The night was late, and the air smelled of revenge.

Altaïr was waiting. Carefully crouching low in the shadows, his eyes wandered in a distinct repeating pattern from one point to another as he glared at the city below. A lit window here, a cart of hay there, and a specific pile of rubble made up the three points waiting along the path his eyes continued to take, shifting from one to another in an obtuse triangle. Moonlight cascaded onto the rough surfaces of rooftops and gritty walls around him, but he took care to remain hidden in a mass of blue darkness. A single glint of light on his white robes would instantly alert someone to his presence, and it was an alarm he could not afford to raise.

With each pass of his eyes over the surveyed area, his jaw tightened just a little more. There were very few things that annoyed him more than impatience. He knew he should have acquired the ability to wait for hours with the greatest of ease by now, but it always made him feel useless. He was a man of bold action, not one to wait idly by for things to happen as they pleased. He wondered if he might have a better view of things if he climbed higher, and after a moment's deliberation, he chose to stand to his full height and leap up to a place on the tower. His fingers grasped handholds with precision that had become second nature. All the while, he focused on his peripheral vision, watching for any movements out of the ordinary that would require a quick change in his course of action.

He reached the narrow top of the tower and turned around to scour the city once more. Now he could see all the way out to the walls protecting the people from invasion. Altaïr sneered. The people. They cared little for the protection offered them by city guards and towering walls. The most they ever did was stand in his way or badger him for money. Even if they knew of the centuries-old war existing just beyond their walls, they would likely continue their dusty, miserable lives without a second thought.

He rearranged his position until he was perched comfortably on the narrow ledge that was still barely hidden in dark shadow. His pulse quickened as a flash of movement appeared out of the corner of his eye. There, moving with swift silence through the night, he saw a collection of glowing dots that left trails of light in the darkness, wandering through the maze of streets. Blindly, Altaïr thought, in comparison to his perfectly angled view of the world. He swiftly worked his way down the tower until he was at the same level as the rooftops, then dashed across the uneven surface to the point where he had seen the torches.

He could hear them now. Horses' hooves clattered against the stone, accompanied by a collection of footsteps and lowly spoken words. He crept to the end of the roof and flattened himself against it to remain hidden from sight and glanced over the edge. Firelight danced from the torches, lighting up the faces of several men, but he saw only one.

The traitor.

Altaïr did not know the man's name, but his face was all too familiar. He had betrayed the Brotherhood, given precious secrets to the Templars, and now was trying to run and hide like the coward he was. Altaïr fingered a throwing knife, debating which method would be best for disposing of such filth. His accuracy with throwing knives had always been passable at best, and the cover of night allowed him a much wider range of abilities. The sword was best used while on the ground, though, and the hidden blade was far too delicate to be used while jumping from such a great height. Apart from that, Altaïr had already decided that the worthless man did not deserve such a discreet, sudden death. He needed to bleed.

He drew a short dagger from its hiding place and leapt forward, sharp eyes intensely focused on the man. His form eclipsed the moonlight for one dark moment, and he spread his arms out, appearing similar to an oversized eagle as he soared toward his target. The knife glinted in his hand. He tucked forward into a ball and brought the knife down so it would satisfyingly sink into the man's emotionless heart. Altaïr caught a glimpse of pure fear in the man's expression as their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

There was a flash of sparkling blue that filled his eyes, and everything vanished.