and when Malik glanced upwards he saw pity – he hated pity. He couldn't be angry at Marta, couldn't be angry at the woman that had given him and Kadar something close to a home when they'd been younger, alone and frightened in a country they didn't understand. He didn't understand it now either.

"Alright then", Marta sighed and she leaned back in her chair. "Are you sure you don't want some coffee? I could make you some", she offered and that smile was back on her face, a smile only women her age could manage, all warm and motherly but he could see that the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had gotten deeper.

Again he shook his head. "There's more, isn't there?", he asked her quietly and the rain outside got lighter. "Something you haven't told me yet."

"I'm going to move, Malik", she simply told him as she knew it was wasted energy to keep something away from him. He was good at reading people, always had been and most of the times she didn't manage to hide things from him. "I got the letter last week. They're going to tear the buildings on this block down, the children's home too. I can't afford a new place and I'm too old anyway. I found this cutest little retirement home", and she turned around, grabbing something on the kitchen counter and handing him a small brochure. Eve's Garden it read on the top, a picture underneath it showing a white house standing at the end of a green field with a small path leading towards it made out of white pebbles. It looked peaceful, almost nice. Even he had to admit that.

He looked up at her, the brochure between his fingers and blinked a couple of times. "They're tearing it down? Why?"

Marta sighed heavily. She'd been living here a long time. He came to the country when he was two years old, almost three living in the home down the street and Marta had been here just as long if not even longer.

"The block was bought by some investor anonymously. I don't know what they plan... a mall or something, oh what do I know", and she shook her head. "I have to be out of here by the end of the month."

"By the end of the month? But that's in two weeks!" Talk about short notice...

Marta smiled again and this time it looked empty. "I know darling. But there's nothing I can do and besides... my bones are a bit tired lately. I can't do as much as I used to do. It'll be better for me anyway."

Malik eyed her sceptically. "That doesn't sound like you", he murmured and picked up the baklava, bitting off another mouthful.

"No it doesn't, I-" She sighed heavily and looked up the ceiling, blinking rapidly and he knew she was fighting with tears. When she found his gaze again her eyes looked wet but no tears had fallen. "I always thought I would die here, you know?", she said softly, her voice small and kind of lost.

"Yeah I know", he sighed and this time it was him who reached across the table to hold her hand, the only comfort he could offer to her.

coming off anon to say oh my god i didn't expect a fill but I'm so happy there is a fill??!?!!

So far Im in love with it and I can't believe it still that there is a fill (two even omfg)

I patiently await the next updates.

I really like how you put emphasis on their feelings of familiarity, but it doesn't come off as forced. I especially loved the window scene with malik and the rain. I read that part and had to stop and just "Yes. That was a good visual."

hhhh maybe if I find the time I will try to draw something for your fill (and 2nd writer anon too!)

thank you thank you soooo much for taking this prompt up!

Fanart? Fuck I think I'm in love with that idea XD

He got a call somewhere around noon.

"Mr. al-Sayf?"

"This is him", he said and tucked his cell between his shoulder and ear so he had his hands free to still type on his keyboard.

"St. Joseph hospital. We have you here as a contact in case of emergency?"

Malik stopped typing and his hand reached for his phone, putting it on his other ear as he sat up straight. "Yes?"

"We're calling because of Mrs. Marta Rodriguez and-"

"Did something happen?", he interrupted her feeling strangely calm and yet, he knew that something broke inside of him. "She had a heart attack this morning and-", "But I saw her this morning, she was fine."

The woman on the other line sighed. "Something like that can come very suddenly, Mr. al-Sayf. She's currently in the ER getting treatment but we think it'd be better for you to arrive here as soon as possible."

Malik nodded, "No, I'll come right away."

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and for a moment he just sat there motionless, staring at his flickering screen. He couldn't feel a thing, not even the cold grip of fear about losing her. Maybe he didn't only lose Kadar four years ago, but maybe he also lost a bit of his humanity. He stood slowly up and put on his coat. "I have to go", he told Ellen, a young intern sitting at the desk next to him. She looked up at him, her glasses sitting at the end of her nose and she watched him across them. "Something happened?", she asked as her fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee, slowly lifting it up to her lips.

"Some kind of emergency," he told her and her movements stilled, she made a small 'o' with her lips. "Don't worry about it", he told her as he wasn't in the mood to answer any questions or for false pity. He was gone before she couldn't say anything and the ride with the elevator took longer than usually – at least it felt like it even though it must have been only a few seconds before the doors opened again and he walked through the big entrance hall of the building he was working in. The big TV screens hanging on the walls showed the news and he quickly glanced at them. He saw pictures of police cars, flashing blue red and white and a money transporter with two bodies laying in front of it covered by a white sheet. He didn't pay it much attention as people were crossing his path as it was noon, most of them enjoying their break or going out for lunch. As he walked through the doors his eyes fell on a man and he thought he'd maybe seen him earlier that day. He brushed the thought quickly away as if it was just dust sitting on his shoulder and when he stepped outside, he called a cab.

At least it had stopped raining.

He told the driver his destination as he sat and closed the door, looking outside. He saw the man standing in the middle of the hall, watching Malik as people moved like busy little bees around him and he pulled a phone out of his pocket, dialing quickly. He lowered his gaze and when he saw his shoes he knew where he'd seen him before. The one in Marta's corridor just this morning. Huh – talk about coincidence.

The cab driver took off and the further they went through the streets the more he forgot about it and his thoughts returned back to Marta. She was a strong woman. Unfortunately, things like this happened and Marta was old. He wasn't too worried that she could die and that thought made him a little afraid. All these years he took Marta for granted and somehow, he'd thought she would always be there. When Kadar died, Marta was the closest thing he had left of a family. If something would happen to hear he'd be alone. He always ignored that thought and it wasn't any different now. Marta would be alright – she had to.

High buildings and street names were passing by as they drove and Malik turned a little in his seat. They were driving down to the docks. He frowned. "I don't think that's the right way", he said and his eyes found the back of the driver's head. He looked at his license. "Robert", he said as it was the name standing on the small plastic card. "You need to go the opposite direction."

But he didn't answer and he could hear the audible 'click' of the door locks shutting down. "What is this?", he asked him, but Robert tabbed a small sign just above his head over his rearview mirror. 'Do not talk with the driver' it read and Malik reached forward, his fingers curling around the back of his seat. "Stop the car, I want to get out", he told him but the man kept driving. "What the fuck is going on here?", he roared and reached for the small button to let the window down but nothing happened.

He turned back and could see that they were in fact down by the docks, big empty warehouses emerging from the grounds. The glass started fogging and he brushed his fingers across it to get a better look.

The car stopped and Robert turned off the engine, pushing a little button on his door and the window went down before he stepped out. "What the fuck? Wait!" Malik turned quickly back around, his eyes following the man and he tried the door handle but it was still locked. He turned in his seat, trying to look into every direction at once and then decided to climb into the front to escape through the open window.

Then he saw it. A small projectile flying through the open window, hitting the other one at the passenger side and falling into the footwell. The last thing he could remember was thick, white fog engulfing him, lights shinning into the car and a masked man approaching him holding a rifle in his hands and pointing it at Malik. He coughed, trying to cover his mouth with the fabric of his coat but it wasn't any use. He couldn't see anymore and his lungs burned with need for fresh air as his limbs grew heavy and he slumped down on the backseat. His eyes were heavily lidded but he couldn't move anymore and out of the corner of his eye he saw more men approaching, clothed in black with masks covering their faces. It almost looked like war.

He hoped Marta would forgive him.

xxx

The day just gotten worse and worse. It was shortly after they'd finished their coffee when Altair and Toto got the call that one of their vans had been attacked, all the money taken and two guards dead. As if that wasn't bad enough it got all the more real for Altair when he heard it happened on his route, the one he usually drove with James, the very one he switched this morning. It could have been him. It could have been him the one getting taken away in a black body bag.

He took the rest of the day off and called in sick for his second job, walking numb through the city without having a destination. Toto had asked him if they wanted to get a beer at a nearby bar but he declined, not in the mood to be in the company of others. Every so often he stopped at little shops, looking through the windows and watching the news on their TV screens as the attack was all over them. It had stopped raining but there were still heavy clouds painted across the sky, dark and gray and it looked like as if it could start raining again any minute now. It was strangely fitting his mood and he pulled up the hood of his white sweater, trying to disappear in its shadows and blending out all of the other people he met on the streets. He wanted to disappear and not coming back. This country was sickening him, slowly draining him of all his life energy but where else should he go? He'd been to so many places in his life and not once did he feel at home. To be honest, he was rather surprised that he managed to stay for so long now in one place at all. He was used to something differently back from his childhood where they often switched locations as if his parents had always been on the run.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad?"

Altair looked to his side, a black limo had stopped just next to him and he was looking in the face of a young woman. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking. The limo followed him.

"I'm Lucy Stilman from Abestergo Industries. I would like to talk with you", she insisted and he could imagine her eyes looking up at him from the backseat. After she said Abstergo he almost zoomed out, ignoring everything else she was saying after that. Not again, fucking hell, no! His day was already bad enough, he couldn't deal with these guys right now.

"I'm not interested. I've told you that multiple times by now", he replied and his mood got fouler by the second now. Those people seriously had a terrible problem with rejection and now it was starting raining again, big fat drops falling from the sky and one hit him in the neck, slowly running down underneath his clothes and across his spine. Altair shivered. It really wasn't his day, was it?

"Well, what can I say – my boss is really interested in you. Would you please join me?"

Altair stopped and turned towards her fully, gritting his teeth that his jaw hurt. "Look, lady-", "Ms. Stilman.", "- Ms. Stilman. I have no idea why you're interested in me so much that you harass me all the time. Whatever it is you're looking for, I assure you it's not me." He made to turn away but her next words stopped him.

"Oh but you're exactly the one we're looking for. In fact, we've been looking for you all your life."

"All my life?" Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sound of it but when he looked at her he couldn't see any danger in her features. In fact she was radiating a soft blue, a comforting color that made him ease just a little as if a soft blanket was wrapping around his body, keeping the cold away, but he couldn't forget the soft legs of the spider dancing across his spine.

She nodded and opened the door, stepping out of the limo with a black umbrella in her hands. She opened it to hold it over her head to not get wet. The rain slowly became more intense.

He snorted at her. "Yeah, right."

"I think you don't understand Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he was a little impressed that she could pronounce his name without flaw. "We're not the bad guys here."

"It seems we both have very different definitions of 'bad'. Look, I already have two jobs and it's enough money for me to live. I'm not interested and now excuse me." Altair hunched his shoulders and made his way down the street. Lucy kept standing on the same spot he left her, the limo's engine still running. He felt her gaze burning into his back but he didn't care. Tomorrow he would change his phone number, yes and maybe their calls would stop.

