This is an idea if, in fact, one of Altair's target's was a woman, what could happen. This is my first story, so please be kind in your comments.
The man in the white robes set the archer down, blood running out of his neck. The man's hidden blade retracted into it's sheath, concealed underneath the left sleeve of the assassin's garment. Following the grate to its inevitable edge, he dropped inside onto one of the pillows inside. The wooden frame before him invited him in, and he entered.
"Malik."
The younger man, Malik, was once a comrade of Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad, but after Altaïr rushed Robert de Sablé in Solomon's Temple, he tried to escape, but one of Robert's guards cut off his left arm. He has not forgiven Altaïr since. His black robes were ones of a Bureau keeper, tasked with giving permissions for assassinations.
"Ah, Altaïr. What havoc do you bring to Jerusalem now?"
"Al Mualim has given me the task of killing Angelica de Pinciotti, the local arms dealer to the Crusaders."
"Yes, I know of her... an annoyance, like a fly that will not desist."
"Al Mualim has told me that should her life end, the Crusaders' weapon supply will be severely diminished."
"She does help them move swords and armor from one place to another, but no one has done anything. It is time for action. What can you tell me of you plan?"
"After compiling evidence from informers, interrogating de Pinciotti's promoters, and stealing maps and letters from guards around the city, I have found she has private quarters in the Rich District. However, she meets with her buyers once a week at a market not far from there. Once she returns home, she will be alone. That is when I will strike. Is this sufficient?"
"No, it is not. But it will have to do."
Malik reached underneath the desk before him, procuring a swan's feather, white enough to show any blemish.
"Once you have finished your mission, cover the feather in her blood, and bring it back to me."
"Of course, Malik."
"You may take you leave, Altaïr. Do whatever you must to prepare for your attack."
"Thank you. I will return after Angelica de Pinciotti has fallen."
Suddenly, everything turns white, and Altaïr is alone in a blue expanse, with nucleotides and random data flashing around him. This is not a hallucination, but a mere loading screen as the machine called the Animus loads the next memory from the genes of one Desmond Miles, a decendent of Altaïr himself, and a former Assassin. Desmond was captured by Abstergo Industries, a company hoping to use Desmond's genetic memories to find the Templar treasure, something called a 'Piece of Eden.' Held hostage, he had no choice to comply, using the Animus to acquire Altaïr's memories through Desmond, but the memory they wanted could not be accessed straight away, so Desmond had to work his way up to it. This was Altaïr's fourth assassination after being stripped of his rank due to the events at the Temple. The loading screen passing, Desmond was given control of his ancestor once again, returning to the Assassin's Bureau.
The bells in the distance sounded the arrival of 3:00 P.M. on this, the 23rd day of May, 1191. Stretching after sleeping for a brief time of three hours, Altaïr climbed the wall of the Bureau and exited the building. Altaïr was a master at what he did, gracefully leaping from rooftop to rooftop, sending knives into the jugulars of any men who spotted him moving. At last, he reached the market, his mark dressed in beggar's clothing and a face mask to keep hidden, was meeting with several Crusaders in standard armor, looking for weapons for their mission.
"Angelica, you have promise us 300 longswords and 500 shields; have you collected our order?"
"My dear sir, why would a simple woman like me keep as great a man as King Richard waiting?"
"We just want to be sure you are not going to double-cross us."
"Me? Unfathomable. Were I to betray you, I know very well I would not survive for long afterwards. Your supplies will be waiting in crates just outside the city gates when you leave tomorrow morning."
"Good. Thank you, miss."
"Anytime."
The Crusaders walked away from de Pinciotti, unaware of the shadow above them, eyes locked onto Angelica as she moved through the crowd, Altaïr silent as the night as he followed. She was as unnoticeable as Altaïr was in public, just another person in the street, quietly slipping through a door guarded by two large men. Personal guards, Altaïr thought. Of course, he wasn't going to use the front door; the bedroom window was his goal. He waited outside the red curtain, having only slight visibility, holding until the opportune moment.
Angelica was a slender woman, Altaïr noticed, as she entered her room. She removed her crimson garment, revealing herself to Altaïr. Her skin was moderately tan, most likely from the sun received by mingling with the crowd. She had large, full breasts, her nipples hard from being so close to so many men at once. Angelica's legs were long, ending at her finely rounded ass as she walked away to her bathroom.
Closing the door behind her, the assassin slipped through the window, hidden blade at the ready as he approached the door, but stopped to listen at the door. He heard a splash, which was Angelica entering the tub she had set up before she left, then silence. He waited, letting her get comfortable, when suddenly he heard small splashes and moans coming from the bath, which was when he decided to move. What he found shocked him.
Angelica de Pinciotti, fully nude and soaked from top to bottom, was openly masturbating in the bath, rubbing her breasts and fingering herself, when a man in white shoved the door open and gazed upon her, causing her to stop and react, jumping from the water and wrapping a towel around her torso and grabbing a knife from the near by table.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?"
"My name is Altaïr, and I have been sent to kill you, Angelica de Pinciotti. You have been providing the Crusaders with weapons and armor, fueling the war with the Saracens, and therefore you must die."
"An Assassin... I should have known one of you would come for me eventually."
"Then why didn't you leave? Flee to Acre or Damascus, where you may not have been found?"
"I honestly don't know... maybe I was tired of running from you people. I have one question for you before you kill me, however, as a last request."
"Speak then, so I may finish my mission."
"How long has it been since you have last has sex?"
"What is this? Why do you ask me this question?"
"Because your body language betrays your feeling about this kill."
Angelica was staring at the bulge underneath Altaïr's belt, which he had been unaware of until that moment, then quickly tried to hide it from her.
"I should not feel this way about one such as yourself..."
"Such as myself? A young, beautiful woman, raw before you?"
Angelica then set her knife back down onto the table and dropped her towel, baring herself to Altaïr once more. He attempted to look away, but was unable, hypnotized by her breasts, his eyes dropping down to her dripping wet slit, shaved and clean.
