[b][center]Chapter 14: Meditation of an Assassin[/center][/b]

Lightning crackled across the sky, wind blowing at dangerous speeds. Rain was continuously pouring down from crimson clouds. It was apparently often like this now.

Sprinting across one of the rooftops, she tried her best not to stumble, be it from the rain or her new leg.

She was lucky her automail had been attached. It helped to avoid phantom limb syndrome, which she assumed would be a source of aggravation for Strongarm in the future. Still, the strange feel of the limb, added to the uneven weight, was making it all difficult to get back to work, not to mention her extensive time out of action leading her muscles to atrophy, her stamina to decrease. Well, at least she had her mask on. Best to keep her appearance unknown.

Abigail dove for the next rooftop, ready to roll to the best of her ability upon it.

Too short. She couldn't get enough spring on that one, it seemed, not enough to manage a good landing, or rather any at all. It was by sheer luck that she managed to grab the ledge, though her body slammed into the side of the building. She gasped as the wind was knocked clear out of her lungs, feeling a shooting pain as her shoulder was almost dislocated.

With both of her hands here, she had to pull herself up, had to make it up before she lost her stamina.

...or she would have, if a shadow hadn't come over her, reaching down to grab the back of her shirt. It was a leather glove that extended a few inches past the wrist, curling over to cover down to the wrist once more. Over each of the fingers and thumb were silver, metallic plates along the backs. A metal cestus, it seemed. Good for close quarters combat as well as to get better grip for parkour.

Gripping her, the hand yanked her up on to the roof, dropping her on her stomach. Malik "Pax" A-Sayf looked down at her, watching her slowly get to her feet. "One thing we will work on is retraining you in the use of your leg."

She scowled at that, irritated by his tone. "Help me, or mind your own business. I'll say it again, Pax." She glared at him. "How in the [i]hell[/i] did you make it out of that fight alive? Is she dead?"

The Assassin simply ignored the question it seemed, holding up his hands. "Hit me as hard as you can."

Okay, he was beginning to irritate her to no end. He wouldn't even acknowledge the question! "Fine." Her curiosity could wait. Maybe she could punch some kind of answer out of him. Holding back one hand, she punched directly at his open hand. It was weaker than usual, and caused her more pain, but it would do until she could redevelop her skill. On his nod for her continue, she kicked him with her human leg, a roundhouse kick that he blocked with the cestus. Due to the uneven weight, she stumbled back on her bionic leg before she could go again.

The smallest grin. He actually thought she was doing pretty well for a start after her injury and so long out of commission. "Again."

=====

[i]One year later...[/i]

A clash of metal against metal. A grunt, and the sound of a body falling was audible, along with a grunt and metal clattering to the ground.

Abigail spat on the ground, getting up on to her hands and knees. She picked up the simple iron knife on the ground, and stood, holding it blade-up, but low to her side in her right hand.

She had redeveloped her strength and aim, adapted to her new leg in many ways, improved her stamina to a high level once more. Still, she knew that she needed to work on another type of combat now: swordplay. She concentrated on short blade combat, since she could change to her close quarters combat easily.

She watched her teacher holding his own, more ornate short blade backhanded, turning it back and forth in front of his face as it glinted in the red moonlight, seeming every bit as deadly as it had proven to be time and again.

Without wasting another second, she charged at him, feigning a slash to one side that he blocked with his one hand and blade before going for a stab in the direction of his chest. Swiftly, the trainer jumped back, holding his blade in front of him still. She had missed, but he was ready for the next strike.

Rather than discouraged or even planning her next move, the automail-equipped Runner lunged once more, the knife clashing with the dagger. An upward slash from the right leg to left shoulder met a horizontal block, the same from the opposite side meeting another and a shove of the woman backwards. Two horizontal slices in alternating directions were weld back by a single vertical block from Walters, who followed up with an upward slash and into one back downwards before a hard thrust forward, all of which were deflected or blocked. She jumped over Malik's low sweep, trying to stomp on the blade with her metal foot to no success, trying to hit him with alternating left and right slashes in a 	quicker cycle, but he rolled aside, standing beside her to continue. Swiftly, she slashed at him upward from her right hip to left shoulder, his blade locking with hers. For several seconds, they remained locked, before they shoved off, back to the exercise.