"Have you always wondered why you've these strange dreams? Did it ever feel to you as if you don't belong anywhere? That nothing is true?", she called after him.

This – this made him stop and all the muscles in his body went rigid. Altair slowly turned around. She was still standing there in the rain, the drops slowly running down the black surface of her umbrella gathering in a small puddle to her feet, smiling at him. "We can help you find your answers", and for a moment he thought it was true. She looked at him with such honesty that it was hard to believe she was lying.

Altair tilted his head to one side. "What do you know about me?", he asked dangerously low, the rain completely forgotten. He was torn between his options – should he just walk away from her, acting as if the encounter never happened? But he never was the one to take flight. Or should he stay, waiting for what she had to say, what they could offer him and maybe find a way out of this mess that called itself his mind?

"Everything, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. We know everything about you."

He didn't like it, not one bit but Altair nodded. Could it get really worse? He didn't think so. Ever so slowly his feet set into motion and he crossed the small distance separating them.

Lucy held the door open for him as he climbed onto the backseat.

xxx

"How the hell did you manage for him to come with you?"

"I simply talked with him – it's what I've told you all along."

"My orders had been different."

"Your orders failed – now we have to deal with the mess of the aftermath. Two people died today. They didn't have to." Lucy crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's here now isn't he? That's all that really matters." New confidence blossomed in her chest as she could present him his most favorite trophy. Not only his trophy but her ticket to freedom and the thought let goosebumps spread across her skin. She was excited and maybe it'd be her downfall but for the first time in a long time she wasn't afraid – she got the chance for a life now, a life without Abstergo.

Warren Vidic nodded slowly as he stepped away from the glass through which he'd watched him. It felt unreal and his skin was tingling. He had waited for this moment for so long now and couldn't believe it had finally come. He'd been working for this moment all these years and she was right, the circumstances really didn't matter.

"What about the other one?"

"Is waiting in room B 12."

"Did you talk with him as well?", he pondered and the smile he was showing her was mocking.

"Kind of..."

Gosh, I love your rapid updates! This is awesome - I love how Malik had to be trapped while they convinced Altaïr with words. I adore it.

Yeah, I pretty much spend my weekend writing ;) I have a few more parts on my computer so I think I can update on a daily basis for a while. And: thank you so much for your comment!

Altair waited.

He was looking between the large mirror to his left and the door in front of him, his hands resting on the cold metal table he sat at. This... didn't feel right. It didn't look like an office in which you sat when you were about to have a job interview. It looked more like an interrogation room. They had offered him coffee though which he'd accepted and it tasted like piss – nothing compared to Cem's coffee he enjoyed so much. A clock was hanging above the door showing him that it was in the early afternoon now. This was ridiculous – he has waited for an hour now! Just as he was about to get up the door opened, revealing a man in his early fifties and that woman, Lucy. She walked a little behind him and Altair had no doubt that he was the man she had been talking about, her boss.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. I'm so glad you could manage to follow our invitation. I'm Dr. Vidic." He held up his hand for Altair to shake but he simply stared at it and then back to his face, his ambers eyes reflecting in the man's glasses. Altair didn't move at all and his hand slowly sunk down.

"I would hardly call it invitation", he snorted and Lucy closed the door behind her as the man sat down in front of Altair at the other side of the table.

Vidic rested his elbows and arms on the table, his head hanging low between his shoulders and then he looked back up, a smile spreading around his lips. "Well you see, we're really interested in you and your skills", he smiled, his voice sounding warm and somehow fatherly. He held out one hand and Lucy quickly put a file in there and he opened it in front of him, turning a few pages. "You have a bright mind, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he looked up at him again, the file still in his hands and Altair craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse at the written words. "Why does an intelligent young man like you working for a security company and uh-", he looked back down onto the page, "a nightclub?"

Altair shrugged with his shoulders. "It's not bad money", he muttered and leaned back into his chair to bring a little distance between him and Vidic. He didn't like him.

"You speak four different languages among English. What were they again? Hebrew, Russian, Italian and... what was the last one?"

"German", Altair said softly and folded his hands in his lap.

Vidic spoke again, "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. Why?"

Altair's eyes narrowed as he was flexing the muscles in his left hand. "If that file says so much about me then I'm sure you don't really need my answer. Just look it up."

Vidic's smile never died and he looked at Altair as if he had just solved some kind of riddle, all proud and delighted. Was this a test maybe? "You're right Mr. Ibn- or may I call you Altair- "No.", "-well, Altair. You dropped out of school after your parents died, isn't that right?"

He gritted his teeth, jaw working and his cheek's muscle was twitching. "Yes", he forced out between pressed lips.

"Car accident, mh?" Vidic picked something up, a photograph. The paper was thin enough for him to see what it showed on the other side and he looked away. Vidic clicked his tongue and for a moment his brow wrinkled in mild disgust. "Terrible, terrible", he said and shook his head, placing the photograph in front of him and as Altair glanced back up he was greeted by the sight of a destroyed car. It was hardly recognizable, completely wracked. Blood was covering the gray pavement, a piece of flesh showing in the cube of metal and he could only assume that it was a hand with all the bones showing, brain splattered on what had once been the windshield. He looked away again but said nothing.

"Your parents died near Munich. Hit by a ghost driver on the Autobahn going 180 km/h. They were both dead on impact."

"I know", Altair pressed the words out between his lips. "You don't have to tell me again."

"No", Vidic shook his head, smiling again and picked up the picture to place it back into the file. "You're probably right."

"Where did you get all of that? Are you working with the government?" Altair eyed him skeptical. If he learned one thing within the last few minutes, then that this wasn't a pharmaceutical company. Vidic chuckled again and pushed his glasses back on his nose. "I wouldn't call it like that but if that's what you want to believe I won't stop you."

Altair's patience was stretched like a string of bubblegum and it wouldn't take much longer before it'd tear. "Then who are you?"

He closed the file and leaned back in his chair, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his white coat. "Ah you see", he sighed and put them back on, "that's a good question. But I think the one you really want to ask is, who are you?"

"Who I am?"

"Exactly."

"I know very well who I am."

"No, you don't", and for the first time Vidic looked like as his aura felt for Altair, a flashing red light radiating danger. His eyes went cold and distant, almost greedy his face turning into an ugly mask of evil. "You're damaged, Altair. But we could fix you."

"Damaged?" Altair placed both his palms on the table, arms outstretched. "I wasn't in that accident you know?" His chin gestured towards the file laying next to Vidic's hands on the table. "No brain injury or anything."

It only earned him a sharp laugh and Altair looked up at Lucy but her face was as emotionless as it could get, almost as if she was nothing but a statue. "No, I'm not talking about that kind of damage. The problem is right here", and Vidic tapped his temple. Altair didn't understand.

"You see, I'm a scientist", Vidic told him and spread his arms to each side while he leaned heavily back, the chair's legs scratching over the floor in a loud screech and Altair cringed. "A researcher, you know? I assume you suffered from strange dreams? Nightmares?"

Altair nodded slowly though he was seriously considering to just leave. This just got more and more creepy and he wished for nothing more but sitting in Cem's coffee shop and sipping some mocha.

"It must be hard not knowing who you really are – everything feels empty, meaningless doesn't it?" Vidic sat a little more straight and his eyes narrowed, a shadow crawling across his face and Altair felt cold. It seemed the man was finally cutting to the chase. "Do you know Sigmund Freud?"

It wasn't what he'd expected and Altair blinked. "Course I do."

"Freud had a young and very talented apprentice. Carl Jung. Have you ever heard of animus and anima?"

Altair shook his head, no, he didn't.

Vidic sighed as if he was disappointed that he didn't understand and leaned his head to one side, folding his hands in front of him and looking down at them. "Jung believed that the anima and animus are the two primary archetypes of the unconscious mind. He described them as elements of the collective unconscious, a domain that transcends the personal psyche. You know, it is said that the key to controlling one's anima/animus is to recognize it when it manifests and exercise our ability to discern the anima/animus from reality."

He nodded with a frown.

"So basically... we're all acting on our ancestral memories. But there's more. We've designed a machine which lets you enter your ancestors memories and relive them. The Animus." Vidic was a little red in the face as if he was very excited and maybe he really was, some lunatic scientist who would scream any minute now 'It's alive!' and laugh like a maniac. Altair thought the picture of Frankstein's monster fit the situation perfectly – at least when it came to Vidic and that crazy look in his eyes.

And now Altair was lost. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You... you are special, Altair.", Vidic assured him and stood up, walking slowly back and forth. "Not only do you have a very old bloodline... but you actually are your ancestor. A reincarnation." He made a final gesture with his hand. "Your DNA is to 100% identical - as if you're ancestor never died. You actually share the same name!"

He didn't say anything because all of it was just downright ridiculous and he didn't know he'd be able to hold back his laughter. So he just sat there, staring up at Vidic with a complete straight face.

Vidic chose to ignore his look. "As I've told you, you're broken Altair. We can make you complete and you will get all the answers to your questions. How does that sound?"

Altair decided then to just go with it and he glanced shortly at Lucy, trying to read anything in her face but she just stared blankly back at him. "This sounds like something that doesn't come for free", he answered carefully and Vidic chuckled softly. "Why would you want to do this for me?" He didn't say that he didn't believe any of what he'd just been told.

"I'm looking for something, Altair and you know where I can find it."

Altair shook his head and scoffed, slowly getting up and standing behind the table. "No, no, no. I have enough of this. I don't know what kind of freaks you are." He looked between Vidic and Lucy. "Scientology, Mormons or whatever. But whatever it is you're believing in, I don't. Have a good day", and he made his way towards the door but Vidic stepped in front of him.

"I'm sorry Altair, but I fear I can't let you just go. You see, I've been looking for you for years."

"Too bad but it's not my problem." He tried to walk around him but again, the man stepped in front of him and placed one hand on Altair's shoulder, holding him back.

"Oh but yes it is", he nodded and there it was again, that smile of his which looked so fake. Vidic reached behind him and pressed the small button of an intercom. "Show him please."

New light spread into the room and to his left side Altair could see that the mirror vanished, replaced by a smooth window he could finally look through. He could see a room on the other side and there were two guards standing behind a chair with a man sitting in, a black hood covering his face and arms cuffed behind his back. Vidic noted to one of the guards and the man stepped forward, pulling away the black fabric and revealing his face. His black hair was tousled and he looked pale, blinking rapidly against the bright light.

Just... what the hell?

Vidic grasped his shoulder and stood close by, his lips almost brushing Altair's ear as he whispered into it, "He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him. You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you – I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice. Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf."

