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Description
He was used to blood. It was nothing too special if he was badly wounded, drenched in blood, spitting some of the liquid onto the floor while cursing in every language he learned to know while his missions.

It happened once in a while, when he was too careless for even one second.
But right now was the first time he remembered, that he felt so alone.

He sat with his back towards the wall, feet stretched awkwardly, his right hand clutched over the bleeding wound at his side. He whimpered at the pain that shot through him when he tried to pull the arrow out of the wound. It had been about three hours since he got caught while escaping after killing his target. But still the guards were running around like crazy, just outside of the house ruins he used to hide.

Damn Garnier had just too much bodyguards to kill all of them in one go, as he noticed. He had only forgotten to murder one of the goddamn snipers on the roof – whose arrow hit him right away. The only thing Altair had in mind afterwards: run.

"Shit…" he murmured, world spinning around him, not wanting to stop. His vision was getting blurry, even foggy, while he just sat there, trying to keep his breath calm. Blood dripped down from his eye brows, into his eyes. He couldn't keep them open any longer.

He was so tired…

He felt his mind drifting away. There was only one thing that he noticed before falling into unconsciousness.

A silent whisper of "Brother…" and a warm hand on his neck, searching for his pulse. Then he was surrounded by black nothingness…

There was only one feeling surrounding him, one color too. Everything was of a warming gold, changing into dark brown after some time. It was a color, he had often seen before. One, which in his opinion belonged to only one person.

"Malik…"

Description
He was used to blood. It was nothing too special if he was badly wounded, drenched in blood, spitting some of the liquid onto the floor while cursing in every language he learned to know while his missions.

It happened once in a while, when he was too careless for even one second.
But right now was the first time he remembered, that he felt so alone.

He sat with his back towards the wall, feet stretched awkwardly, his right hand clutched over the bleeding wound at his side. He whimpered at the pain that shot through him when he tried to pull the arrow out of the wound. It had been about three hours since he got caught while escaping after killing his target. But still the guards were running around like crazy, just outside of the house ruins he used to hide.

Damn Garnier had just too much bodyguards to kill all of them in one go, as he noticed. He had only forgotten to murder one of the goddamn snipers on the roof – whose arrow hit him right away. The only thing Altair had in mind afterwards: run.

"Shit…" he murmured, world spinning around him, not wanting to stop. His vision was getting blurry, even foggy, while he just sat there, trying to keep his breath calm. Blood dripped down from his eye brows, into his eyes. He couldn't keep them open any longer.

He was so tired…

He felt his mind drifting away. There was only one thing that he noticed before falling into unconsciousness.

A silent whisper of "Brother…" and a warm hand on his neck, searching for his pulse. Then he was surrounded by black nothingness…

There was only one feeling surrounding him, one color too. Everything was of a warming gold, changing into dark brown after some time. It was a color, he had often seen before. One, which in his opinion belonged to only one person.

"Malik…"