Please see the bottom note for full disclosure.

Altair sat crouched on the parapet and looked out over the city. It was dark out, but beyond the city was alive. Overhead blimps broadcast the news and on the great Abstergo Tower a full display of the company logo, three trapezoids forming a triangle, and the words 'A Safer Tomorrow' under it. Altair frowned, pulling his hood tighter around his face as the wind blew away any feint fog that would have gathered around his face this winter night. He wasn't cold though, even though his jacket was a bit thin. Upgrades in his skin stopped his nerves from register temperatures at certain degrees. He'd feel it if it was getting to the point of frost bite or serious sun burns. But for this, nothing to worry over.

He looked down, and below was a floor of glass that reached the street sidewalk some sixty stories down. Altair grinned, just a little, to himself, and tugged on a pair of white gloves. The outsides looked like rubber, but the insides were plastic, breathable, but gripped his palms and back of his hands like a second skin. He double checked the harness around his waist before standing up and looking down. Time to take a leap of faith, like they always did when they used this equipment. A novice could hurt themselves, or worse get themselves killed, if they weren't sure of their equipment. Altair knew he would be safe, he had faith.

Slowly he tipped forward and fell forward into open air. Wind rushed past his face and threw back his hood as he flipped in mid fall. He faced the building now, arms outstretched, free falling on his stomach. Then the rope around his middle caught and he swung towards the building. Altair held his arms forward and they collided with the glass. His gloves were like shock absorbers, and the glass merely rattled, instead of breaking. Normal people would have broken both arms trying that stunt. Thank the God for reinforced skeletons.

He flipped so he was sitting mid air and took stock of what floor he was on as he tugged off his gloves, their use was over. He was at about floor forty three. He needed floor thirty six. Humming a little under his breath Altair tugged at a few straps on his harness and began to slide down the rope at a controlled pace. He reached floor thirty six and stopped, the harness jerking him to a halt.

From a pouch at his side Altair pulled out a small glass cutter. Had to love the basics and created a circle only a little bigger than his shoulders before popping the glass out. Shit. What was he supposed to do with this? He groaned, mid air, and looked down. He wasn't afraid of heights, and his Eagle Vision kicked in, zooming in on the distance street far below. The street was empty and was so for blocks. He could drop the glass. "Fuck," he muttered as he caught sight of the time. He had to get in and away from the window quickly, a guard was going to be coming by in less than a minute.

Altair just cut his losses and dropped the glass. Then, as if he was diving, he swung towards the hole in the glass, unhooking his harness as he did to and rolled soundlessly into the hallway. He jerked his hood up as he looked up and down the hallway, Eagle Vision automatically washing his sight out into muted green tinted grays of night vision, turning the darkness into twilight.

He stood up from his kneeling position slowly his ears catching the sound of an incoming guard. Altair ducked behind a desk and did his best not to breath loudly, or really at all, as the guard walked past, their footsteps loud on the carpet. He stared at the hole in the glass irritably. They should invent something to fix this, so they wouldn't leave holes in the glass. He hoped the guard wouldn't notice, but of course; he did. The guard gave a surprised cry and Altair felt his body twitch, urging him to run, his natural instinct to get as far the fuck away from the guard as possible. Training kept him still however as the guard radioed that they'd had a break in.

Lovely.

The guard however was stupid and left the hall to Altair, hurrying away as if Altair wasn't there. He gave a soft breath of thanks once the guard was gone and rose slowly from behind the desk and went down the hall in the other direction, jogging till he came to a flight of stairs. The floor above was only reachable from this level, as all the offices along the outside were blocked out with walls.

"Hello beautiful," he grinned as he reached the top of the stairs and out before him stretched rows upon rows of computer and server banks. Eagle Vision adjusted to the new darkness, the image becoming slightly grainy at the edges, washing out further. Humming he casually strolled down the stack of servers, all whirling softly, the room a balmy seventy degrees as the ventilation system sucked in air from the outside to cool the room.

The Templars thought they were stupid. Honestly it was the only reason they would do this. The server bank for Abstergo Tower was located damn near across town, in an unsuspecting office building. The commanders were going to have fucking kittens.