The memory collapsed above Altair like a wave, drowning him and pulling him deeper, deeper, deeper into the black abyss of his mind. He groaned and fell, hitting the ground hard with his knees and held his head as pain made it feel like as if it was ripped in two. Malik's name was ringing in his ears and he heard someone screaming but he couldn't breath any longer, gasping for air helplessly as sorrow threatened to crush his heart and smash it into thousand pieces.

"He's panicking", Lucy said and her voice sounded worried but Vidic just held her arm. "No, look", he said softly, smiling still. "I think we just triggered something."

Altair moaned with pain and held his head with both hands, looking back up and his eyes met Malik's who watched with horror. It was the last he saw before he lost consciousness, remembering a man staring at him holding a bloody arm with betrayal in his eyes.

Oh MY GOD HOW DO YOU LEAVE OFF RIGHT THERE THOUGH OH GOD

Im on the edge of my seat author i just uGHHh

i just kept leaning in closer to my screen (and you update so quick ahah)

very good update to see!!

Thank you so much : )

[I'm sorry that it's so short today... I'm just effing tired :( ]

For us to live, you had to die.

His father died when he'd been elven. Altair had watched as they executed him – his father's life to save a traitor's. His life to pay for a mistake – but it only left one suffering in the end. An elven year old boy who watched his father's beheading, blood staining the grounds as his head fell with empty wide eyes staring up the gray sky. A few years later it happened all over again. The man who'd been as dear to him as his own father died through his blade. Some thought of Al Mualim as a demon, corrupted by the Apple's power, his mind poisoned. For Altair, it wasn't that easy. He couldn't see evil now as he looked at the old man's broken body. All he saw was a man who taught him so much as a child a youth and later as an adult. The worst part was that Altair knew – in his twisted mind, Al Mualim didn't mean harm. He thought what he did was good, he thought he delivered peace. And Altair understood which made it even harder for him to breath now as he carried the corpse towards the pyre. He couldn't hate him and he didn't see a demon when he looked at him, just a man who wanted to do good with terrible methods.

He was eyed skeptical by several members of the Order, some of them still trapped within the artifact's magic, its invisible threads looped around their bodies and playing them like little puppets. Most of them were simply confused, scared maybe, as their Grandmaster had died and everything was at chaos. Others though believed Altair being the real traitor, corrupting their Master's mind and lulling him into doom, killing him in the end as if he'd been planing everything right from the beginning. Only a few knew the truth as they had fought by Altair's side, helping him to get into the fortress so he could meet his fate as he stood in front of Al Mualim, ready to find his death if he should fail. No one stopped him as he walked towards, laying their Master down onto the piled wood, his fingers brushing across the black robes and for a moment he thought he was only sleeping. Nobody was attending the funeral as it wasn't really one, his Brothers holding their distance - most didn't approve with burning him. As the sun slowly died and with the moon rising it was just him standing their, his Grandmaster's ashes still glowing a soft orange its heat reaching his skin, warming him.

He didn't turn around when he heard him slowly walking up to him. Malik stopped just shortly behind Altair – even he didn't dare to get any closer. He was silent for the longest of moments, the fire still cracking. "Sad are only those who understand", Malik said eventually. Altair's head felt just a bit heavier, his muscles tired and heart cold. He had his hood up, shielding him from the soft breeze blowing and from everybody's eyes watching him. He wondered how it was possible for Malik to be so spot on and his shoulders slumped down as he curled the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist. "You know what he always said? We're using lies to tell the truth while the Templars use them to cover the truth up", Altair murmured softly, his words carried away by the wind and sparks were dancing in front of him. He looked up into the dark sky, the wind bringing tears to his eyes. "It makes me wonder now which of those he did."

"Don't confuse yourself Altair. He was fooling us, betraying and compromising our Creed. You did the right thing in the right moment."

"And when the moment ends?"

"When the moment ends it's in the past. The past shouldn't weight you down."

They were quiet after that, both lost in their own memories, fighting their own inner battles. While Altair often enjoyed the silence, today it was just too loud for him to bear. "What are you doing here anyway?", he asked Malik in a raspy voice.

"We are one, Altair", and he thought he could hear the smile in his voice. "As we share the glory of victory-"

"-so too should we share the pain of defeat", Altair finished as it was the same Malik told him back in Jerusalem when he'd told him he was sorry.

"It seems today it's both. Victory and defeat", Malik murmured, placing one hand on Altair's shoulder, squeezing gently. It was actually nice not being alone also Altair was torn between shoving the other man away or relaxing underneath his touch. His muscles went tense anyway and for a split second he trembled, fearing for a moment that he wouldn't be able to control his emotions any longer. He swallowed it all down then and they stood there for a long time until it was deep in the night, the fire had long died and its warmth was gone. Malik had left eventually, leaving Altair by himself and when the ash had cooled down he took a fistful of it, stretching his arm out and then letting go, all of it, the gray flakes flying away with the wind just like the memory he had of a man that no longer existed.

Malik bby ;; I feel so sorry for him, he had nothing to do with it, the poor thing. Here's hoping Altaïr (or even Malik himself) will find some way to save the day. Can't wait for the next update!

It's... going to take a while before 21th!century-Altair and Malik will meet again =/

When he woke up it felt like as if somebody had hit him across the head with a hammer. The world was foggy and it took him a few seconds before he could find the strength to open his eyes. He blinked and the room was spinning as he was nauseas. He was on a drip-feed, laying in a bed in a complete white room. For a small moment his sluggish brain thought it looked straight from a horror movie. Altair wanted to rip off the tubes going to his nose, helping him breath but he found his hands restrained to the bed frame, soft leather manacles wrapped around his wrists and holding him in place. The soft noise of beeping filled the room, the lights dim and it seemed it was late in the evening. There was a window to his left and he could watch the city lying to his feet.

"I'm sorry for these."

Lucy pushed herself off the wall to his right side and Altair glared at her, gritting his teeth. "Then take them off", he told her, his eyes never leaving her frame as she slowly walked around the bed, watching the monitors and changing something on his IV. "I will in a moment." He didn't try pulling at his restraints – he always thought it looked ridiculous when they did it on TV. If he wanted to get out of here he wouldn't need his muscular strength but his mind. Now – first things first.

"What happened?" He licked across his chapped lips and his voice sounded hoarse, his throat was dry. Since it was already dark outside he assumed he'd been unconsciousness for at least a few hours. He sighed heavily and his head sunk a little further into the pillow – did they drug him? He felt almost too weak to move at all. "You had a small seizure", Lucy told him straight forward and Altair looked at her frowning, tilting his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Uhm... what?" Lucy sighed and she rubbed her temple with one hand. "You see, I think-", she sighed again and her hand dropped back to the side of her body. "How much do you remember from today?", and she was holding his gaze, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Altair sighed and he closed his eyes, trying to brush the wafts of mist from his mind. "I remember... coming here. You picked me up", and his amber eyes opened again, glaring at her with actual betrayal. He had trusted her and learned one more time that no one could be trusted in this world anymore. It didn't mean it hurt any less. "I remember talking with Vidic...", he murmured and coughed, Lucy quickly reacting and holding up a glass filled with water and a straw inside so he could drink. After Altair swallowed she put the glass back onto the small table to his side. He looked back at her and for a short moment there were two Lucy's standing there, his vision blurring.

"Everything is just blank after that..." He remembered Malik but he didn't say it – maybe it was better if he would just keep it to himself. But he remembered him even if it wasn't much. A man he knew from his past but Altair couldn't say which past anymore. Vidic's words still echoed inside his head like a mantra and it was difficult to grasp their whole meaning as he didn't understand any of it yet. This shit was just too crazy too believe. But he would get there – he would get to the truth. He wondered what had happened between waking up and going to work and then coming here, as if somebody had just pushed him into some kind of weird parallel universe. "He said he could fix me", he added and now he did pull at his bindings even though it was just a bit but it really started to get uncomfortable and fuck, he just wanted to go home now.

"Yes he can. We can help you, Altair." Her eyes fell on his wrists. "I will take them off now. We've put them on so you wouldn't hurt yourself..."

"And here I thought I was some kind of prisoner", and Altair expected Lucy to laugh and wave him off, telling him how silly he was for thinking that but her lips turned into a grim line instead. "I'm not a prisoner, am I?", he pondered carefully and Lucy's hands flew across his skin, taking one wrist to release him. "You're not...", she shook his head, her voice soft and quiet.

"But?" Altair looked up at her and drew his hand towards his chest once his left one was free.

"There's no but", and his right hand was free was well. "We're really hoping for you to help us Altair", she was almost looking at him with pleading eyes. "It's a fair deal we offer. You help us and we help you."

That couldn't be true. Lucy might try convincing him nothing bad would happen but Altair knew better. He remembered Malik, staring at him with wide eyes. He had only gotten a few seconds to look at him, but he'd seen that he'd been beaten. "If I'm not a prisoner then what am I?", he asked her instead.

"I would hope for you to become a partner... some kind of business partner", she shrugged with her shoulders and walked around his bed, leaning next to the window with her arms crossed behind her back and she seemed smaller, more fragile... sad actually.

Sad are only those who understand.

Altair hissed with pain, his hand coming up to his temple. His head hurt, a sharp pain which felt like as if it would rip him in two. Lucy leaned her head to one side, her eyebrows rising with worry. "Everything alright?"

Altair nodded and swallowed a whimper, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I just... need a few... seconds", he groaned.

"What?"

"Just a few seconds", he said again and looked up at her, watching how she stepped closer, her hands placed onto the bed as she leaned forwards. "Altair...?" His eyes were flashing, turning bright and almost yellow for half a second. She pushed herself back, moving towards the door. "Maybe I should call Dr. Vidic..."

"What?", Altair called after her, turning in his bed. "What does that mean? Hey! Where are you going?" But she left without saying another word, almost fleeing the room and he could hear a key turning in a lock. Great. No prisoner, huh? Bullshit. Altair pushed back the blanket covering him and, oh joy, they stripped him off his clothes, leaving him wearing nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt. He was still weak on his legs as he stood and he walked towards the window. He was high above the ground and able to watch over the whole city. It was actually kind of a nice view. He'd always liked heights even when he'd been a kid, no tree or rock could ever be high enough for him not to climb and he often watched the birds passing through the sky, wishing he was one of them and free like an eagle.

"... I think he's Bleeding, or something", he heard a faint voice coming from the other side of the door and he turned a little.

"How's that possible? We didn't even start yet."

"I don't know, you tell me!"

The door flung open and he stood once more in front of Lucy who was followed by Vidic. His eyes narrowed at them and his hand turned into a tight fist as he gritted his teeth. "I see you're up and well?", he asked Altair, a delightful smile playing around his lips, looking like a kid on Christmas morning about to open all the presents.

He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him.

Vidic still smiled at him and Altair wanted to wipe it off his face forever. "So?", Vidic beckoned at him but he refused to get any closer. Altair slowly shook his head and the man sighed, turning towards Lucy. "This won't get us anywhere Ms. Stillman."

