A/N: Oh noes! Not another Mary-Sue parody! But yes, considering that one out of every two fanfics in the Assassin's Creed fandom are Mary-Sues, I was tempted to write this. And I did, because I have no will power. Yeees...So um, enjoy! And review!
Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed does not belong to me. It never will, either.
The assassin crouched silently on the roof of the building. A slight breeze rustled his white clothes and the white hood that hid his face from the world. The assassin did not stir. He was well-versed of his role in this game of cat and mouse. He merely waited for the opportune moment.
His target moved through the crowd, but Altaïr could not get a clear shot, not without risking an innocent person getting in the way. He could not risk breaking the creed, not when he could simply be patient and…
There was a flash of bright light. Altaïr slowly allowed his hand to drop from his eyes, opening them cautiously. There, in the middle of the courtyard, stood a girl. She wore strange clothes and was very beautiful, in an exotic way. She had long, flowing reddish-goldish-silver hair and dark blue-purple eyes that shone with the moon.
Altaïr frowned. How her eyes sparkled with the moon when it was, in fact, daytime confounded the assassin. Then again, he wasn't even sure how he could see her eyes from his distance. The assassin could have sworn that she glittered, standing there amongst the crowd, blinking in a confused but oh-so-adorable way.
Altaïr furrowed his brow. Had that thought really come from his mind? The assassin was becoming more bewildered by the second, a feeling he hated. And somehow, instinctively, he knew it was that girl's fault.
The white-clothed man shook his head slightly. It didn't matter. He had a job to do. The assassin was scanning the crowd, looking for his lost target, when it happened.
Suddenly, the peaceful crowd became angry and yelling, guards suddenly were running and shouting, and at the center of it all, there was that girl.
Altaïr was perplexed. Everything had been perfectly calm only half a moment ago, and now everyone was attempting to capture that girl. He had never seen anything like this happen before. But Altaïr knew his duty and, reluctant as he might be, had to rescue her. At least then it might calm enough for him to find his target again.
He knew he was being strangely optimistic, for nothing good could come of this. He also knew that he was out of time.
The assassin turned and, without a single pause of hesitation, jumped off the edge of the tower. He dove through the air gracefully, turning just in time to hit the haystack below with the ease of long practice. Leap of faith accomplished, Altaïr weaved swiftly through the crowd.
Altaïr drew his sword, running one of the guards surrounding the girl through. Before the man had even registered that his death had come upon him, Altaïr had withdrawn his blade and lunged forward, parrying another guard's sword in the same fluid movement.
He grabbed the girl, slinging her over his shoulder and trying to make sense of the almost expectant look she had worn when he had appeared.
It didn't matter. Only one thought stood out now in Altaïr's mind; he had to get out of there, away from the guards pressing in on him. Holding the girl firmly over one shoulder with one hand, Altaïr pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, showing his sword when force alone would not work.
Finally, he was free from the press of bodies. Seeing an escape route, marking it out in his mind's eye, Altaïr sprinted to the first building he could. Heights, he had learned, were the safest escape paths. Others hesitated where he moved freely, and his agility gave him a clear advantage.
Altaïr swiftly scaled the wall before him. Though climbing one-handed with a person over one's shoulder would have proven to be impossible for any average person, it was nothing Altaïr had not done before. He expertly compensated for the girl's extra weight and soon reached the top.
Not pausing to take a breath—nor needing to, for that matter—Altaïr darted across the room, leaping easily to the next building. He could hear the soldiers panting as they climbed onto the roof.
And so the chase began.
However, it was soon apparent to both Altaïr and the soldiers that there was no way they would catch up to him. When he had suitably avoided capture and/or death, Altaïr stopped, laying down his burden.
The girl immediately jumped up, silver-green eyes sparkling. Altaïr could have sworn that they had been a purple color earlier.
"That was amazing, Altaïr! I knew you could escape those nasty soldiers!"
Altaïr started. She spoke quickly, almost too fast for him to decipher what she had said, but there was one thing he had heard clearly: his name.
Altaïr prepared one of his many hidden daggers, shifting to lunge forward, to pin her to the ground and demand answers. Suddenly, there she was, right in front of him, nearly touching him. Disoriented, Altaïr stepped back. How had she-
"Oh, you're hurt! Let me fix it!"
Altaïr looked to the arm she was examining. Indeed, there was a thin cut, red, but already browning against the white of his uniform. He had probably received it during the short skirmish to rescue her, Altaïr thought absently.
Still, it was barely a scratch, and certainly did require any treatment. Especially from her. The girl reached forward, her fingers brushing his arm…
Altaïr quickly slid out his hidden dagger and rammed it into her throat. The girl dropped like a log, lying unmoving on the roof of the building. Altaïr inspected her as he carefully cleaned his dagger. He had quite probably just broken the creed, killing an innocent.
Then again…Somehow, Altaïr doubted Al Mualim would mind too much.
As Altaïr lithely leapt to another building, navigating the maze that was Jerusalem, he smirked. Besides, he doubted she was truly innocent anyway.
A/N: Was it funny? Review and let me know...Because I am hopeless when it comes to deciding if my writing is any good or not. Thanks for reading!