ASSASSIN'S CREED ONE-SHOTS!

#5

Haytham was busy trying not to fall off a rather narrow rafter when suddenly he was on a flat white floor that looked too clean to be natural. He checked that his hidden blade was still working, before looking up.

The room held nothing but a bed that seemed like it was made of clouds and a young man with his mouth open like a goldfish who was sitting in a chair.

"Where am I?" Haytham demanded icily. He made sure not to sound like he was going to murder the gentleman immediately. The man could be useful.

Haytham was careful to display his inner wrist, which held his currently extended hidden blade. The man's eyes flickered down, taking in the blade, and something in his demeanour changed.

The man practically leaped out of his seat and extended a hand.

"Desmond Miles."

Internally screaming with confusion, Haytham simply raised an eyebrow, sheathed his hidden blade and shook the man's hand.

"Haytham."

Desmond was obviously waiting for a last name, which was something Haytham wasn't going to give. He wasn't that dumb.

Desmond looked like he was about to say something, but then the door opened and Haytham froze. The room was plain and Haytham didn't have time to hide under the bed. Instead, he opted to draw his sword and it exited his sheath with a satisfying grating sound.

A man walked in, one who looked similar to Desmond, but there were differences. He was also significantly older, Haytham would guess that he was in his 60's. Haytham himself was only 30 years old, but he knew by now that age granted experience and wisdom.

Well, in most cases. Haytham's father hadn't exactly fit that model.

The man surveyed the room. It was pure white and Haytham was wearing his usual colour of choice – navy blue. Instead of immediately being spotted, the stranger's eyes passed over the exact spot where Haytham was preparing to pounce, seeming to ignore him.

Haytham could tell that the man wasn't ignoring his presence, but instead he legitimately couldn't see Haytham. He could see it in the man's eyes.

Desmond glanced at Haytham, confused at why his 'obvious' guest hadn't been noticed. The man unfortunately noticed.

"What is it Desmond?"

Don't say anything. Otherwise, I will murder everyone in this entire building.

Haytham's thoughts must have been evident in his face, as Desmond blinked, and answered.

"Thought I saw a spider. Why?"

Haytham wasn't religious, but he couldn't help but thank every deity he knew that Desmond hadn't fucked up. Haytham got the sense that Desmond often fucked up, judging from what he could guess about him.

The man glanced in Haytham's direction, obviously suspicious, but seemed to buy it.

"I heard you talking as I was walking by."

Shit.

"No. I wasn't. Maybe it's your old age."

The man glared at Desmond.

SHIT.

Desmond gave a cheeky smile, ignoring Haytham banging his head on the wall repeatedly in growing frustration at Desmond's inability to do anything right.