You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you.

Lucy took one step forward, sensing his distress. "Altair, he's here to help you. You had a seizure. That's nothing you should take easy. He just wants to do some tests with you, see if everything is functioning as it should be."

I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice.

Lucy slowly lifted her hand and it was only then that he realized he had reached the end of the room, slowly walking backwards and his shoulders met the cool glass of the window behind him. Lucy was looking at him as if he was a scared little fawn. He hated her pity, her fake sympathy.

"Altair... come on boy. Talk with me", Vidic smiled but his eyes narrowed, his mouth smiling but the rest of his face didn't show anything friendly at all.

Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf.

And something just snapped inside of Altair. "Fuck you", he told him and Vidic's eyebrows shot up in surprise, meeting the line of his hair. "Oh, I see", he told Lucy and focused back on Altair. "Do you realize you're not speaking English?"

Altair blinked – and blinked again, head tilted to one side giving the impression of a confused dog. "What?", he mouthed the word, all of his anger forgotten. "You're speaking Arabic. Very ancient Arabic I dare to say, a dialect not many are familiar with these days. So – could you please switch back to English?" Vidic made a small circling motion with his hand and while he was still smiling, he also looked a little annoyed. When nothing happened, Altair just standing there and staring back at them, he sighed and looked up the ceiling. "Ms. Stillman? A word outside please?"

Lucy looked from between Altair and Vidic and in the end, her eyes settled on Altair as she noted, her gaze never leaving his face. "Of course", she told him, following the man outside and into the hall.

When the door closed behind them, Altair slowly slumped down the window until he sat onto the ground. Earlier he wondered what had gone wrong between him getting up that morning and going to work and ending up here – he thought he kind of knew it now. It seemed as if he'd lost himself somewhere in between.

xxx

"I think we set something off earlier. He's starting to Bleed but I would rather see him in the Animus. We can control the Bleeding there – I don't want somebody like him loose. Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded slowly. "He's a wild beast Ms. Stillman and you should not pity him. I can see it in your eyes", Vidic warned her, then sighed theatrically. "It's always the same with you women. You see a hurt man and it's the same as if you see a cute little puppy. This is no puppy, he's a wolf and he wouldn't hesitate killing you. Men like Altair need a muzzle. He needs the Animus."

She swallowed again. "Yes Sir."

"Good. Now...", Vidic lowered his voice so it was barely just above a whisper. "Tell him we're going to do a few tests – just about everything that could get damaged during a seizure. If he agrees... you put him into the machine. Tell him it's for testing his brain function or something. I'm sure a bright young woman like you can think of something? He seems to like you better", Vidic grinned and Lucy felt sick to her stomach.

"You really want to go through with this?", she asked him even though she knew the answer. "Once he's woken up he probably won't remember anything from his life in the 21th century. You're going to erase his old personality, old memories." She shuddered a little and while Vidic had told her not to pity him, she did. Nobody should suffer such fate.

Vidic watched her, his hands crossed behind his back. "His whole life has been a lie – I'm just going to show him the truth."

I cannot handle these cliff hangers oh my god

UGH I am so curious as to where you will bring this story! I hope lucy stays sympathetic to altair and I wonder what happened to malik??? Oh gosh so many questions, but i will wait patiently!

;U; good job so far (I am also following it on ao3)

Malik groaned heavily when he came back to consciousness, blinking his eyes open as he was sitting on a chair. Something soft covered his face and it was hot, his head hurting and his throat felt like sandpaper when he swallowed. He rolled his shoulders and wanted to rub his face with both hands but he found he couldn't move them as they were secured behind his back and his wrists hurt as if he'd been restrained for far too long now. His lower back was hurting too and Malik realized it was dark fabric covering his face like a hood.

"Welcome back, Mr. al-Sayf", and he startled at the sudden sound of the voice booming loudly through the room he was sitting in, hammering into his head and adding to the pain. The voice sounded electronic as it came through an intercom and he turned his head towards the source. "Who is this?" The words came out as an raspy old sound and he wondered if somebody could understand him at all. His throat was dry, he needed water and Malik coughed, hunching his shoulders and leaning forward. "What do you want with me?", he added, his memories still foggy and he had a hard time to form a straight thought at all.

"Let's just say you're here as leverage", the voice told him. "I was hoping for you to help us with something." Didn't that sound bitter sweet?

Malik's head hung low between his shoulders, his body slumped forwards as he hardly had the strength to keep himself up right."What?", he thought he only mouthed the word but a soft chuckle followed soon and he realized he'd spoken out loud.

"You know...", the voice sounded heavily, "for someone with your background you made it pretty easy to capture you. Didn't you serve in Iraq?"

He shook his head again and fuck, the movement hurt and he could feel his pulse beating wildly inside his head. "What?", he asked dumbfounded again, not understanding a thing. "What the hell is going on?", he roared and pulled at his restraints, trying to free himself but it only caused the handcuffs to cut further into his skin. They were too tight and he must have struggled before, his flesh raw and hurting. The air became sticky underneath the hood.

"I just need to confirm who you are Mr. al-Sayf and we can move on. Born in Syria isn't that right?"

He nodded and wasn't even sure if they could see the movement. "And you immigrated to Iran shortly after with your parents?"

Again he nodded and he had honestly no idea why he did anyway as whoever it was speaking with him could just fuck themselves.

"They were killed weren't they? Because of the war? You and your brother were taken to the United States and placed in a children's home." There was a small pause. "Why where you brought here anyway?"

"We were injured. Needed medical treatment and surgery. They... couldn't do it there", Malik explained. This was clearly a misunderstanding and he kind of got the feeling they were thinking of him as an terrorist – he just couldn't come up with any other explanation than why he was here, getting asked all of these things.

"Oh yes, that's right. The building you were living in with your parents was destroyed due to a missile. It says here you were trapped underneath the debris for three days before soldiers found you. Mr. al-Sayf, may I ask a question?" Malik thought it was funny because there was no doubt they would ask anyway even if he'd say no. "Why did someone like you with your background serve in the military? You've learned the ugly sides of war at a very early age."

"Shut up", Malik muttered and his whole body jerked which almost caused him losing his balance.

"Your brother served as well. You and him weren't so lucky, were you?" He thought the voice sounded mocking and Malik gritted his teeth. He wanted them to shut up, to just leave him as the images of old memories invaded him like a storm, tearing through his body and leaving nothing but chaos behind. "You almost lost your arm at an ambush and were sent back home. That arm's still bothering you, isn't that right? You're taking really strong pain medication. One could almost think you're addicted to them."

"I need them", he pressed out between his lips, each word cutting into they memories and ripping them apart. "They help me functioning."

"They help you forget", the voice invaded the darkness, making it feel like as if they were able to look straight into his head. He slowly came to realize this was a planned thing, a planned kidnapping and he was currently held hostage – he could no longer hold onto the hope that they got the wrong guy because this... this was really him wasn't it? They were really looking for him with all the background they knew.

"Your brother was killed on his second tour. Three days before he was about to go back home. Oh! Today's the fourth anniversary of his death isn't it?" His said nothing to that, breathing heavily as nausea rolled across him like a heavy wave, drowning him and pulling him deeper. "That's really bad luck..."

"Shut up!" The words echoed in the empty room and Malik slumped back, swallowing heavily and rolling his head back, eyes set towards the ceiling. "Shut up...", he said again, quieter now and sweat was covering his skin like a thin sheet.

"Mr. al-Sayf", the voice sighed theatrically again, sounding maybe a bit disappointed, "There's no reason for you to feel so upset", and Malik could have punched them right then and there into the face. He imagined them smirking, all satisfied and smug about the fact he was at their mercy. "And there's nothing really to worry about."

"You've kidnapped and cuffed me to a chair." He didn't mention they had drugged him too. "And you tell me I don't have to worry?" He scoffed and pulled his shoulders up, shifting in the chair a bit. "Yeah, right. Look, I'm no terrorist, there's no reason for you to keep me like this."

"He's waiting for you Sir."

This was another voice just there, sounding small and distant as if the person wasn't speaking directly into the microphone but to whoever had just spoken with Malik. A second later he could hear some muffled voice, somebody was covering the intercom with their hand so he couldn't hear.

"- two guards." That was all he managed to make out before the voice returned speaking to him. "I can't believe there are two of you...", and Malik had no idea just what they were talking about. It sounded more like as if it wasn't meant for him to hear.

"Alright, alright." Malik nodded and he licked over his dry lips. "Just... just tell me what you want okay? This has to be a misunderstanding. Is it money you want? I don't have any, you've got yourself the wrong guy for that!"

"No, no. No money Mr. al-Sayf. I just need you for someone to remember."

"To remember?"

"Yes", and he could imagine them smiling.

A door opened and he startled and the light was switched on. He still couldn't see with the hood covering his eyes but it wasn't as dark anymore as it had been before. Footsteps were filling his ears as heavy boots walked across the floor and he just kicked at them since he could still move his legs – he wouldn't go down without a fight and his resistance earned him a hit to his head, an elbow meeting his eye and then another one, hitting him in the jaw. He groaned in pain, his head flung to the side and he could taste metal, blood pouring down his throat as his tooth had cut into his lip from the force of the blow.

"We don't like behavior like that Mr. al-Sayf. Stay calm and all will be explained soon."

Malik heard a soft 'click' and he assumed the intercom had been turned off now. There were two of them, he could feel them standing just behind him, could hear the faint rustling of fabric as they breathed. The men with him in the room said nothing but one firm hand was placed on his shoulder and pulled him upright against the chair again. He didn't say anything at all, his erratic breathing reverberating from the naked walls of the room. He had no idea how long he waited there but he felt weaker within the minute. The hood covering his face made the air sticky and hot, sweat tickling him at the back of his neck and his jaw and eye hurt, as did most of the rest of his body.

Time passed and he heard another click, the sound of something moving and then there was that voice again, the guards to his sides shifting. "Show him please", and the hood was ripped of his face, bright light invading his eyes and making them water and his head hurt. He was sitting in front of a window and could see into the next room, two men and one woman sitting there and one of them he recognized.

Malik stared at him with wide eyes and then the man's eyes rolled back as his whole body started to tremble and he hit the ground soon. The woman uickly went to his side, feeling for a pulse and rolling him on his side, white foam starting to build in front of his mouth. She was speaking to the other man, making wild gestures. Malik realized something was going wrong, terrible wrong and another man walked into the room, all clothed in white with a black bag in his hand, kneeling down. The second man, the one with the beard and glasses turned towards the window, teeth clenched and his lips pulled into a grim line. His eyes found Malik's and he knew just then that it was the man he had talked to over the intercom. He pushed a button next to his side and the window went dark and Malik looked at his own reflection in the mirror.

