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Ryoko ([personal profile] dreamer_ryoko) wrote2011-09-12 12:28 pm
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In which Ryoko is a Templar

Dream time.

As it began, it was in the perspective of an older Assassin, much resembling a Revelations-era Ezio Auditore. In an old, half-ruined fortress overgrown with grass, trees and vines, the Assassins were fighting a losing battle with the Templars. The man knew it, and, ordering a retreat, planned a series of traps to hold the enemies off. He blew up several wooden structures as he fled, sending half the fortress crumbling down around the Templars. As he reached the flying machine to use for his escape, something between Da Vinci’s model and a more modern plane, he saw an Assassin who’d stayed behind. In reality, this Assassin (who happened to be me) was a Templar who’d infiltrated their ranks. It only took a second for him to turn his back, and a crossbow bolt to the back of the head quickly ended the mission. But my work wasn’t done—I had other missions, time sensitive tasks that needed to be done. I took the plane.

Landing in a half-abandoned airport inexplicably in the middle of a city, I left behind the aircraft and headed into the building, which was itself partially a hotel. Carefully climbing through the storage and luggage areas, I found a hole in the wall that led me into an office area. A bit late in noticing there were people in the office, I managed to keep a cool head and continued walking through the area, wondering why the hallway floor was made of something one might expect in scaffolding or a catwalk, that kind of metal surface with holes in it. Somehow I got through with no problems, but something told me I couldn’t relax. I half-ignored it as I came upon a small meeting between three or so people, maybe office workers having breakfast together and chatting. I would have passed them by had there not been a guard who spotted me, and I moved into the room to sit down as if I belonged there. Thankfully, the group, seeing me only as a young woman who was new to the office, offered me a cup of tea and a share of their breakfast, which I was glad to take them up on. A safe area with the chance to relax and regain my energy? Why wouldn’t I take it up? But I soon realized I couldn’t stay. The hotel-slash-airport—and the public entrance—closed in five minutes. Trying to down the tea in once gulp, I thanked them and went on my way, now much more aware of the urgency of my escape.

I moved from the office into another area, a mail-sorting office. I undoubtedly wasn’t supposed to be there, but the large stacks of packages and pipes on the wall gave me ample opportunity to stay undetected. It was time to go up. And so, remaining out of sight, I climbed up several feet, making my way across the room via the large pipes and half-walls that separated sections of the area. I reached the end of the large room at last, moving into a more public area, filled with shops for tourists. But there was one more obstacle between me an my escape—more guards. Apparently, after the man in the office had spotted me, he’d somehow found out that I wasn’t supposed to be there, and had called in about my intrusion. But I thought quickly. There was a bathroom nearby whose entrance led outside, away from the eye of the guards. The wall enclosing it on my side had just enough space at the top for me to slip through. I climbed up, dropped into the bathroom when none were looking, and walked calmly out onto the crowded street, putting my hood up. I escaped.