Desmond's POV
I wake up and stretch. I go to grab my phone, but then I remember that I'm in Syria in 1191.
I stumble out of my room and Altaïr meets me in the hallway.
"Desmond, you're awake!" he says. I nod and he puts his arm around me.
"Let's go find Malik!"
Altaïr leads me to Malik's office and makes me sit down in a chair.
"Malik!" Altaïr calls, banging on the door inside the office. Malik looks out, rubbing his eyes.
"Is it time to train already?" he mumbles.
"Yep!"
"Wait, what?" I ask.
"If you're going to be in Syria with us, you might as well learn a thing or two from a master assassin," Altaïr says. Malik punches his arm.
"Novice."
Altaïr, Malik and I
"Wait, what?" I ask.
"We're going to train you! If you're going to be here in Syria with us, you might as well learn a thing or two," Altaïr says.
They lead me outside and into a training arena.
"Do you have your hidden blades with you?" Altaïr asks.
"I always do..." I say, unsheathing them. "Why?"
"Because if you didn't, you would either lose a finger or we wouldn't be able to train with them," Altaïr replies.
I look at his hand and see his missing ring finger.
"True. Anyway, let's start," I say.
Malik sits on the side and watches us fight. I lose miserably every single time, while Altaïr moves gracefully.
"We're going to get you even better at fighting," Malik says.
"You can try," I pant. Altaïr charges me again and I dodge him, but he trips me and I fall face-first into the dust. I groan and Malik and Altaïr kill themselves laughing.
"You guys suck..." I mutter. Altaïr looks down at me and grins.
"Don't worry about it, Des. You'll get better."
A/N: Yay Altaïr sass!
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Blasted to the Past: Sequel to Ripped from our Time
FanfictionThe assassins have gone back to their time. Desmond Miles believes everything is over and that all will go back to normal. But when the Animus has a serious jinx for the second time, things are put in reverse.