A second later he heard another click, the same voice loud and so much colder now, "Make him ready."

xxx

"So what did Vidic want from you?"

Lucy closed the door softly behind her, leaning against it with her back, hands shoved into the pockets of her pants. She rubbed her fingers across her brow, taking a deep breath in. It had started raining again, the soft sound of raindrops pattering against the window the only noise which filled the room. Altair had pulled the cables off his body earlier and shut down the machine. Lucy shook her head. "We need to do some tests-" She said it as if she would ignore his question.

"The fuck you can!"

"- we wouldn't want to risk your health. We are a pharmaceutical company after all", she flashed him a small lop-sided smile but Altair didn't return it, his eyes as cold as ever as they roamed over her body. She looked fit, very fit and he thought he could actually see a six-pack underneath her tight t-shirt. Her shoulders were broad, she was working out that's for sure. He wondered how hard he had to hit her for her to lose consciousness. He throat was vulnerable, he could use the side of his hand, hitting her there – but that could also kill her. Altair blinked just then – this wasn't like him. Yes, he knew how to defend himself, he knew how to kill but he'd never looked at anybody like that, like a predator who knew the human anatomy very well, knew where to hit, where to inflict pain and how to kill.

Lucy pushed herself off the wall, rubbing her hands together. She either didn't notice his look or didn't want to show him that she did, but right now she kept he friendly façade. "You're still speaking Arabic", she told him and ah, that explained why she didn't answer his question nor flinch when he insulted her. He didn't really notice speaking it. He just did, not paying much attention to how the words sounded coming out of his mouth, if Arabic or English. "That's probably because of your seizure", she made a small waving motion with her hand and then held it out to him. "I can help you. We can fix this", she told him emphatically and his eyes fell on her outstretched hand and he thought he could see it trembling.

He weighted his options and decided just then and there. He shook his head – even she would understand that. No, he wouldn't let them do any tests. No, he didn't want her help. No, Vidic could just fuck off. In the far distance he could hear thunder crawling through the sky. "Please", she tried to reach out for him, to grasp his shoulder but he shook her off and knew just then that she came to realize she'd lost his trust. "Come on – don't make me do this." Her voice was almost pleading now and he scoffed because she acted as if she had actually a chance to convince him working with them. Again he shook his head and made to walk pass her, pushing her aside as he reached for the door handle but she placed one hand firmly on his chest, holding him back. "You don't have any clothes, you can't go outside like this", and he looked down his body. Altair shrugged with his shoulders, he didn't care and if he had to walk naked out there, he would because every step would bring him further away from these people. "Wait for me here. I get you something to wear", she told him softly and pushed against his chest, bringing more distance in between them. He felt more like a trapped animal with everybody acting as if his fate was already sealed.

"Let me go."

"Altair..."

"Now!"

She flinched, her shoulders slumping. "I'll get you some clothes", she muttered once more and she couldn't manage anymore to hold his gaze, looking down on his chest where his collarbone was. "I'll be right back", she told him and her voice was small and fragile as if something inside of her was breaking apart. Her hands reached behind her back, searching for the door handle without looking and she slipped out of the room, locking him inside again.

He could have just grabbed and pushed her to the ground and yet he didn't. He could have easily overpower her, he could have taken her hostage, he could have – he could have done so much and yet he hadn't moved one single muscle in his body, not even his little finger. All which was left was the feeling that sometimes an alley could look like an enemy and it felt like a déjà vu. The back of his head prickled with old faded memories, emotionless and faceless, empty images whirling inside his head mostly black.

He could hear a hissing noise, like the angry snarl of a snake just above his head and Altair looked up, soft mists of bright white smoke filling the room. His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth, his hands turning into tight fists.

What a fucking bitch.

Oh my god this plot is turning so dark so fast but i love it omg what are they going to do :((( malik and altair :((((((

I hope Lucy sort of helps idk?? I can only wait and find out. Ugh poor malik and altair I just feel so bad but i...YES? UGHH i can't wait till they meet again like...with all this happening what can they do :((

"Welcome to the Animus."

It was the last he heard, white fog engulfing him as he made his way through the mists and the world came tumbling down, breaking apart only to be re-built within the blink of an eye. He stood in the middle of a courtyard, the sound of steel hitting steel piercing his ear, men shouting and goats bleating. It was cold and the ground wet as he set one foot in front of the other. Altair looked down on his hands, his nails dirty. It was early in the morning and the sun was slowly crawling up the sky but today it was covered by thick gray clouds almost touching the ground and swallowing the earth. He made his way towards the stables and beyond them, walking down a small hill with grass covered by first frost. He kept walking until he reached an old abandoned field, a small stable underneath a large oak tree in the far distance which had once been used to hold sheep. Behind the stable was a small creek which had been a river but as the last few summers had been hot with hardly any rain at all it was almost completely dried out by now. Altair stepped into the stable, the wood musty and old and the smell of sheep and hay still lingered in the air.

He could sense him approaching before he felt the hand on his shoulder, a hard push to his back sent him stumbling forwards – it wasn't much to make him lose his balance, it needed a lot more than that so Altair moved with the push, rolling his shoulder and turning slightly to the side, changing the position of his feet on the ground and leashing at him with his arm. He saw it coming and Altair's hand met empty air as he put one foot between his legs and Altair tripped over it and for a moment, lost his focus. Hands placed on his chest, pushing him back until he met the stable's wall and he snarled, angry at himself for falling for such an easy trick trying to wedge his own foot behind his knee and pressing back against him, trying to send him to the ground. But he was pushing back, his chest like a wall he couldn't break through and then, just like that, he gave away and stepped back but there was still Altair's foot and he lost his balance. For a moment, a smirk caressed Altair's lips but it only lasted for maybe half a second as his fingers curled in the front of Altair's robes, pulling Altair with him to the ground. They landed in a tangled heap of limbs and chaos, clawing at each other as each one of them tried to keep the upper hand, rolling over the dirty cold floor, forgotten pieces of hay sticking to their clothes and mud rubbing into the fabric. It was Altair who was on his back and he knocked him over, his elbow meeting his ribs and it changed everything once more with Altair straddling his hips, reaching for his wrist to pin it against the ground next to his head. They were both panting now, their breaths gathering in small white clouds in front of their mouthes and for a few seconds, nothing happened as they glared at each other. Altair was leaning down as a pair of eyes roamed over his face and he smirked, pushing his hand back to the ground forcefully as he made another attempt to get free. Their lips were almost touching now and he saw the movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late to react. The knee hit him in the back and he slumped forwards, loosening his grip of his wrist for just half a second but it was enough for him to free himself. The tables were once more turned, only now he found himself on his stomach, his arm pinned painfully behind his back.

"Enough of that", he growled into Altair's ear, his breath splashing like small waves against his skin and it send a small shiver down his spine. He didn't answer but gritted his teeth and he only pushed his hand higher up between his shoulder blades, sending a new bolt of pain through his body. Altair groaned and he tried to hit him but he just changed his position, pressing his knee down onto his backside to keep him perfectly pinned to the ground. His body bucked underneath his hold as he tried to shake him off before he laid still, breathing heavily and the silence was too loud. A few seconds later Altair tried it again and once more it was no use. In the end he kept laying there, a thin sheet of cold sweat covering his brow. He waited for Altair to calm down, leaning down to his ear. "Do you behave now?"

When he said nothing and after several minutes had passed without him trying to get free again, he let go of Altair's arm and slowly got up. Altair turned around and on his back, looking up at him and eyed the hand in front of him, grabbing it to get up. Their clothes were dirty, the both of them panting, glaring at each other. He didn't know who moved at first, maybe they both did but it didn't matter in the end as he closed his arms round him, their lips meeting in a kiss. Altair framed his face with both hands as he didn't want him to go, their tongues meeting in a slow dance, whirling around each other, invading each other's mouths in small waves. He almost melted underneath those lips, warmth spreading through his body and chasing away the cold. His heart was beating wildly and not just because of the adrenaline shooting through his veins because of the previous fight but of a whole different reason. He'd waited too long for this and now that the moment was there, he didn't want it to end, not ever. But they had to part eventually, both gasping for air as they had stolen each other's breath.

Malik was the first to move, taking a step back and bringing some distance between their bodies, Altair's hands falling from his face. Malik shook his head, "No." Altair held his breath and slowly released the air between his lips as he tried to close the gasp between them but Malik held him at arm's length. "This has to stop", he hissed and his fingers closed above the fabric of Altair's robes and his arm slowly sunk down before he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. "You're right", Altair nodded, lips pressed to a thin fine line. "I'm getting tired of letting you win all the time."

Malik groaned, then scoffed and resisted the urge to just roll his eyes at the younger man. "Don't turn this into some joke Altair."

"I'm not", he insisted and tried again to get close to him but Malik turned away. "What is this today?", he pondered with a hint of worry and he went pale as he finally realized. Malik couldn't meet his eyes, not this time and his shoulders were stiff. "Why?", Altair asked him, voice thin.

"And here I thought you're not a novice anymore. Are you that ignorant to not see it?" Malik wiped his face, turning around to face him, their eyes meeting and the look he saw in them hurt Altair probably more than he would ever be able to admit. "This", Malik gestured between the two of them, "is wrong. It's forbidden."

"You're telling me I'm ignorant and yet you use the same foul lies the Templars would tell us?"

"Are you calling me a Templar?"

"No. But nothing is true and-"

"-and everything is permitted. Don't hide behind those words. This has gotten over our heads. If nothing is true then-"

"Don't." Altair interrupted him, a sick ugly feeling of boiling anger rising within him, the bitter taste of bile burning his throat. "Don't you dare to say it."

"Then how do you know this", and again he nodded at Altair, then looked down his own body, "isn't just another lie?"

He blinked at him, dumbfounded. "I just do", he said quietly and he reached for Malik's hand, their fingertips touching but the other man pulled away. "But you don't trust me", he added a moment later, Malik's rejection feeling like a stab to his heart. Malik said nothing and while flames of betrayal and hurt licked across his skin, threatening to eat him alive he didn't move at all, wasn't even flinching. Instead Altair's eyes just grew cold. "No you don't", he voiced what Malik couldn't say. "And I thought you weren't one of them."

At that Malik looked up. "One of them?", he pondered, his fingers curling into a tight fist and Altair knew they were just at the brink of another fight.

"A fucking sheep", he spat and lost his control for just a small moment but it was enough for Malik to know what he just did to him. "A mindless, little sheep following the shepherd without questions as long as they're well fed. Look at you, you're almost choking on all those lies they feed you."

