Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed

AN: This is an idea that's jogging around in my head in some form or another since I saw the multiplayer cut scenes in Revelations for the first time. We scarcely get much insight into the Assassin-Templar war in the modern day outside of comics, which I have not read, even less so from the perspectives of the Templars outside of Otso Berg. So I wrote this with the ultimate goal of fleshing out some of these characters as well to provide plausible background to AC1 and the modern day as a whole.

Please be warned that this features a heavily fictionalised version of a event in recent history.

December 2010

Alex let out an involuntary shiver as he tested his hidden blades. Who knew North Africa could be so cold, even in winter? It was on the Mediterranean coast for heaven sakes. The blade worked smoothly, as it always had. It was made of an experimental material which would not enter the public domain for at least another few years, light yet with strength comparable to titanium. Far superior to the iron the Assassins had to scrounge from their enclaves in the shadows.

"Delta-6, I'm in position. Waiting for your orders?" the voice in the com link broke him from his thoughts. "Are you even listening? Don't tell me the cold has already frozen your brain," he could all but see Callum struggling not to laugh. He and his step-brother hadn't always had the easiest of relationships but there was truly no one he trusted more than Callum.

"Don't worry, I'll still be working well enough to bail you out when shit hits the fan." Alex rolled his eyes.

"I'm the older one, I bail you out." Callum retorted.

"What about New Year's Eve 2009, when you drank so much that you tried to go through the cat flap..." Alex's tale was cut off by a quick retort. "That does not count."

Whatever reply Alex had was interrupted by the sound of a flare being shot into the air. It illuminated the sky for a brief moment, like bonfire night, and might be considered beautiful if it were not the signal to start a blood soaked revolution.

"What was that?" Callum hissed. "The protest isn't due for another hour."

"Shit happens bro," Alex replied. "Weapons tight, our mission is crowd control. This is already a firestorm, the last thing we need is a civil war breaking out."

"Roger that. I'll take the ground and you the rooftops. Good hunting."

Alex looked far and wide across the many buildings, bunched together like squares on a chessboard. Taking a deep breath, he fought back the nerves, the adrenaline and focused as best he could. The colours of the world melded together into an aura, like moonlight on the ocean. He could see sounds and hear shapes as if using every sense at once. Doors, walls and all other potential hiding places became as transparent as glass, filling Alex's vision with glowing red shapes.

"Assassins." he could not help but sneer the word. Abstergo had tracked the Apple to Tunisia soon after Mohamed Bouazizi had self-immolated so it was no surprise but Alex could not help but feel bile in his throat at the physical sight of Assassins. The last time the Assassins had meddled so heavily was Russia in 1917, a pitiful failure with severely damaging consequences in hindsight. Without a doubt, the Apple was the priority but the ensuring this revolution panned out without civil war could only be a positive outcome. Besides it wasn't like the Order had any love lost for Ben Ali.

He had a vague recollection of the first man's expression as he looked at his own blood dripping from Alex's hidden blade, shock and horror. Perhaps he died thinking, Alex was an assassin, a turncoat. Truth be told, he did look the part complete with the hood. Then again, any 6 foot man with a hooded jacket could look menacing in the right circumstances. He scanned the body with his Eagle Vision, checking for bobby traps. Sigma Team had reported cases of Assassins rigging their equipment with explosives as a weapon of last resort, a tactic which had cost the lives of more than a few good men. Fortunately, this time nothing gave off a dangerous glow. He quickly set about gathering anything that was compromising: smoke bombs, a necklace with the Assassin symbol and the one hidden blade. It wasn't surprising, in many cases their enemies hadn't the resources to fully equip their operatives anymore.

All the while, the numbers and noise the protesters were making was increasing, disturbing what little tranquillity there was left. An almost crazed lumping together of languages, it was nigh on impossible to distinguish exactly what was said. French, Derja, Literary Arabic and some seemingly alien tongues, perhaps a Berber language? Alex looked across the crowd: portraits of Bouazizi, the man would no doubt become a martyr if he died of his injuries, was that an effigy of Ben-Ali destined to be torched? He looked further, seeing the local police in terror. Wild hand gestures, shouting and what presumably were frantic pleas for support on the radio. He spotted Callum, a blue aura in the crowd, evidently struggling to decide between the necessities of social stealth and de-escalating an explosive situation.

Callum really has his work cut- He tensed, allowing the thought to peter out. Someone was following him.

CRUNCH! He whipped around just in time to see a hooded figure smash into his chest, sucking the breath out of his lungs. In desperation, Alex kicked out at the man's chest, hoping that adrenaline would provide the force required at least buy him a few seconds. The Assassin was driven back a few feet, allowing Alex to roll out of his path, creating some desperately needed space between him and his opponent. It seemed that one of his targets had decided to be proactive, not content with being hunted from the shadows, and try to turn the tables.

