A mid-day sun shone down upon the crowded streets of New York, which filled his eyes and ears. The large sidewalks contained many people, all going about their business. One man need not ask another where he is going, what he is doing. He was among these people; among his shroud. A young man, dressed in a white-grey hoodie and jeans didn’t stand out from the crowd; exactly what he wanted. The hood covered his hair and face, concealing his identity, for when the time came to run. So they wouldn’t find him, especially after he found them. As he lightly pushed his way through the crowd, he scanned what everyone around him looked like; he looked for any peculiarities in behaviour, in anyone at all, for his target. A Templar Elite, a warrior of mass power, had been spotted in the area, and he was deployed to…erase him.
The people disguised his visage; their sound disguised his footsteps: a perfectly camouflaged tiger in waiting; a wolf in sheep’s clothing, aiming not for a sheep, but for the shepherd, instead. The man took a breath, his target drew near; his gut told him. A hidden blade, a small blade attached to a solid metal bracer, was primed and ready to draw the blood of his prey.
To the man’s shock and dismay, his target now lay out of his reach. One man who had passed by was carrying a briefcase with Abstergo’s insignia on it. The crowd died out, and quickly. Not wanting to lose them as cover, the man went with, his enemy now in plain sight. The man continued walking out into Times Square, and towards a bench. In addition to Abstergo, a powerful Drug Company, the Templar Order had many outlets in the Mafia. They had men, feared men, powerful men, in every outlet of power they could find, so as to finish their enemies. To finish the Assassins, the young man’s reason for life, and end their resistance to the Templar’s reign of terror.
Two men approached the Templar, who stood. More of his features could now be made out by his Assassin; a rough chin, sunglasses, a black suit…too easy to be seen walking by a person like that. At least, too easy if the young Assassin stopped long enough to kill him. This would be difficult.
The Assassin slipped out of the crowd, and into an alleyway. People gave him odd looks, but kept walking. This was New York, after all, and the Assassin had to rely on them forgetting as soon as they took their eyes off of him.
Once no one else was watching, the Assassin ran towards the ladder, gaining momentum. He climbed the cold, metallic ladder with haste; every moment his prey was out of sight was a moment that he could escape, and he would have to find him again. He made his way to the top of the roof, and began running in the direction of Times Square, the wind almost blowing his hood off.
Making it to the edge of the building, the Assassin looked out onto Times Square. He smirked; the man now consorting with the others in black suits. Taking out a camera, he zoomed in to try to see the opened briefcase that the three men were crowding around. He tried in vain, however, and instead took photos of the people he was dealing with. Possibly other Templars; they were everywhere in New York; from the slums to the Government.
One of them was wearing a baseball cap, and dressed in a similar black suit. Quite possibly trying to blend in by being in as much contrast as possible with the crowd, he wore sunglasses which covered his eyes, but his skin was still very much visible. The other had the simple “men in black” themed attire, his head shaved bald, and his sunglasses held securely by the wrinkles around his eyes.
The techs back at headquarters would find these photos rather interesting, but the Assassin could not return until he had spilt the blood of Neil D’Ali. Cracking his neck, the Assassin looked around for anything to distract everyone, even the crowd he held in such high regard to the success of his mission. Seeing a neon sign, he grinned mischievously. Perfect.
Grabbing a knife from his belt, hidden by his hoodie, he aimed for the neon sign, which advertised beer with bright colors of blue and white, and the beer itself being a bright shade of brown. He took aim, closing an eye and imagining crosshairs in his vision; this always helped him hit his targets just that little bit better that made the mission successful. He thrust the knife at high speed into the neon sign, penetrating it, and causing a spark shower. The confusion had already started as the Assassin descended the side of the building quickly, grabbing various railings and faults in the wall, attempting to not draw attention. He landed on the ground, rolling to break his landing. He made his way back into the crowd, and started darting through the confused masses as the police arrived.
The Assassin, while walking quickly through the crowd, spotted an armed pedestrian. He quickly thought through his plan; was the neon sign enough of a distraction? Changing direction, the Assassin walked by the pedestrian, and pickpocketed his gun after shoving into him.
“Hey, buddy! Whaddaya think yer doin’?” asked the pedestrian, putting his fists up in defense, obviously too drunk to reach for his gun, of which was no longer there anyway. The Assassin hid the pistol in his pocket, and dodged a poorly aimed punch, grabbing the fist and elbowing him in the gut. Falling to his knees, the man begged for forgiveness, stood and limped away.
The Assassin now had a pistol, but it was a one-time use deal, it would shatter his cover. The pistol clutched tightly in his hand, he had to make the chaos work for him. Aiming above someone’s shoulder, he fired, placing the gun in their pocket and backing away with the crowd quickly, shoving behind a few others so he wouldn’t be detected immediately.