"Be careful of your next choice of words They might be your last before I rip your tongue out." Malik was practically fuming with rage and Altair knew he was pushing the older man. He just wanted him to hurt as much as he did at the moment, wanted to punish him, to make him suffer. He wouldn't step back, he wouldn't lose his ground in front of Malik. "Then prove me wrong", he hissed and he closed the distance between them with one large step, curling his fingers around Malik's shoulder and shoving him backwards. "Tell me this isn't true", he snarled, his body pressing up against Malik as he pushed him back still until Malik couldn't move any further, the wall blocking his escape route.

"It isn't true."

"You're a liar", Altair whispered, their faces so close they were breathing the same air, lips almost touching once more. Malik didn't move for a long time, just kept breathing heavily through his nose, his face pulled into an ugly angry mask.

"You're an ignorant", he said eventually and Altair's fist twitched but he didn't punch him. He let go of Malik's collar, his hands slowly sinking and he simply stared at him for the longest of times.

"So that's your decision?", he asked in a small voice, the words hoarse and heavy and in fact it did feel like as if they pulled him towards the ground as his legs grew weak. Altair stepped away, his voice thin and worn out, "I'm leaving tomorrow in two weeks. Master sends me on a mission to France. He told me this morning."

Malik simply nodded and Altair waited for him to say something, anything but the man pressed his lips tightly together and he knew getting Malik to talk was mostly an impossible task. "Is that how it is?", he asked him as he couldn't stand his silence any longer. Malik closed his eyes, sighing deeply and when he looked back up, he stared right over Altair's left shoulder at the opposite wall.

Altair nodded. "So be it", and he turned around, leaving the stable and the man inside behind him.

Oh mai.
I am... struck and captivated, and cannot wait to see what happens next.
well done ser Anon. Well done.

He was sitting on the edge of a roof, crouched and hands dangling between his legs as his target was about to leave the small tavern to his feet, the moon high in the sky and the air cold. His hidden blade came to live, his finger twitching nervously and activating the mechanism of the weapon when he was watching the man stumbling outside and onto the street, clearly drunk from too much wine. This late of the night, there were only a few up, mostly drunkards trying to walk home as it was the beginning of the week their money quickly spent on alcohol, or guards patrolling the streets of Le Mans. So far it was quiet and he was sitting in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

The man was old, early forties and he was using the whole street as he walked -stumbled- home, singing a song Altair didn't know and his words were sluggish, his tongue heavy by the wine he'd had. His eyes never stopped leaving the figure and he stood slowly, making his way over the roofs tops, jumping across street canyons as his target was heading towards the poor district – he was a noble man, his way should lead him to his home in the rich district. Altair though knew what business he had there and he was determined to catch him first. He'd spent the last month in France, always feeling like as if he was hunting nothing but the shadow of a man. A week ago he was able to gather important informations about the man he was after and learned that he was currently staying in Le Mans after he'd been searching for him in Paris. So, he traveled France's roads and made it to the city three days ago. He spent yesterday and the day before with observing his target, learning its routine and decided quickly to strike today as it was Monday and he was known for liking to spend his money on good wine and women to start the week.

Altair run ahead as he knew exactly where his target would turn into a small aisle, the shadows dark enough to swallow Altair when he would start his attack. He stopped, suppressing the urge to take deep breaths of air to keep silent. He could hear a dog barking in the distance, a hoarse whinnying. He watched his target turning into the small street, then stopping and leaning heavily against a wall. Altair cocked one eyebrow and watched how he emptied his stomach, the sound of vomit splashing on the ground loud in the night's silence. His face wrinkled up into a mask of mild disgust and he rubbed over his mouth, slowly crawling towards the edge of the roof and looking down. His target stretched his back, shoulders rolling and spitting on the ground several times before he continued his way towards Altair. When he was close enough, the assassin jumped.

Altair caught him by surprise, of course he did, and he took his target with him to the ground, his blade piercing through his shoulder. The wound wasn't enough to kill him but sure hurt like hell. He pressed his palm quickly over his mouth, muffling the sounds of cries as pain ripped through the man's body and he leashed at Altair who just ducked underneath his hand, connecting his elbow with the man's back knocking all the air out of his lungs. He sat up and crawled backwards, eyes wide and his back met a wall. Altair curled his finger in his collar and pulled him up, his target slumping heavily against the wall with his palm covering his shoulder, blood running through his fingers and staining the ground to their feet. Altair pressed close, his elbow across his chest near his throat and he wouldn't hesitate to increase his hold to keep him from breathing. "Keep quiet Alain de Sablé or I swear I will cut your throat", he hissed into his ear, turning his shoulder to press against the wound, the man's hand trapped underneath it. It earned him a hiss of pain but he kept still, wide eyes meeting Altair's in the dark.

Only when he was sure Alain wouldn't struggle he slowly let go of his hold, his hidden blade ready to end his life should he make a wrong move. Alain's breath brushed over his face, smelling like vomit and cheap wine and Altair breathed through his mouth. "Pourquoi tout ça, blasphémateur?", he snarled at him, eyes narrowed and face painted with pure agony as he watched Altair.

Altair's hand moved quickly, his fist meeting Alain's stomach, sending him toppling over and causing him to empty his stomach in front of Altair's feet again. Undigested pieces of bread clung to his lips as he looked up again, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "Tu pousses un peu!"

"Stop insulting me and I will", Altair told him in a low voice, pulling the man by his collar and manhandling him deeper into the shadows, pushing him in front of his body and kicking his legs so he fell to his knees, looking up at Altair. "What I want is information. Whatever it is you can tell me might be worthy enough for me to spare your life. Now...", and he held his hand close to Alain's throat, his hidden blade jumping forwards almost touching his vulnerable skin. "Your cousin. Tell me about him."

Alain looked up at him dumbfounded before his lips pulled back into an ugly grin. "My cousin?", he slurred, his arm hanging useless to the side of his body as it pained him too much to move his limb with the puncture wound in his shoulder. "If- if you have business with my c- c- cousin I suggest you talk with him not me."

"Tell me where I can find him and I shall follow your proposal."

Alain shook his head, a low chuckle crawling up his throat and spilling over his lips in an empty breath. "If that's what you want you're wasting your time, assassin. I'd rather die than telling you his whereabouts."

Altair narrowed his eyes at him, adding more pressure to his hold and the man winced with pain. "You'd rather die for a man who fucked your wife and killed your child?", he asked in disbelieve. "What a pathetic fool you are", he snarled. "Do you have no honor at all?" Of course he didn't have honor and Altair cocked one eyebrow at him. He thought a man with honor wouldn't spent his money on women and alcohol and emptying his stomach in the middle of the street for everybody to see. A man with honor would keep his head up with pride.

Alain spit to his feet, a mix of bread and blood landing right in front of Altair's boots. "You have no idea what you're talking about boy", he muttered. He grinned empty and hollow. "You're not equal to Robert. You're chasing a monster and talk about honor. If you're a man of honor yourself you can't beat him. You two don't play the same game."

Altair's gaze washed over Alain's face, his head tilted to one side as he mused over his words, turning them this way and that way in his head, trying to find the connecting pieces until the picture would be whole. There were still too many missing parts and he brought his blade closer to his throat, nicking the first layer of skin. "Robert has been traveling forth and back between Egypt, England and France, the Order is moving underneath his commands. Why? What's he looking for?"

Alain looked up at him with glassy eyes, his look distant. "He's looking for heaven", he slurred and he was moving with speed Altair hadn't thought to be possible in his current physical state. He ducked underneath Altair's blade and yanked up his arm, his elbow meeting Altair's wrist and he was on his feet within a second. The sudden movement was something he hadn't expected and it was enough for Altair to lose his focus for the smallest of moments as Alain kicked at his legs, sending him stumbling backwards. His fist connected with the assassin's jaw, sending his head flying the other direction and made Altair see stars. Out of the corner of his eye Altair could watch a silver shadow piercing through the darkness and he jumped back, the small digger missing his throat by mere millimeters. He didn't have enough time to gather himself as Alain was jumping onto him and he fell back onto the ground, his back and head hitting the stone. He was dizzy and felt the cold steel of the weapon pressed to his throat.

He watched Alain's face hovering above his own through a thick fog, his vision blurring. The man leaned his head to one side, a mocking smile standing on his lips. "Never underestimate your enemy boy", he smiled down on him, his words not sluggish at all but perfectly clear. "You think I don't know you're chasing me? You think I haven't heard about the man in White looking for me?" He spit down on him, the bloody saliva running down his cheek and Altair glared at him with angry eyes, gritting his teeth. "I'm Alain de Sablé you fucking salope. Just as my cousin I'm a member of the Templar Order too and I won't let some stray tell me what I have to do. One day, you're arrogance will be your downfall." Alain leaned in closer, Altair's eyes almost crossing with how close they were and all he could see was that ugly grin of the man above him. He tried to kick at him to hit him in the back with his knee but Alain just shifted his weight, avoiding easily his attempt to throw him of. He withdrew the dagger from his throat, the tip of the blade trailing down his chest and across his stomach and stopped just above his crotch. "Move again and I castrate you like the dog you are." Blood was spilling down on Altair from the wound of Alain's shoulder, staining the man's wrist in which he held the small blade, making the hilt slippery. "You think I hold some grudge against my cousin for fucking my cheating wife and killing that bastard child of her?" His grin only widened. "I was there, watching them and I loved the look on her face when I punished her for her trying to make me believe it was my seed which filled her womb. I bet your informant didn't tell you I slit her throat, did he?" And fuck, no that was new information for him and Altair tried to remember he would sought out the man and make him pay dearly for his mistake of not telling him everything. "Your little plan didn't work... I won't tell you a thing."

Altair shifted his weight underneath him, his shoulder rolling from where Alain's hand was pressed against it, sending a wave of pain up his arm and to his wounded shoulder. It was enough for the man to lose his focus and Altair grabbed his wrist, the dagger falling from his fingers and Altair connected his forehead with Alain's, sending him falling backwards and twisted his arm behind his back. He managed to get the upper hand again, straddling his hips and his hidden blade pierced the skin of his throat, entering deep. Everything was so fast that Alain could just stare at him with wide eyes, disbelieve written all over his face. The world turned gray, the fog swallowing Altair and Alain and made him forget everything around them. "It seems you forgot who you're speaking with", he muttered in a deep hoarse voice, breathing heavily.

Alain was dying.

It was only a question of time for how long it would take for him to bleed to death but Altair only had a few more minutes left until his heart would stop beating. "This is your chance to come off clear with all your sins. Tell me what I need to know and meet your god with a chaste soul."

Alain wheezed underneath him, blood slowly entering his lungs making him suffocate. "No god can save me", he whispered and Altair had to lean closer in order to understand him. It seemed his blade had nicked his vocal chords as well, making it difficult for the Frenchman to speak. "It's too late... we're almost there. Robert found the location of it. Soon he will hold Heaven in his hands." Alain's eyes rolled back and he closed them, taking a deep shuddering breath but he made a gargling noise and a stream of blood spilled over his lips and down his throat. He cracked his eyes open once more.

