I do not own or take credit for Assassin's Creed.

Rated M for mature.

Male relationships. Violence. Language. You ware warned.

Crappy story line. Crappy everything. Enjoy. Or not.

"What shall we do with it?" Malik, the one-armed friend of Altair, master of assassin's, had asked.

Altair looked down towards his shoulder, where Malik had placed his hand, "Destroy it?" he replied softly.

Two other men, who had been watching the two friends intently, didn't have much to say. They stood just beside Al Mualim's body, and just diagonal from the old man, which seemed at first to be a 'father' figure of Altair, was the Piece of Eden. An evil creation itself. It was glowing brightly, and it seemed to be showing a map of many locations, Altair could only ask himself how many more of these Pieces of Eden there could be, and he really didn't want to know.

Altair moved forward, feeling Malik's hand fall from his shoulder, he approached it, "Be careful, Altair," he warned his friend, "I wouldn't touch it just yet,"

Though the assassin hadn't bothered to listen, and he crouched down and slowly let his hand reach out to the apple. When his finger's scraped against it, and his hand got it's full grip around the circular, apple-shapes device, he seethed out in pain suddenly, feeling an amount of great heat burning through his hands. He bared through it, taking a few deep breaths, feeling heavy, dizzy, and becoming sick. He then shut his eyes, feeling a great power over coming. The world around him began to spin, he could hear the voices of Malik and the other two assassin's who had helped them on their journey to stop Al Mualim. The scenery around him was cracking, with little glares of light seeping through, and within an instant, everything was quiet, everything was gone.

His mind wasn't thinking of anything but the brutle pain shooting from his legs through his spine. He didn't want to move of course, but with the feeling approaching his throat, his only reaction was to slip over onto his hands and gag hoarsely. The most that came from his mouth might have been a lot of spit and a little bit of stomach fluids, which didn't look too great up close like he had been. He gripped his stomach, clutching his robes, his other arm fell to his elbow and his hand clutches the hood, which was draped over his head. He grunted a bit more, until he pulled back, used his sleeves to wipe over his mouth and to hit down, looking around him curiously. There was grass under him, which was damp. The sky was a purple color, maybe a bit darker, with a lot of stars in the sky, more than he has ever possibly seen.

Altair! Altair!

"Malik," he thought to himself quickly, and threw his head in any direction it could be thrown to, but he saw nothing. He didn't even know where he could be, it wasn't anywhere that he was familiar with, and he felt himself begin to panic, the grass was green, greener than what he was used too, and no matter how far his vision would go, he saw no desert like area. The only thing he saw as any hope of getting somewhere, had been the huge walls, the looked a lot like the perimeter of a small city, a really small city. Altair stood, wiping his mouth once more, swallowing with a not so pleasant look on his face, and dashed for the entrance of the city, where he saw a stable or two of horses, and strangely dressed men. When he entered, he was shocked. The buildings weren't all that big, but they were different, in some way or another. There was street lights, or candle lit orbs that allowed you to see the street clearly, which had been finely cut brick, something he wasn't used too.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," Altair quickly grabbed the arm of a woman, who was wearing a fairly beautiful dress, also something he wasn't used too. Most of the women he had been around wore mere robes, but nothing this detailed and colorful. The woman turned, feeling some what confused, and then seemed to smile.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me where I am, if it isn't too much trouble?" His voice was straight forward, deep, and not that pleasant to the woman's ears.

She blinked once or twice, "You don't know?" a bit of a pause, until she notice that aggravation approaching Altair when he wasn't answered, "Oh. Well, we're Monteriggioni. If you wish to speak with someone, Mario Auditore would be the best to help you sir,"

"Great thanks. Peace be with you," Altair then shoved the woman roughly to the side which made her gasp and curse at the man. When he was a few few away from her, he then stopped, Where the hell can I find this Mario man? He should have asked the woman where he had lived, but he figured since this place was the smallest of places he's ever been too, that it would probably be that big center mansion type house. The windows were shining with light, and the moon had the place glowing. It didn't impress the assassin, but it was enough for him to put the pieces together and wander up to the house, along the many of stairs until he reached the front door.

He brought his hands up, debating on if he should knock or not, but in the end, he knocked. He seethed, when he pulled his right hand into a fist to do so. He quickly released the pressure and pulled his hand to his face. Burns. He had burns from the apple, which he just remembered, after momentarily forgetting, once again. He then clenched his other hand and knocked on the large doors, he felt foolish, for doing such a thing. After all, Altair didn't knock on doors, he usually didn't go inside buildings.

"Who are you?" a voice had asked from behind him. It was a woman, who looked rather young. She was holding a crate of what looked like fruits.

Altair found this as his way to get answers, she obviously lived her, "I'm looking for Mario, do you know him?"

"I know my uncle, yes. Do you mind telling me what someone like you would want with him?" she then asked. Altair noticed that her voice was quiet, and that she didn't seem like the person to talk much, but he let it slide, and since this woman just admitted that the man named Mario was her uncle, he found his ticket inside the house, without needing to knock anymore, feeling awkward. Not that he felt awkward or anything.

"Does that really matter? Take me to him." Altair, was stuck in the middle east still, people didn't shake under fear at a dominant demand, people in this time would snap something back, they didn't go for the whole 'Respect Me Bitch' tone in most men voices, so of course, the woman was going to glare in silence until Altair got the picture that he wasn't going to get anyway where with his tone of voice. Of course, Altair would never understand that, which would possess him to grab the woman, making her drop her crate, fruit rolling across the brick, and shove her towards the door, demanding she's open it.

she didn't speak, or even crack a gasp, squeak, or a mutter. She just stood there, in front of the door, frozen. And she looked pretty sure of her choice in not letting the man inside her currently living area, not when he appears to be everything but friendly, "Did you not hear me? I asked you to open the door," he growled out close to her ear, only making her try to pull her gripped arm away from the assassin, but he wasn't allowing that.