Taking a few exhaling breaths, Alex assumed a defensive stance. He noticed his adversary also become wary, to the outside world two of them must have resembled wolves circling each other. He could not afford this, to waste time on a direct confrontation.

"I'm impressed Assassin. At least you have a spine, unlike your brother back there." Though the man's expression was hidden by a hood, Alex could sense his taunting had a effect. The Assassin's body stiffened slightly and it seemed that the air went still. This was an advantageous albeit precarious situation. Rage can unbalance an opponent but could also inspire an increased, primal ferocity. Still though, he had to try and end this quickly.

"I've killed many like him. You see, people show themselves at death's door. Everything, like a collage. Assassins, women, children. In a way, I know your brothers better than you ever will. You want to know how many were cowards?" Alex struggled to keep the bile from rising up his throat, crushing the gnawing of his conscience ruthlessly. This is war. There can be no grandstanding, no virtue.

Despite this, his words had served their purpose. The Assassin charged wildly, the moonlight glinting of his hidden blade, predictably worn on his left hand out of tradition. Alex caught the man's hand and struggle ensued. To his credit, the muppet was stronger than he looked. His opponent's blade pushed to one side, there was a satisfying click as he flicked his left wrist and plunged the activated blade upwards into the Assassin's jawline. An expression of shock was frozen, eternally painted, on the man's face as his body turned limp and still. For Alex the monotonous routine was repeated, removing anything related to the Assassins and Templars from the man's body and making him look like a civilian caught in the crossfire.

Out of the blue, the streets below exploded with yet more noise. Fucking great. What he saw made only frustrated and dazzled him. Literally. Another flare, seemingly from within the crowd. No wait, another one?! He followed a tinge of red for but a moment, observing it fade to the monotonous grey of an inanimate object. Standing over the corpse was the familiar blue glow of Callum. He had been just a second too late but there was no time to be wasted on regret. Turning his gaze to the second flare, he narrowed his eyes. The perpetrator, a woman this time, on a corresponding rooftop observing the consequences of her dirty work.

He had no intention of risking another direct confrontation so soon. One bullet to the chest, one to the head. The Assassin collapsed like a puppet without strings, dead before she hit the ground. The background noise of the protest, or was it a riot now, concealed the muffled sound. Observing warily, he checked for sudden movements. Nothing. There was no response from her brethren. Good.

He leapt across effortlessly to the rooftop that the Assassin has been on, free-running with a cat like grace. Despite the general situation being a complete shitshow, he felt a sense of fulfilment as he navigated the landscape of urban structures with a fluid ease of movement. It was exhilarating and he was genuinely thankful for the many hours of strictly regulated training sessions in the Animus, ensuring that at the very least he had the skills to survive in the seemingly eternal war between Templars and Assassins. Climbing, fighting and even languages. Though with deeper thought, it could be argued that these abilities were, in a way, in his blood. For one, his Eagle Vision had manifested naturally. It had come as a shock to his family, and everyone else for that matter. Even Callum's own abilities had to be, in large part, brought out by the Animus despite his Templar descent.

Putting those thoughts to one side, he went through the same motions with the body of his latest victim. Hidden Blade, a flashlight, a combat knife and a folded note of some kind. Intrigued, he began to read. It wasn't encrypted per se but each paragraph was in a different language. English, Italian, German. Languages that weren't so widely spoken in Tunisia. Clever.

"Lila,

I wish this were under better circumstances. We suspect the Templars have sent their military agents after you. This letter is a warning.

We need not discuss what would occur should they discover the extent of our presence here, Tunis especially so. Moreover, inform Hassan that the latest shipment may be delayed; the Templars' sniffing around has spooked my contacts in Samsun. In the meantime, I will continue to assist you as best I can.

Once again I appraise your work and urge you to be careful as always.

Yours in brotherhood,

Emir."

A snake like smile formed on his face. Now this was something, names and a place. Prior to this, they were going into a maze blindfolded. Sidi Bouzid, Siliana, Thala. The Assassins could have been operating in any one of the various cities that had seen rioting. But now, he knew with reasonable certainty they had major operations in Tunis. Honestly, he would have dismissed the capital as too obvious but in hindsight it aligned perfectly with the methods of the enemy: hiding in plain sight.

He made to contact Callum immediately, only to hear the other's voice.

"You really need to hear this" they said to each other simultaneously.

Callum chuckled: "Alright, you first."

"I found a very interesting letter from an Assassin in Turkey. Apparently, they have a major operation in Tunis. I even have a name, Hassan; might be some big-time cog in their supply network." Alex explained.