Altair found a terminal mounted into the wall and turned it on. After a second the screen it up and he narrowed his eyes before the night vision faded into more or less his normal vision. Once the terminal was operational he quickly clicked through several menus and found what he was looking for. He pulled out an empty data chip into one of the ports and copied a bunch of files. Then he copied other files from around the terminal, help draw off the trail. In went another data chip, as he pulled the other one our, and he uploaded all the files onto it into the system. The servers around him whirled, whined and then all the little lights, including the terminal shut off.

Chuckling he grabbed both data chips, tucked them away and left. Eagle Vision was cranked up on high as all the lights in the building had gone out. He stopped a moment and looked across the city. Abstergo Tower was shut down, except for their massive sign, which no longer bore the Abstergo sign, but now was a white background with a massive design of the Assassins in red, the Creed scrolled along the bottom in red text 'Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.' Time to get out. He walked casually to the stairwell on the floor and started down. Down, down, down he went and pushed open the emergency exit door. Usually an alarm would have sounded, but the entire building was dead.

"Thank you for that marvelous demonstration, Altair," a voice chimed through the air and the night dissolved around him, replaced by the sleek white room of the training simulator. It flittered through another chameleon of looks, the panels seeming to ripple, and it once more looked like a class room. While it might have been a simulator, but it was also a classroom, there were ten other rooms just like it in the lower levels of the fortress, for the ten novice classes.

"Of course," Altair said, and put his hands behind his back as he now stood before a class of thirteen year olds of both genders who were looking at him with awe, as well as one who looked like he was about to burst apart with excitement and pride. Altair gave him a slight smile, his son had every right to be proud Altair was his father.

Their teacher was standing behind the group of teenagers, "And of course the best part is that that was indeed a mission you performed."

Altair chuckled, "Yes, I do not remember it being quite as easy however," it was a gentle nudge and they both knew. In truth the Templars had had trained and armed guards stationed on the floor below the banks, and Altair had had to melt the hinges off the door to the floor above to even get in. He'd also killed, a lot. But they were Templars, he hadn't cared. At this age however the novices were still spared from blood, hell most of them had only begun puberty. The Order was not so cruel as to inflict such gore onto children.

The instructor chuckled. "Indeed, now I was wondering if you could-

The door opened and everyone turned to look, a woman stood in the doorway, "Excuse me for the interruption Jackson," they bowed their head at the instructor, "Master Altair, the Grand Master summons you," she said looking right at him.

"Is it urgent?" he asked carefully.

"He said that whatever you might be doing, short of physical harm if you did not do so, was to be done later. Come," she ordered.

"Tell him I'll be right along, I do not wish to be rude," he motioned to the teenagers in the class. She looked at them, back at him, nodded once, and then left. He looked at the instructor, "My apologies Jackson," he said sincerely.

"Think nothing of it brother," Jackson waved away his concern.

"I wouldn't be against you dragging me in here again, to the benefit of your students," his eyes flicked to Darim for only a moment.

Jackson chuckled slightly, "I don't doubt," he agreed. "Class," he said in an authoritative tone and they all stood up from their chairs.

"Safety and peace Master Altair," they said in unison and bowed to him.

"Safety and peace novices," he said with a slight wave and walked out the door. He walked down the slightly curved hallway to the end where he dropped off his harness, which was still around his waist. The instructor who tended the equipment just gave him a nod and he continued to the elevator banks.

—

The top of the fortress was lovely, with wide open windows that looked out upon the mountains and forest around them. The city was a purple array of towers to the east. Most of the fortress was underground, but the uppermost floors was above ground. He stopped at the station outside the Grand Master's desk, "The Grand Master called for me," he said, she looked him over quickly before nodding and telling him to go in.

The Grand Master was a man in his fifties, with slicked back, black hair and a large scar over his left eye leaving him blind. His family had held the seat of the Grand Master for over a century, something that didn't usually happen. Normally the seat of the Grand Master was not passed on along blood lines, but the Auditore family had an especially strong line of genes that made them cuts above the rest. Farther back in their genes Altair shared a great grandmother with them, but the genetic line had diverged after that and while they shared some traits, they were not similar. So in effect he was related to Grand Master Mario, but not related to him exactly.

There was another man in the room as well and Altair felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His eyes narrowed at Malik who glared right back at him. There was a mutual dislike between the two, and not even Altair was sure why. They'd been in the same class together growing up and while usually novices of the same class were close, more like siblings than even those they were genetic siblings with, it had not been so with him and Malik. They were both extremely skilled, and very competitive and what had been a friendly rivalry in their youth had expanded into something resembling animosity. It was probably petty and childish, they were both in their thirties for the God's sake, but Malik could just get under his skin like no one else. Though to be fair Altair knew exactly which buttons to push to get Malik to react in any way he wanted, anger usually. Normally it would have shown compatibility but… he balked at the thought of any child of his sharing genes with the man. Thankfully the Order took notice of who wasn't just compatibly genetically, but also who may or may not like who, they weren't assholes about it.