"Let go of my sister,"

Altair stiffened, hearing the male voice from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, though his hood hid his view of the man, "What if I were to say no? Then what would you do?"

"Unless you're asking for a death wish, then you'd let go of her, and whatever you needed from her, you can kindly ask me, instead of treating a woman in such a disgusting manner like you had just done," Altair released the man's sister, and turned fully, his robes flowing with him, his hands gripped, even if the burns on his hand sent a tingling pain through his arm. Altair narrowed his eyes, seeing the young man in front of him.

"Who are you?" asked Altair.

The man scoffed under the moonlight, a hood also covering his face, wearing similar robes to Altair, only, his were a bit more updated and colorful, "You come to my home, expecting people to give you answers? That's not how we do things here, tell me, where are you from?"

"I descend from Masyaf?"

Ezio raised an eyebrow, "And you are, exactly?"

"Altair, Master of Assassin's."

Ezio, within a flash, was holding one of his hidden blades to Altair's neck, "Liar. Who are you?"

"Is this a joke? Why would I lie about who I am?"

"Altair, who? WHO?" Ezio demanded, his accent heavy.

"Altair Ibn-La'Ahad," stated calmly, but surely withdrawing his hidden blade, pressing it towards the Italian man's neck.

"I'm afraid a man of that name had died, many years ago, many."

Altair scoffed, his piercing eyes looking straight into Ezio's, "Then why is it, that I'm standing in front of you as we speak? Do you think I am dead, all but a ghost? Impossible,"

"Look, I don't know who you are-"

"I'm Altair." the ancient assassin spoke smartly, creating Ezio to become impatient. He removed his hidden blade from the man's neck, which Altair mirrored, only to regret it when he was turned around and clutched from behind, the hidden blade once again pressed to his neck.

"Walk." threatened the man behind him.

Unhappy, he did as told, and the man who held him captive had his sister open the large doors for them.

"Where is your uncle?, I'd rather speak with him." Altair tried to reason.

"And, I'd rather you shut up. Look, my uncle is out right now, so you're stuck with me," Ezio replied.

Altair scoffed.

Ezio shrugged, not caring how the man reacted. Though, Ezio wouldn't want to be clumsily tied to a chair either, to be made a fool of. But who cared? It wasn't Ezio, so he wasn't worried. He smirked to himself, and peered closer to the man, sitting in a chair just opposite from him, "So, why don't you tell me who you really are?"

"I told you who I am, why the hell do you keep asking me that?"

Ezio smiled, knowing it would piss the other man off greatly, "because, I know it's a lie."

"Look, you insolent ass, don't you see what I'm wearing,"

"What you were wearing." Ezio corrected.

That's right this stupid kid stripped me of nearly all my clothing.

"And, didn't you see the resemblence? Obviously you're an assassin just as much as I am, isn't the proof that I'm not asmuch of a threat to you as you think I am, honestly, what kind of an assassin are you, you are a foolish one to not put things together in when you observed things,"

"Are you insulting my responsibily and skill of being an assassin?"

Altair smirked, wishing he had his clothes though, so his face wouldn't have to be seen as much as if was right now, since the man took his clothing from him, thus, his pride and joy of having a hood drapped over his head, "And, what if I am. Not saying I did, or anything."

Ezio could feel the sarcasm in the older man's voice, "You say this like you're a better assassin than me, if you even are an assassin."

"It's because I know I'm better than you, if I have my weapons, I'd be able to slice you in half within a second, once I freed myself that is."

Ezio stood, angered, and pulled his sleeve up slightly, revealing the small pistol, aiming it directly at the 'supposed' assassin. He then directed it an inch from the man's head and allowed a bullet to fly from it, creating a loud noise and a puff of smoke to follow. Altair, as much as he tried not to, was shocked. He'd never seen such a thing, was that supposed to be a weapon of some sort? The loud noise rang through his ear, giving him an even bigger headache.

Ezio leaned down towards Altair's ear, "I could have just killed you, leaving behind no evidence but this tiny bullet, so, want to see if you can still cut me in half, mocho man? Or will you sit and be a good boy for me?"

The older assassin scoffed, brought his leg up, and kicked Ezio away, "So you have something that allows you to be lazy, something that gets the job done nice and easy. You wouldn't need that thing if you were a true assassin. You don't amaze me, so stop trying to, you aren't getting anyway. I demand you to let me go, I'll get anwers somewhere else, perhaps I can try to find Malik somewhere,"

Ezio's eyes widened slightly, but then ceased, "You seem to know alot about Altair's history, how?"

"Because I am Altair! And will you stop stating me in past tense, and in third person please? I'd really-"

"Be quiet for a second," the Italian man pondered on himself, "If only Leonardo were here,"

Altair remained silent, and watched as Ezio's face struck with realization, "I can't believe I forgot, Altair, tell me, what do you last remember?"

"Finally addressing me by my name? And why should I allow you to know that in formation?"

Ezio scowled, "Just tell me!"

"I remember defeating someone in a battle, and then speaking with Malik about something..."

"The Apple?" asked Ezio, which made Altair raise an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"The Piece of Eden,"

Altair tried to contain his shocked expression, "How do you know about that?" he growled.

TBC. ?