"Fascinating." Callum's gaze sharpened with interest. "It seems that this isn't just some low key cell with delusions with grandeur. I found correspondences from around the world. China, North America, back home in the UK. They're organised, which makes them dangerous."

"Looks like our work might not be done when we leave Tunisia after all." Alex replied.

"I've still got finals to revise for." Callum grumbled. There were admittedly times that they forgot about their youth, only 21 and 22 respectively. Their work was a world apart from their compatriots. Most people their age seemed to be partying or protesting the student fee increases. Knowing the true nature of the world could certainly be a burden at times.

Alex looked at the state of the protest, it was beyond hope. It would likely descend into a full scale riot and the fact that armed security forces were arriving was adding fuel to a raging inferno. He sighed.

"Today's a write off. It's a clean up job from here and then we'll try and plan our next moves."

"Roger that, I'll see you soon." came Callum's reply.

Alex scanned the cityscape one last time, focused finding any remaining enemies on the rooftops. Soon enough, he found himself looking at a figure bathed in an aura of red. Only one left. As he approached, he realised it wouldn't be so straightforward.

The Assassin was noticeably restless, pacing back and forth, his eyes scanning his surrounding with a trained precision. He was also agitated, yelling into a radio. Alex could hardly blame him, most of his colleagues were dead. He was also better equipped than the others, wearing what appeared to be a military grade ballistic vest. Damn, he couldn't just shoot him either. Alex observed his enemy's surroundings, looking for an opportunity to strike. He soon noticed the man was standing on a wide balcony. The roof directly above would be a blind spot, yes. But how to approach? He was not deluded to believe that the Assassin wouldn't see him if he approached by rooftop. After another sweep of the area, he found his solution. A ladder left close to the Assassin's location. He allowed himself to smile. Climb around the back of the building, air assassinate the Assassin. Simple.

Reaching the ground, he put up his hood, blending into the crowd while keeping a constant eye on that balcony. The Assassin hadn't moved. Good. Taking a deliberately longer route, he eventually made his way to the back of the building. He was lucky he wasn't stopped, for the streets were now crawling with armed men as the regime sought to put down the protest violently.

He climbed up the backside of the building easily, take extra care to make as little noise as possible. As he carefully stalked across the rooftop, closer and closer, he found his heart pumping. Soon the Assassin was in directly below. Taking a breath he jumped, hidden blades out, right onto the Assassin's position.

When did he realise it had gone wrong? Was it the moment he felt nothing but the impact his feet made on the cold ground? Was it when he heard the Assassin's mirthless laugh: "Did you really think it'd be that easy?"

Whipping around, Alex moved his right arm. What was he to do? Lash out with the still activated blade or reach for his pistol. In the end it was irrelevant. His opponent was just a little bit faster. First he felt that arm being grabbed and then a sudden, powerful force connect with his stomach. Most of the air was forced out of his lungs as he struggled to not buckle under the pain. Looking around, his eyes widened at the sight of his enemy's hidden blade being activated, the metal shining in the moonlight. Out of pure instinct, he slashed wildly into the other man's side with his left blade, the chaotic arc of his arm's movement managing to catch the Assassin off-guard. He couldn't recollect precisely what happened next. A sound vaguely resembling a pin dropping, his entire line of sight covered in nothing but white. A ringing noise in his ears. Falling and landing with a thud.

After what seemed like an eternity, his eyesight slowly returned. The ringing faded. He clutched his head, trying to comprehend his surroundings. Eventually he made out the barrel of a rifle pointed at his face. The man holding wore a hostile expression.

"Who are you?" he shouted in Arabic, his tone commanding.

"Go Fuck Yourself." Alex ground out.

That earned a rifle stock slammed into his chest area.

"Do you really think you're in a position to mock me?!" The man seethed.

The slightly disoriented Templar looked beyond him. A hooded figure was observing the scene from above, getting closer with each step.

"Not yet." he retorted.

What happened next did so at a frantic pace. The hooded figure seemed to defy gravity for a brief picturesque moment, in the air one second and blades plunged into the backs of his captor's two companions. If his motion could be considered beautiful, the crunching impact and screams of the two were anything but. Alex's captor turned around, only to be greeted by a bullet to the head. Falling like a domino, he was dead.

Callum walked past the corpse, towards his brother. Pulling him up, he made sure Alex could stand.

"Are you alright? Any major injuries?" He asked, concerned.

It took a moment for the reply: "Don't think so, maybe a slight concussion."

Callum nodded: "What happened up there?"

"Fight, temporary blindness. My vision was filled with white and ears were ringing. Assassin got away, I think."

Callum put a hand on Alex's shoulder: "Come on. We best not stick around."

Alex nodded and the two of them disappeared into the shadows.