"Ah, Altair," Mario said, cheerfully, a broad smile on his face.

"Master," he bowed his head and when Mario beckoned him to sit, he came around to the other chair in the room and sat next to Malik on the other side of the desk. Every sense was on alert with Malik so close, they were too similar, they clashed. Too many similar genes? That seemed stupid since Altair shared more DNA with the Mentor than the other Master Assassin. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting, my apologies," he said once he was seated.

Mario waved off his apology, "Not long enough for it to be a concern Altair. Shandra told me you were down in the fifth class giving a demonstration," Altair nodded. "I'm sure you both know the season is approaching," he said, they nodded separately.

The season was the time of year members of their Order could petition for children, or the higher ups of the Order decided that certain people would make better matches than others. Ever since the Collapse, when most of the higher standing western countries had fallen to their own civil wars and infighting that had erupted after the plague. It was called a plague, though it was no sickness that could be cured. It was said that before the Collapse you didn't have to go to a Child's Bank if you wanted to have a baby, women could just have them. In fact they had so many children that the population had swelled to the point of bursting. Then the 'plague' had come and fewer and fewer children started to be born till none were being born.

The world had torn itself apart when it became obvious there was nothing that could save them. No science or prayer could fix whatever had fucked up biology. It had taken till the world was growing old, and they realized they had to be something they could do, because there were no more young people, they were all old, or were dead. No God answered their prayer, but scientists had not been idle during the drought of youth and had been perfecting how to inseminate blank eggs with genes from two different parents. They came onto the scene, almost seventy years after the Collapse and showed off not just their technology, but also over a dozen children ranging from ages of five to fifteen. Not even those remaining members of the more devout sects of what remained of the religions could nay say them, because the fact stood that without this technology humanity would wipe itself off the face of the earth.

That was almost five hundred years ago now. The plague now a bad memory, but still few, or no, children were born of normal conception, and they continued to use science to populate. Child's Banks were the places normal people could go to have a child, in the Order it was different, and often two parents were simply paired together without remark to their own interactions. The Order bred and raised Assassins, the cream of the crop and all their members were flawless as far as genetics went, with as little junk DNA as possible. Altair had two children like this, with two different other donors. He was in good standings with the both of them, but it had never been topic of affection between them. The Mentor and his advisors had told him to do, and he had done it. It was not an uncommon story as one might think and the season was when the Order… bred (though using such a word to explain it comes across more rude to the entire experience than not) it's members and grew their numbers.

"Good," Mario continued, "Well, it's been decided, that you two will be participating this year," there was a silence and Altair felt all the hair on his body stand up on end. Next to him the arms of Malik's chair creaked as he gripped it. Usually being chosen was an honor, as only about twenty couples were chosen a year. But this didn't sound like an honor and Altair waited for the shoe to drop. The silence lasted only long enough for Altair's heart to beat a few times before Mario said, "together."

"WHAT!"

"You can't possibly expect-

"I refuse to share my genes with that-

"Mentor have you lost your mind?"

"Under what sort of good graces-

"Enough!" Mario bellowed, being the only one who'd remained sitting, as both he and Malik he jumped from their chairs and hand their hands on his desk. "Both of you, sit down," he ordered. Altair was shaking slightly but he pushed back from the desk. Over thirty years of training had beaten him into the shape of obedience and he sat, Malik did so as well, looking just as pleased about the situation as him. "Now, are you going to act like the grown men and Masters you are or do I have to assign you some sort of humiliating punishment for causing such a scene?" he demanded. Neither of them answered, and simply adverted their eyes, they would behave.

"Good," Mario's brow smoothed out and he brushed something invisible, perhaps some wrinkles, off the front of his uniform. "Now than, you two have proven well that you have good material, Altair, Darim is the top of the fifth class, Malik, Tazim is shaping up to be one of the brightest boy we've seen in a long time."

Malik lifted his hand, just slightly, a permission to speak. Mario nodded at him, "While I mean no disrespect sir, but I am not comfortable fathering a child with a man I hate," and Altair glared at him and Malik gave him a scathing look out of the corner of his eye.

