disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters.
In which the Animus overloading resulted in a glitch that jumbled up the content data of Altaïr and Ezio, causing a frustrating difficulty spike in synching for both Desmond and Clay while they look for the all-important synch nexus.
Or... How Desmond desperately tried to synch Altaïr with Ezio, while Clay attempted the same to Ezio with Altaïr. And both failed spectacularly.
Or... The incident that caused the two top-tier Master Assassins to switch psyches, and somehow both became embarrassingly amateurish at assassination, to the grief of their descendants (but mostly Desmond).
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The thoughts of Ezio and Altaïr.
(Which Desmond or Clay might or might not hear.)
"The normal speech of Altaïr and Ezio."
"(Which Desmond or Clay could always hear, to Altaïr's and Ezio's dismay.)"
- The words of Desmond and Clay. -
- (Which was broadcast to the current Room, but Altaïr and Ezio might or might not acknowledge.) -
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Content Data, Glitch
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[Memory Corridor- Safe Mode] (Ezio. Desmond.)
The reconstructed content data of Ezio was the first to notice that something was off.
Looking to the faraway light at the horizon of the dark blue loading ground, he felt a little unsettled, as he took a step forward. Soundlessly treading into the inky black...
And almost stumbled on his suddenly-a-little-too-long white robes.
The hell...?
Then he saw it.
Those... those were definitely not his greaves.
Standing very still now since he dared not upset the Animus system any more than necessary, Ezio tilted his head trying to catch the attention of the Observer. Clay? Or is it Desmond...? He thought hard, calling out in his head. I think there's a glitch in the system...!
No answer.
Can anyone hear me...?
Still no answer.
That's ju–
Data-lines split up the loading ground at this precise moment, more glitches, and the Master Assassin found himself in a dimly-lit and very unfamiliar underground construction site of some sort.
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[Jerusalem. 1191.]
–ust great.
Ezio resisted the urge to sigh.
As a seasoned Assassin, the first thing he checked when confronted with the unknown was of course his weapons. Knives on back, waist, left boot, and right shoulder; long sword secured; single left hidden blade.
Could work with these. Now, what's the objective?
Taking in the surroundings, Ezio noted two other Assassins in tasteless plain robes scouting around the back and... an unsuspecting old man not two feet from him, unfortunately blocking the available path forward.
"Wait." One of the fellow Assassins whispered. "There must be another way. This one need not die."
But an unidentified data source told Ezio to off the old man. So he ignored the opposing voice– Malik, the data provided– and moved in to strike.
Easy.
And with the proficiency of someone doing it for repeated lifetimes, Ezio activated the mechanics of his hidden blade and landed his first kill of this memory sequence.
Tzing– Snap!
Uhh. That's weird. The Florentine Eagle was pretty sure that second sound wasn't supposed to happen. Pulling back the bloodied blade, he meant to inspect the cause of that strange sound...
... when a thin piece of metal dropped to the ground with a soft Clank!
"Excellent kill!" The younger of the other two– Kadar, the data helpfully supplied, the brother of Malik– came over and offered a simple praise. "Fortune favors your blade."
But Ezio wasn't listening. He was looking at the broken piece of metal, baffled.
"You should not have drawn attention to us." Malik, though, disapproved with a small frown, the barest hint of impatience. "You should not have taken the life of an in–"
Stopping mid-sentence, the elder Syrian Assassin also saw the broken thin metal, then he proceeded to grip Ezio on his left arm and turn it upwards.
The hidden blade was broken.
There followed an awkward silence.
And the world metaphorically shook and flicker in warning, losing synch fast.
"... The blade is very delicate, Altaïr, you should know better than to attempt a strike on the vertebrae at this angle." There was a small quirk at the corner of Malik's lips, like he wanted to laugh but was trying very hard to act professional. "The mishap of a novice."
Ezio could feel a heated blush all the way to his ears.
Before everything collapsed.
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[Memory Corridor- Safe Mode]
And he found himself once again standing on the black and gloomy blue loading ground.
- This never happened before. -
Desmond? Ezio mentally called, for he had no voice here in the void, straightening his way-too-long white robe and making sure all his weapons were again intact. Can you hear me?
- Yes, I can hear you. Barely though. - The voice of his youngest descendant answered, loud and clear. - I think this is the first time we managed to desynch within the first five minutes. Is something wrong, Altaïr? -
Something is definitely wrong. Ezio deadpanned.
- Uhh... Is it just me, or do you sound a little different? -
Desmond. The Florentine Eagle almost couldn't believe the modern Assassin was this slow. I'm Ezio.
A looong pause.
- What. The. Fuck? -
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Note
In high-profile assassination:
Ezio breaks the cerebral vertebrae, leading to an instant and almost painless death.
Altaïr cuts through the trachea and jugular vein, the victim would die of suffocation or blood loss. Much more painful, due to the slight delay in death time.
The hidden blades of the 12th century were extremely brittle compare to those of the 15th century.
Thus when Ezio used his usual method of killing, it would cause the blade to snap.
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[Memory Corridor- Safe Mode] (Altaïr. Clay.)
Altaïr noted the glitch in the system before his content data were fully uploaded, but he paid it no heed.
Small glitches appear at random intervals often enough and most were self-correcting within seconds to minutes. And even if something more serious were to happen, the Animus would just restart itself before repeating the procedure.