"You're speaking in riddles", Altair snarled angry at him. "What did he find and where? I will end your misery if you tell me."

But Alain only laughed at him, at least he tried as it was just a breath escaping his throat. "Robert's with JHWH..." His eyes rolled back once more and his breathing became more short and turned erratic.

"No...", Altair said slowly and shook his head. "JHWH is where I'm going to send you now" He looked down on him, one eyebrow arched. He brought his blade close to Alain's throat once more and pushed forward, his life ending within half a second. Altair pulled out a feather from one of his pouches, pulling it through the man's blood, the white turning red as the feather was dripping with it. He stood up, hovering over the corpse and as he looked down on him he knew what he had to do as they pieces of his words finally made sense.

UUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHhhhh

oh man have i told you i always liked your action scenes?? you describe them so well! UGH And i love your altair! You write him so good, really!

lksfvg;lrg the plot is thickening I GOT SO EXCITED TO SEE THE UPDATES!! I really enjoy your dialogue too, it's so real like I can hear altair say them in my head when I read.

i screamed/liveblog to my friends lkrfler they must be sick of me by now freaking out over these fics ahaha but it's so good how can I not??

I can't wait to see what happens next!!!

This wasn't love, this wasn't sex – he was fucking her, that's all. No more, no less. No emotions involved, he didn't care for her and he fucked her just like that using her body for one purpose and one purpose only, to satisfy his needs. He didn't aim for her pleasure, didn't care if she liked what he did. She was either a good actor or she really was enjoying his rough touches, the fingers wrapped around her neck when he pressed her face into the mattress as she was on her knees and he thrust into her almost violently. He didn't like watching their faces, never did. He couldn't stand it when he saw their eyes, couldn't stand it when they tried to kiss him. Kisses were for lovers, not for whores. She met his thrusts and pushed her hips backwards as he moved in and out of her, her moans filling the room while he hardly made a sound at all. Skin slapping against skin, wet bodies touching, nails raking over limbs, scratching, biting, searching.

In the end he didn't come, pulling out of her and kneeling for a few more moments behind her naked form, breathing heavily and running his fingers through sweat soaked hair. She turned around, her cheek still pressed against the mattress, eying him and her gaze almost burnt him. “What's wrong?”

He looked at her, his lips moving but no sound came. He got off the bed, reaching for his clothes and got dressed quickly. “What's wrong?”, she asked again, her voice rising with confusion and she sat up, pulling her knees underneath her body, wrapping the blanket around her body to hide from his sight. Altair would have almost scoffed. He looked at her, cold eyes burning into hers and he reached for the small pouch on his belt, placing a few coins on the small table right next to the door. It was enough money to pay for the whole night. She called after him but he didn't pay her any attention at all as he made his way through the brothel and out onto the streets of Paris.

Altair wiped his face, his hood up shielding him from curious eyes and turning him into a faceless shadow. He'd no idea why he went there, why he sought a woman's warm touch. Sex wasn't even that important to him, in all honesty it often rather bored him. It was a physical need which was necessary every now and then but nothing he truly enjoyed. Most of the times he tried to ignore it, knew no good would come of it ever since-

No. None of that. No thoughts about him. It was neither the right time nor the right place to think about it. He was on a mission, his master counting on him – he wouldn't disappoint Al Mualim, wouldn't let himself get distracted any further. It was bad enough he'd visited a brothel, in the end it only felt degrading.

Altair returned to the small room he currently stayed at, renting it for small money right above the small shop of a blacksmith. It was late the night and he would depart tomorrow morning and return to Masyaf to deliver the news.

When he opened the door Altair knew instantly something was off and he scanned the chamber, his eyes soon falling on a figure sitting on his bed. He felt for his throwing knives, about to pull one small dagger out and aiming for the person sitting there but it wasn't the blade that cut through the silence, but the figure's smooth velvet voice. “That's no way to greet old friends.” Altair still throw his knife and it hit the mattress right next to the man's thigh but he chuckled unimpressed.

“No, it's my way of greeting you”, Altair muttered and walked through the dark room, reaching for an lamp and lit it, the oil burning quickly His face was instantly illuminated by a soft glowing orange, the flame trembling and creating flickering shadows across the walls. The bed creaked when he moved, getting off and walking towards the young assassin, hand laying on Altair's shoulder to turn him around. “You lack some manners then”, he muttered, eyes roaming over his face and he cupped his jaw, his thumb brushing over Altair's scar. “I should teach you some”, he added as he leaned towards, closing the distance between them and consuming Altair's mouth with a kiss.

He punched him in the guts and the man groaned, stumbling backwards and rubbing his palm over his stomach. “You don't touch me like that”, Altair told him and his fingers got already busy to remove his chestplate. Another of his chuckles filled the room and he sat back on the bed, leaning heavily on his elbows as he watched Altair removing his belt and red sash, folding the latter neatly and placing it on top of the armor which now lay on the table. “No”, he said nonchalantly and waved his hand, “I just fuck you.”

“You missed me Saleh?” Altair stared at him, his robes gaping and revealing a flat stomach with a soft trail of hair leading from his navel further down and underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“I missed your mouth around my cock.”

“Can you even get it up old man?” Saleh looked at him, lips pressed tightly together. It wasn't like Altair said something which wasn't true. Saleh was old, could be his father actually, his hair already turning gray and looked just as silver as the moon's light. It was a sight he'd rather forget. Saleh snorted at him and rolled his head from one side to the other, the ordinary clothes of nothing but a man seeming strange on his body.

“How long has it been now boy? Three years? Four?”

“Five”, Altair said unimpressed, sitting down on the chair to remove his boots and he groaned when his feet were finally free as they hurt from the day. He leaned back and eyed Saleh skeptical. “So how come you are here?”, Altair asked, his whole body radiating distress. He didn't want him here, he didn't want to see Saleh's face, didn't want to waste his energy speaking with an outcast. Somebody who waited for Al Mualim's heart to turn soft again to welcome him back into the Order – they both knew no such thing would ever happen as Saleh was forced to live in exile with no chance to ever return. Still, he clung on to that hope and maybe that was his way of staying sane – so who was Altair to judge?

Saleh just smirked and lowered his head, eyes hidden from Altair's sight. “I count nine fingers. So you've finally achieved your blade. You father would be proud”, and Altair gritted his teeth, hating it with all his guts whenever he was talking about his father, bringing his ghost back from the dead to the living. “But it seems you still lack an assassin's ability when it comes to going unnoticed. There were rumors filling the lands, Altair, rumors about a white ghost leaving a trail of blood behind. I followed your trail and look who I found? The boy I turned into a man. I'd call it destiny wouldn't you agree?”

“I'd call it misfortune.”

Saleh sighed and placed one hand to his chest, falling onto the mattress with his back first and staring up the ceiling. “Uhg, I'm hurt boy, I'm deeply hurt.” He looked at him again, propping himself up using one of his elbows. “What is it with you? Normally you would have been already on your knees sucking my dick and yet you're still sitting there with too much clothes on. That needs to change.”

Altair just shook his head, swallowing every threat down which was about to leave his lips and roll over his tongue. “Just... go Saleh. Go wherever you came from. Whatever it is you're seeking I assure you it's not here”, he sighed and wiped his face with one hand, peering at the older man through his fingers. Saleh's eyes grew cold and distant and his face wrinkled up as he sat and looked at Altair. “Ah”, he said and licked across his lips, rubbing the back of his head, “you see I'm very disappointed.”

“Why is that?”

Saleh slowly turned to Altair and straightened his back, making it even more visible that he was at least two heads bigger than the young assassin. “After all I've done for you and after we finally meet each other again I thought I would get a warmer welcoming and not getting kicked out”, he stood up walking towards Altair. His muscles tensed and his fingers curled into a fist when he craned his neck to look up at Saleh in order to meet his eyes. If it was needed he would defend himself, if it was needed Altair was ready to kill, no matter if old friend or not. Saleh placed one hand onto the small table behind him, leaning down to Altair. “It seems you've forgotten why I'm here. It would have needed nothing more but a word and it'd be you in my position, cast out like a lousy dog. And why not? Because I made a promise to your father”, he whispered, foul breath crawling over his skin as the man leaned into him, his lips almost touching his ear.

“I'm not sixteen anymore”, he said but his voice sounded uneven and breathless, his heart beating wildly. He shouldn't feel like this and Altair felt disgusted with himself. “I'm not the boy I used to be, easy to manipulate and following your orders.”

“No you're not sixteen anymore”, and Altair could feel how his lips pulled into a grin against his ear. “But you still are the boy easy to manipulate. The only thing that changed is that it isn't me anymore fucking you but that Master of yours, fucking with your mind and playing you like a little puppet and you're sitting here, too arrogant and blinded by the Order's lies to see the truth.”

It was then he snapped, pushing Saleh away and sending the man stumbling backwards, standing up fast so the chair lost its balance and hit the ground. “It's time for you to leave”, he breathed through clenched teeth, eyes narrowed to small slits, chest heaving with unresolved anger.

“Indeed it is”, Saleh nodded as he rubbed his chin, looking Altair up and down. “It's truly a shame then, you've had all the potential but you decided to throw it all away. I thought you were your father's son but it seems you're nothing more but one of Al Mualim's sheep.” Saleh snorted and made his way towards the door, his hand already reaching for it. He stopped right next to Altair though, his fingers touching the handle but he didn't pull the door open yet. “Al Mualim caught me fucking you and I was the one sent away into exile, yet you were allowed to stay. Ever wondered why?”

“Out”, he snarled, staring at Saleh from the corner of his eye. The old man nodded. “I see”, Saleh said and smirked. “You do know then.”

He stepped out of the room and the door fell shut behind him and Altair stood there, watching his world burn with chaos.

Oh my god what is even happening I HAVE MORE QUESTIONS NOW...

I really do enjoy your take on Altair and I love your dialogue! It flows nicely uGH IM SO GLAD YOU UPDATED I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WOULD SOON.

Thank you!

What questions? XD

It's been two weeks now since he'd killed Alain and it was the third morning after his encounter with Saleh when Altair stood out in the open right in the middle of a busy street, Paris' citizens getting ready to greet a new day. He rubbed his chin and pulled the hood covering his head deep into his face, sinking back into the shadows, feeling more comfortable like this when he couldn't feel the eyes of those around him anymore. The sun had just risen and didn't manage yet to crawl up and over the houses, the shadows still large and air cold. His ship would leave in five days and he still had to ride all across France to get to Marseille. There was only one more thing to do...