“What the hell was that?!” the person cried, feeling the gun fall out of his pocket. The police surrounded him, and handcuffed him for disturbing the peace. In the added commotion, Neil obviously started to suspect an Assassin somewhere nearby. He motioned for his guards to be on the lookout. This made the Assassin’s job a little harder, but after the assassination has been fulfilled, all he needed to do was escape. The guards pulled out pistols, and had them aimed at the crowd; the difficulty was finding a blind spot.
Making his way silently through the crowd, the Assassin soon was within striking distance. The bodyguards had separated, both beating harmless civilians, whom they thought was him. His chance was now; the blind spot had been virtually anywhere, the target holding a pistol out with both hands, ready to fire at anything. He breathed deeply, readying his hidden blade. Three…two…one…
The Assassin leaped, the crowd noticing nothing yet. Neil had just glanced when he screamed in fear, Death cloaked in white on his doorstep. He brought his weight down on the poor, lousily defended Templar, who fired three shots in surprise, wounding some of the crowd, and alerting the Templar guards. He smirked as his blade pierced Neil’s throat, giving them just enough time for him to speak his final words of remorse, as was Assassin custom. He pulled the blade out, ready to hear what the Templar had to say.
“Pray to whatever God you have,” the Assassin said, smugly.
“You…Assassins…will never…prevent…” Neil said, beginning to
hyperventilate. “You won’t stop the change…that this world must go through…”
“Must go through?” the Assassin said, although he already guessed the Templar’s answer.
“Yes…must…the people need a voice of control…they want it, and we will give it to them…” Neil gasped, now coughing. He was wasting his breath at an incredible rate. He would be dead soon.
“Rest in peace, friend,” the Assassin said, taking a picture of the dead man. He stood up, watching the blood pour out and kill him, “and may you find that order you sought so much in Heaven.” He stood, looking around. The people all froze while he did that; simply amazing. The police made their move now, flashing their badges and shouting familiar phrases such as "Halt!", as well as the other Templars loading new clips into their pistols and running to a white car. Time to run, thought the Assassin, ducking under an attack from his right, then vaulting over the same, confused foe.
He began running, as fast as he possibly could. Gunshots could be heard, but the Assassin kept running. Not a single person saw his face, one Creed followed. No innocents died. Another Creed followed, albeit the some people were injured. And finally, the Assassin Order had been preserved; all three Creeds had been followed almost perfectly. Now, the Assassin need only escape, an easier task than one might think.
The police now followed via vehicles. A megaphone using officer called out “Halt, in the name of the law!” Fool. He had no clue, not even a slight thought, that what the Assassin had just done was to uphold the law, and preserve justice in a justiceless world.
The Assassin climbed over a wall, using his momentum to keep him going at a constant speed. He now climbed a ladder behind the wall, the police firing warning shots. He sighed, either he would die or wouldn’t…he preferred wouldn’t, but even if he did, the job was done.
Climbing to the roof of the building, he thought the police would be calling in a helicopter shortly. He stopped, and took a breath. With all his training, he hadn’t even lost his breath. Pulling out his cellphone, he called back to headquarters, while walking inside the building from the roof outlet.
It rang for a few moments, then the familiar voice of Anna replied. “Derek!”
“Relax, I just need a pick up. The coordinates are 001 and 000.” Derek replied, calmly.
“Right. Not very far from the target’s coordinates?” she asked, peppiness in her voice.
“Shut up, the job is done.” Derek replied, holding the cellphone between his shoulder and his chin, in an awkward attempt to change out of his Assassin outfit. “Hangon a sec…” he said, putting the cellphone down and removing his jacket. He would wear it as a belt, the pants under his jeans were just comfortable, casual ones. His blonde hair and his blue eyes matched perfectly with his tie-dye shirt in proclaiming, “Dude, what just happened?” to the world.
Quickly making his way to the lobby of the building, (which turned out to be a hotel) Derek saw the car waiting for him; a silver Mustang with a brunette-haired woman wearing sunglasses riding front seat. Sighing, he left the building and stepped into the car.
“Long day?” Anna asked, smirking.
“Wouldn’t be as long if the Templars weren’t wising up to us. There were three Templar Elites today; I could only erase one, but I have photos of the other two.” Derek explained.
“Three? They really are getting better at this.” Anna remarked, smiling.
“Too bad we can’t crank out Assassins as quickly as they can Templars; we’ll never win at this rate.” Derek sighed.
“Don’t forget Desmond Miles.” Anna said, focusing on the road.
“What good is he gonna do us? Stupid idiot fingerprinted himself...and was caught by those bastards at Abstergo.” Derek said.
“We are preparing to free him, we just need time.”
“Time is something we are coming close to no longer having. At least Lucy is there.” Derek said. “I just hope Desmond can live up to Altair’s name.”
“All we can do is all we have been doing, and not giving up. Don’t worry; we’ll stop them.” Anna said, placing her arm on Derek’s. “Trust me.”
“Whatever.” Derek replied emotionlessly. The car drove along the streets; they had escaped pursuit.
((All rights belong to Ubisoft, Assassins Creed developed by multicultural team of various faiths and beliefs. Enjoy! ))
