Assassins in the Attic

The soft pitter-patter and gentle splash was alluring and peaceful. A gentle softness, a haze, or fog the coated the Tuscan country side in such mystery. The city was silent; citizens had long since run inside their homes to escape the rains. These rains had been predicted for some time, as they happened every year at near the same time. So it truly was no surprise.

Those unlucky enough to be caught in the rain were those that had been hired to carry swords and to bully the populace. And it was no wonder such fearful tales of ghosts, white as snow and stained red by their endeavors had swept through city and country alike, and stole the breath from those that took it from others. These ghosts had been haunting the small Tuscan city. With it's high towers becoming harder to guard, as those that climbed them often never came down quite the same way, and it's streets filled with liberated civilians, and the remainder of whatever force that was brave enough to stay.

The ghosts, who liked the rain and fog and night to disguise their bodies so as they might move as if they truly were nothing but phantoms, searched the streets. Men died, and those who saw more often turned the blind eye and made for the nearest city gate rather than engage what could hardly be caught.

The fog bank that rolled in had long passed and the sky was, for but a moment clear. Somewhere down the street, a young man peered from around the corner, as one singular ghost; no, Assassin; rose from the ground, from the body of another victim. The white hood that masked all turned in his direction, the yawning black whole where his face should have been was enough to make the young man wish to flee. He stood from his crouched position, keeping his eyes on the advancing ghost, only turning to look in front of him when he was several paces forward and near knocked into another ghost.

This one, also wearing the hood as white as snow, he could see the face of, which was only truly in touching distance. The soft porcelain features of a woman met him. Soft full lips, curled into a demonic smile, but free of paint. And her eyes, sharp and bright in the midnight darkness, gleaming with excitement from her hunt. Like a wolf, she pounced and the unfortunate young guard was taken from this life.

"Aleca…" The male was her senior, in both age and rank. He had followed the Master for longer, and knew many more tricks than she did. Where she had barley just been allowed to leave Roma, and her Master, he had been traveling all over Europe since the very beginning. She closed the guard's eyes, only slightly guilty for how young he had been, but quickly quelled it. This was not the time for discomfort. She was being trusted to watch her senior's back as he carried out his mission.

"Where to now, teacher?"

The other Assassin turned to look around at the surrounding buildings. He then set off into an easy jog, his body falling easily into the motions of the hunt. He stopped and peered around every corner, counted guards down every street, and threw smoke bombs to confuse them. Several streets over from where they originally met with the first batch of targets, they found themselves once again in the shadow of a fog bank. The rain would resume soon, and the biting cold of the night would worsen. They would need to hurry, they could no longer delay this mission with stealth.

"Take the rooftops."

Elsewhere in the small city, a small portly man sat by his fire, sipping at an interesting drink he had discovered only a few days prior. It was rather bitter, but had a taste that was simply irresistible. The house had been quiet for a time, his children had long since gone to bed, and his wife had fallen into a dead sleep in the chair across the hearth. He examined her beautiful face from he sat in the dim, flickering orange light. He could not help the small, loving smile that graced his lips upon seeing her sleep so peacefully.

He readjusted the cup in his hands, the porcelain clinking softly against the silver band around his finger. Reminded of it now, he frowned. He glanced at the cross carved into the top and reminded himself darkly that he would have to tread lightly from now on.

The rumors of the ghost, which he knew better by now that they certainly were not ghosts, had him jumpy and anxious. He stayed up all night, and vowed to do so until they left. He knew the Assassin could strike him at anytime, but some childish notion kept him up all night and sleeping through the day.

All so suddenly, there was a great thunderous crash that shook the house to it's foundation. The portly man jumped from his seat, dropping the mug and spilling it's dark liquid all over the red Persian rug. His wife jumped as well with a sharp cry. She looked around, and above her, eyeing the ceiling with distrust.

Her husband merely laughed, albeit shakily, and chastised her, as well as himself silently, that it was only thunder. This merely had her looking at him questioningly. "Are you sure? It sounded as if it were in the attic."

"No, no. Nothing, ti amo, I will prove to you." In truth, he was checking for himself, because what if it had been something else? A flash from outside the glass windows and another thunderous crash, although this one was not nearly as house shaking as the first.

He moved to the long hallway near the kitchen, cursing under his breath about the cold once he had left the warm radius by the hearth. His wife followed obediently from a distance, watching with some fear as her husband moved to open the hatch above his head.

It swung open, the square black hole it left far from inviting. He looked back at her for reassurance before standing on his tiptoes to look inside the attic. He rotated his body to be able to look in all directions, but stopped before he made a full turn. There, where it seemed the shadows were near thickest, only illuminated by the snaking light from the hearth was a mass of white. Or rather, more accurately, a single gleaming eye that watched from under the peaked Assassin hood.

There was a gasp, a rustle of movement, a dull thud and the chinck of metal, then an ear piercing scream that haunted the city, and echoed into the fog laden night.

Afterward: Not an official project so updates for this will be sporadic. But I do intend to make more and post them here. Some will be recruits by themselves, and others with Ezio, but these are based on the Assassin recruits mostly. The plan is do one that fits titles with each letter in the alphabet. (e.g.: Help for Hire, Party for the Pious) I'll take requests on letters or characters (which include multiplayer/ templar agents/ really anybody in the game). I hope you enjoy, please help me imrove my writing by leaving me feed back. :)