He pushed people to their sides as he forced his way through the crowd, walking through dirt, shit and piss and needed to make a b-line in order to avoid getting hit by piss thrown out a window. The smell was unbelievable and he got once more reminded of why he'd never liked Paris. It was filthy, its citizens sick and there were rats everywhere. Altair just simply hated rats and one or two of his Brothers might even dare to say he was terrified of them but those would lose their tongue quickly if Altair was ever to witness to hear such thing. His boots and pants were covered by mud and something he didn't want to think about once he reached the market place. A rather large crowd had already gathered there, people cheering and screaming as the hangman was already up on the platform, ropes ready for their use. Altair made his way towards until he'd almost reached the first row. There were children held by their parents, sitting on their fathers shoulders or on their mothers hips, happy and eager to see a few men and women lose their lives today. Altair himself just stood there, a solid rock in the middle of a sea of madness, face hidden and eyes emotionless as he waited for the spectacle to begin. Guards were walking up the platform and the crowd started to move, people pushing forwards in large waves as their cheers and screams got louder.

Altair's fingers twitched when he saw several men and women lead onto the stage, cuffed and tied together. He counted nine of them, four women, five men and they all stopped underneath the ropes waiting for the hangman to put them around their necks, their faces dirty and some of them had tracks of tears on their cheeks, others had been clearly tortured. Their crimes were read to the cheering people, the noose pulled tight. He did no longer hear the people around him, did no longer see the laughing children. The world stopped turning while he focused completely on his target, his finger activating the mechanism of his hidden blade. He heard his pulse beating loudly inside his ears, his blood rushing through his veins and carrying adrenaline. Colors faded into gray and Altair stepped towards, pushing men and women aside but he didn't hear their insults, didn't feel their hands on his back as they shoved him.

He was the one, Altair's eyes set on him and for the first time ever since he'd killed his first target, his hand was shaking. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes, the hangman pulling the trigger and the trapdoors opened underneath the prisoners feet, their bodies falling and the ropes were pulled taut. Altair leaned forward, his hand moving, finger twitching again and his blade retract, hidden underneath the leather once more as he stood there, watching them struggle. Only two have been lucky enough to die through their fall. The other ones were slowly suffocating. Altair watched the man struggling, his face turning red then blue and his legs were kicking empty air. He was the one and he didn't feel pity at all, he didn't feel anything and yet he trembled like a leaf in the wind and only when none of the prisoners were moving anymore, he turned away swallowed by the crowd and forgotten in the shadows.

“Who was he?” Lucy looked up at Vidic, sitting next to the man's lifeless body trapped inside the Animus.

“There's a memory missing”, the man muttered and Lucy turned to watch Altair, feeling pity as she saw him like that, his wrists raw since they'd been strapped to the machine for so long now. Her eyes fell back on the old man and all she saw was the side of his face, the screen of his computer reflecting in his glasses as his fingers flew across the keyboard. She wondered if there'd be one to stop him one day. She wondered what had happened to the woman send by the Order to spy on Templars only to become one of them. She wondered what had happened to herself.

“How can there be one missing?” She slowly stood up and her fingers brushed over Altair's as she walked pass him and stopped next to Vidic. “That's not possible.”

“There's one missing”, Vidic growled again and he leaned closer over his screen. “Why would he go there? What does this man have to do with the artifact?”

“Maybe nothing at all”, Lucy told him quietly and she looked back over her shoulder, watching Altair still. It was strange to think that he was a monster. He didn't seem human at all when he was on missions, didn't seem human at all when he took his targets lives and there were moments where she thought he enjoyed killing. Moments like the one she just witnessed. She had been almost able to feel his satisfaction as he watched the man fighting for his life, had almost been able to feel his blood thirst being stilled. “Maybe it's about something which comes after the execution. Why don't we see?” Lucy sat back on her chair and rolled over to Altair's side once more. “He knows where it is, Alain told him that much.”

Now Vidic turned his head and Lucy saw her own reflection in his glasses. “Why's that? If I recall correctly Alain hardly told him anything.”

“He knows. Alain told him enough for Altair to put the pieces together. He knows where it is, he's going back to Masyaf. Why else would he do that if he didn't know?”

Vidic opened his mouth for a reply but he kept silent when there was a small groan and the rustle of moving fabric filling the room. “Is he... waking up?”, Vidic pondered and his eyes narrowed at Lucy, lips pressed to a thin white line, face dark. “How can he wake up?”

Lucy quickly made her way towards Vidic's screen, her eyes watching the numbers running across it. “He's not... not really”, she said and her voice sounded pressed, “he's still inside the memory but”, and she looked over her shoulder once more, her eyes scanning Altair's frame, “but it looks like his body is waking up. Shit. This is exactly what I tried you to warn about”, she hissed.

Vidic followed her, stopping by her side. “What does this mean?”

Lucy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Vidic liked to talk about the Animus as if it was his baby, but he knew surprisingly less about it. “It means”, Lucy forced out between clenched teeth, “he's going to wake up and believe he's still in medieval France.”

“Like the Bleeding Effect?”

“Not effect. He's Bleeding”, Lucy explained. “I told you his old personality is going to get erased if you wanna go through with this. We're soon going to have a pretty pissed 12th century assassin.”

“Ah.” Vidic didn't seem as stressed as Lucy. “Well I expected that. Drug him, keep him unconscious and keep him in the Animus. We don't need him anymore after we're done.”

Lucy's head snapped around and she stared at Vidic. “You want to kill him?” She was outraged. Vidic was an idiot. Killing Altair was like throwing the artifact into the ocean. He was precious. He was important, he was like the 8th wonder of the world. Did Vidic not know that? “He's not like the previous subjects, Sir. He's not replaceable. He actually is Altair.”

“I know pretty well who he is Ms. Stillman, thank you very much”, and now his voice grew cold again and it reminded Lucy once more of what he was capable of, what she had witnessed him doing. It made her blood grew cold. Vidic smiled at her and it made her want to rip off his face. “We still have the other one, don't we?”

Lucy blinked, her rage ebbing away like the tide. “But- we can't work with him”, she stuttered.

Vidic sighed. “No but we can still use him”, and he talked about them as if they were nothing but cattle. He pursed his lips and they broke into a smile just a second later. “You know...”, he said and his voice was as soft as if he was speaking to a small child. “Bring him down her. Let Altair wake up. Let him see we have him.” He paused for a moment and then turned towards Lucy fully. “This was the plan all along wasn't it?”

She took a deep breath of air, her head hanging low between her shoulders with hair falling into her eyes.“There's only one thing”, she murmured, meeting Vidic's eyes and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing between him and Altair. “How do you control a monster?”

He had no idea where he was. He had no idea what time it was. The room was dark and cold and Malik was cuffed to a chair, his wrists raw by now and his back ached terrible while his legs hurt from cramps. He could hardly remember anything, he just kept falling in and out of unconsciousness. When the door opened he startled, eyes narrowed as light fell into the small room, blinding him. Feet moved over the ground and Malik heard the rattling of metal, the sound of guns being carried.

“Up you go”, came the voice and tears were running down his cheeks, the light hurting his eyes since he hadn't seen it for so long now and his hands became loose, fingers curling around his shoulder and pulling him upwards. “He wants to see you now”, they whispered into his ear and before he was even able to move his hands, they were pulled behind his back once more and Malik was tied up again. It wasn't like as if he couldn't fight – he could. But right now he was too confused as if he could act and maybe it was because he hasn't been active for the last five years, maybe he'd gotten lazy. He didn't know what it was that held him back and made them follow. Maybe curiosity. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on, he just wanted to make it out of this with no harm. His vision returned slowly, two guards walking by his sides, framing him and pushing him down a long, barely lit hall. The walls were gray, the light flickering and shining down on him from old fluorescent tubes. Malik watched the guards from the corner of his eyes and there seemed something odd about them, something off as if the picture wasn't right. The back of his head was tingling, the hair on his arms standing to end and Malik felt cold, the sick feeling of something bad about to happen engulfing him like thick, tough honey, sticking on to him and not letting go.

They reached an elevator and the doors opened, Malik and both guards stepping inside. He couldn't tell if they were going up or down, the elevator hardly making a sound at all and he could barely feel it moving. It took a few more turns, more halls they were walking down until they finally reached their destination and Malik was brought into a rather large room, empty expect for a desk with a computer on it and something that looked like a... solarium cabin? Seriously?

They stopped a few feet short of a man and a woman, the both of them wearing white coats. She wore her hair in a high bun and he thought it made her look older than she probably was. She eyed him uncertain and he could tell she was fucking nervous while the man just stood there, arms crossed behind his back wearing a huge -probably faked- smile, gray hair and glasses riding low his nose. The guards didn't leave but stood slightly behind him, their hands on their guns and Malik gulped audibly. Only now did he see that there was a second man laying and it was-

Him.

“Altair”, Malik whispered, his lips barely moving but the man heard him, his smile even widening. “Mr. al-Sayf”, he greeted him, arms spread to each side of his body in a welcoming gesture. The woman -and Malik could barely call her that because she looked like a frightened teenager at the moment- picked up a folder, skipping through it and pretending to read the papers inside.

“I'm Dr. Vidic.”

Malik's head snapped up and his eyes were set onto him. He recognized that voice. “It's you”, he muttered, his voice growing deeper, fingers curling into a tight fist and he gritted his teeth. “It's you”, he snarled again, wanting to take a step forwards but one of the guards simply put his hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Malik didn't try to go further as the man stroke with his thumb over his gun.

“Of course it's me”, Vidic smiled and he beckoned Malik forwards. “Come on... don't be shy. I trust you to not doing anything stupid, yes?” No he wouldn't – Malik knew though he was good, he was really good when it came to fighting, hell, he'd been on two tours to Iraq, he knew how to fight! But he also knew when it was better to keep low and right now it seemed to be the better choice to just do what he were told.

“No I won't”, he said and held his chin up high, his back straightening while he put his arms behind his back. Just show these fuckers he wasn't intimated by them.

“Good, good”, Vidic nodded. He gestured behind him, pointing at the strange looking table with the man trapped inside. “You remember him then, I take it? I think I just heard you say his name...” Malik followed his gesture, his eyes roaming over the body and his gaze stopped at his hands. He counted ten fingers and that didn't seem to be right.

“I- I think”, he muttered softly and maybe it was wrong even answering him but Malik didn't understand anything of this and he just wanted answers – maybe the best way to get them was to pretend. “His name”, Malik looked up at Vidic, “his name is Altair.”

Vidic's smile grew cruel and the woman stood up behind him, eying Malik over the Doctor's shoulder. She stepped closer still, leaning towards his ear. “He's going to wake soon”, she whispered and yet Malik could understand her words very well. “He's going to think he's still in France.”

Vidic nodded and while she seemed to be at the brink of a meltdown, he wasn't worried at all. “Good”, he nodded. “Let me show you how to control a monster, Ms. Stillman. Mr. al-Sayf?” Vidic rose his chin and his eyes bore into Malik's. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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