But then data-lines split open the monochromatic loading ground, with no signs of any revising commands being carried out, a small frown graced Altaïr's features.
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[Florentine Republic. 1476.]
He found himself in a clustered room and, now with a suitable background for proper comparison, Altaïr realized he was right about the glitch and that he was in fact taller than he remembered. By a little over two inches it seemed.
Storing that bit of information into the back of his mind, he looked around.
There was an opened chest just off to the side, and Altaïr crouched down to retrieve the documents– objective: deliver it to Uberto Alberti, the database whispered– and a hidden blade, which disappointedly was in no condition to use.
Just have to make do with the long sword, then. Altaïr thought nonchalantly as he left the building, mind set on completing the current mission as soon as possible.
Somehow, he wasn't the least surprised when two guards flanked him the moment he step out the door.
Not in the mood to waste time, Altaïr whipped out his sword and– Riiip!
Huh?
A long tear sliced through the superfluous black side-cape, also cutting open his loose sleeve in the process.
And the night flickered, an admonishment of low synch.
A deepened frown the only indication that Altaïr discerned the warning, he parried the first attack with ease, turning half a circle to side-step the second, and...
He heard a small crack.
And it didn't sound assuring.
Better finish them off quick. Decided, the Masyaf Eagle swung the long sword at the closer guard's exposed neck before his attention already focusing on the next target– CLANK! Rang the sound of metal meeting metal.
And Altaïr snapped around, shocked. I... missed?
He did.
His blade only grazed the guard's hairline and knocked off the weird-looking hat, but missed the intended mark entirely. Thus relenting the essential seconds for the target to defend.
A little frustrated at himself, Altaïr applied a different method of assault...
... only to miss again.
But thankfully this time, he missed the torso but pierced the neck.
Two mere city guards were taking an embarrassing amount of time. And Altaïr opt to clave the last bothersome man on the neck.
The sword was buried into the skull instead, though, but the effect was just as good.
Until the Masyaf Eagle tried to retrieve the weapon that was, because he then realized the sword was completely stuck.
This. Is. NOT. Happening.
Only it was.
And right on cue, the losing of the blade caused the second and more violent flicker on the background. Desynching warning.
Having maybe two or three seconds to amend his mistake, the Assassin practically launched himself at the nearest fallen sword... but a sharp pain shot up his left ankle, causing his step to falter and he fell. Precious seconds lost.
Then the world fragmented into shards, leaving Altaïr with half an instant to curse in fluent Italian before the system muted his cord.
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[Memory Corridor- Safe Mode]
- Let me guess, you're not Ezio. -
No, I am not; I am Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. The wounded Eagle hissed in his head, crawling up from his fallen position now that his sprained ankle had healed, and tried to salvage some dignity. And you are not Desmond.
- I'm Clay, Clay Kaczmarek. - The unknown Observer immediately answered. - Nice to meet you, Altaïr. -
Save your pleasantries. Fix this.
- Not the talking type, apparently. - Clay said, tone a little flighty. - It wasn't supposed to load your data anyway. I'll restart the program. -
Altaïr indifferently watched his fingers disintegrate.
Then realized his conscious was still intact after being digitally rebuilt.
It is not working.
No answer.
It is not working.
No answer.
It is not working, Clay.
- I can barely hear you. Voice all jumbled up. - Finally a reply. - Are you Ezio now? -
No, I am still Altaïr. It did not work.
- Hmm, okay. Strange. Wait a moment, I'm contacting Desmond. -
Altaïr scowled.
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Note
Altaïr adapts a lot of swirls and turns during combo attacks, mainly to lend power to his hits. It is also a sign of having great flexibility.
However, the result is he often turns his back to the enemy. And it was only due to the combination of extended knowledge of the human anatomy, precise proprioception, and extreme self-awareness that he can land lethal hits even without actually facing his target.
Courtesy of the taller Ezio, the two inches of unwanted extra height will unfortunately cause Altaïr to constantly miss the desired mark by two inches. Because his movements are often overly reliant on innate muscle memory.
Also, Ezio's physicality didn't have the required gymnastic softness Altaïr needed to perform many of his counters, so he would of course be in danger of hurting himself if he tried.
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[Black Room] (Desmond. Clay.)
- Clay! Are you here? -
- Yes, Desmond. No need to yell. I can hear you fine. -
- I think there's something wrong with the system... -
- You can't load Altaïr? -
- Huh? How did you know? -
- Because when I loaded Ezio's data, I ended up with Altaïr's. I've even tried to restart the program. -
- Why didn't I think of that! -
- It won't work. -
A pause.
- Clay. We're still on the timer to find the synch nexus? -
- That's right. Before the Animus try to delete us. And we're not anywhere close to solving the current problem. -
- That's unfortunate. -
Another pause.
- Screw it, I'm trying again. -
- Wish you luck, too, Desmond. -
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Takes place in AC:R. But will feature random memory sequences from AC1, AC2, AC:B, and AC:R.
The same font for The Thoughts and The Text are used, intentionally, to create a similar illusion of why they are sometimes difficult for Desmond and Clay to decipher.
Despite what the summary may imply, neither Ezio nor Altaïr would magically lose their assassination skills.
This story is a humorous attempt at exploring the many differences between these two characters. And I will try my best to keep everyone IC.