"I feel the same," Altair said quickly before Mario could speak. Mario sent him a look that said 'be quiet, you do not have permission to speak', and he looked down again.

"Your feelings have been taken into consideration, we're well aware of your childish animosity towards each other," Malik opened his mouth but the Mentor sent him a hot look, shutting him up. "But you two both possess superior genes. Altair, you have all twelve modes of the Eagle Vision, something that hasn't been seen since my own great grandfather, and Malik you're one of our sharpest minds, our best support. It would be stupid to not see what would come of your union," and Altair clenched the arms of his chair, grinding his teeth. He wanted to speak, but training kept him silent and obedient. "You both have two options, you can do this of your own will and go down to the Nursery to do as commanded. Or, we will sedate you. Your personal baggage is not of interest to the Order, we are interested in creating the best men and women to fight the Templars. Do I make myself clear?" he asked sharply.

"Yes sir," Altair short of growled. There was nothing he nor Malik could do about this. They'd been given the ultimatum and come high or low waters the Order would be mixing these genes. Damn it all. Malik gave his own quiet agreement.

"Good," Mario said firmly, "Both of you may leave, you have till the end of the month to go down to the Nursery, before the season starts."

Altair stood with a jerk, "Yes sir," he said again, Malik, who was even more irritant about the whole thing than him didn't even say anything, he just nodded and left the office. Altair followed a few seconds after, to give Malik room. Behind him he heard Mario sigh tiredly and mutter a quiet 'novices' under his breath. Altair closed the door behind him.

—

Malik left the Nursery, with it's soft pastel colors and cheerful decor, feeling more than a little defiled. The last time he'd been to the Nursery it had been under very different circumstances. For starters, he hadn't hated the other half of the pairing he'd been told to make a child with.

Jessabelle had been a nice young woman with a mind like a machine and while not a Master had unlocked seven modes of the Eagle Vision, Malik, despite his rank and age on her, had only unlocked four, and hadn't changed since their joining. They'd gotten to know each other after being told they'd been chosen to be paired together, Malik had been surprised, he had never thought he'd get any children. The slots were very competitive and often the Order gave them to people who wanted them, or at least if they petitioned early enough. Malik would have been content without a child, passing on his genes didn't mean as much to him as it did to others. But the Order had intervened and given him his partner in Jessabelle. He'd had some feelings for her, and had taken her to his bed… often, but she'd been sent on mission a few weeks before Tazim was born. She'd ended up killed in action and Malik had been shocked by his own broken heart. That had been the last time he'd given thought to the Nursery, and that had been nine years ago, now Tazim was in the second class, and had clearly taken after his mother, her more gentle nature, and mind like a machine. He'd already unlocked an Eagle Vision, rare for his age, but not unheard of.

Altair had unlocked three by the time they'd started their training as novices, though had told no one until. It brought his thoughts full circle, and why he felt like he'd just been… taken advantage of really. He knew that in normal society forcing someone to share genes was both illegal and considered rape. This however was not kinder society, this was the Brotherhood of Assassins. He'd had a chance to leave it when he'd been younger, he could have left and no one would have stopped him. But he'd stayed, like most did, and he was had to do what they told him to, those were the rules. Malik wouldn't have been so apposed to the idea if it had been anyone but Altair, after all, he and Jessabelle had been forced into it, joining without choice. At least there was potential for romance there though, not like with Altair. Pompous asshole.

That was really the whole issue, that it was Altair. He wouldn't have cared if it was anyone else. Literally it could have been anyone else. But because of who it was Malik felt like he'd just been defiled and felt more than a little disgusted in handing over genetic material to the doctor at the Nursery. He'd rather wipe this entire experience off his memory.

First though he wanted to take a shower.

Okay so this IS NOT THE END. The thing is though that I WILL NOT be posting this on , at all, other than this chapter. If you want to read the rest of this, including the already posted second chapter you need to go to my writing blog which is shotgunsandstars on Tumblr OR my AO3. AO3 stands for Archive Of Our Own, which is a fic site without rating restrictions. As of this very second it isn't posted on AO3 as I have a flight in a few hours and a shit ton more work to do but it'll be there later today or early tomorrow (9/11 or 9/12). So, comment if you want (those are always appreciated) but to find the rest you're ganna have to track it elsewhere.