On and on this went. Sometimes she would fall, others she would merely be knocked back. Hours of work. Finally, their blades locked once more, a grinding against one another...

[i]Click.[/i]

Slowly, still forcing herself against him, she looked down at the blade-holding arm. There was a long, metallic pipe on the hidden blade bracer, pointed directly at her throat from this angle. She knew for a fact that he could kill her with a flick of his wrist, put a bullet straight through her throat.

"That...that's cheating!" she spat, backing off after calling him out. She was panting, sweat beading on her forehead from the fight so far, the hours-long training.

He was very calm in his response, clicking the hidden pistol out of range once more by curling his hand down. "Your enemies will not care for fairness in combat. Even the self-professed [i]gentleman[/i] seneschal-turned-high priest," the words held a lot of venom, but not aimed at her, "would say he will be fair, but cheat his way through. Be as ruthless as I am, as brutal as necessary. Did you not learn as much from your teacher on your world, from you life in the sewer?

"Again," he commanded, firm as any teacher would be in her opinion. "And this time, knock [i]me[/i] down. There is no such thing as fair play."

Slowly, the woman nodded. Her grip tightened on the knife, knuckles going white beneath bandages to cover bleeding from yesterday's session. Slowly, she held it out slightly to her side, waiting for him to be the one to approach.

With the slightest smirk, he stepped a bit closer, the blade back in position.

=====

[i]Two years later, twelve years after the fall of the[/i] Archangel...
[i]An alley, Folkvangr[/i]

Well, she'd found it. After following his trail for an hour, she'd found the symbol of an ornate [url=http://images.wikia.com/assassinscreed/images/c/c3/Eye.png]eye of some sort[/url] on a wall, carved in lightly. Due to her vision, it was all outlined in red. Looking at it, she crossed her arms to wait.

Same training regimen day in and day out for years. Telekinesis to close quarters combat to blades to gunplay to parkour. Every single thing she had known before, and improved upon besides. Granted, it was difficult to see what a "day" was anymore.

Today was slightly different. She had to learn something new, something that the Assassin among them had kept trying to explain to her time and again. The method of "piercing the illusion." Whatever that meant.

"It is time to begin."

Abigail didn't even flinch anymore. How he managed to sneak up on her, let along use parkour in the first place, with one arm was completely beyond her, but also was not her problem. He had also done this so many times that it wasn't even surprising anymore. Okay, maybe a little, but not as much. "Why are you even trying to teach me? You're the Assassin. I'm not."

"Your instincts. They paint your surroundings red where you should go, why I carved that in rather than simply leaving a hidden message to find." The Assassin walked around to her side, dressed from head to toe in his disguise as a priest of Diana, albeit including his bracer. "If you were to imagine other objects as obstacles for your use, such as people, you may be able to establish something similar." He pointed to the blank wall behind him, made from a reflection-less metal. Due to the state of things down here, it was likely the lack of reflection was due to grime.

The young woman did so, albeit with some reluctance. Twenty-three, and still learning things to add on to her Running. Whatever it took to survive. She held more respect for Malik than most others, yes. Their somewhat similar skill sets and these daily training sessions helped that, as did some talks with him when he asked about her past to get to know her better as a person as much as a coworker. In a sense, she guessed he was like a very annoying older brother. Okay, over a decade older, but older nonetheless, and not quite a father figure. At least Simon didn't pretend they were a bickering couple like he did her and that idiot, Adán.

[i]We are one,[/i] the Assassin sometimes told her, as if remembering someone else. [i]As we share in the glory of our victories, so too do we share the pain of defeat. In this way, we grow closer. We grow stronger.[/i]

Still, staring at a [i]wall[/i]? For [i]what[/i]? What was she looking for? "Why are you wasting my time with this?" she spat. "We need to go back to the normal training, soon as possible."

"Ignore all outside influences." She [i]was[/i] listening, and trying besides, but his talk wasn't helping. "See the truth. Free yourself of impediments to your understanding."

The Runner opened her mouth to talk back about his incessant "philosophical"attempts at aid that only served to distract her. Did he want her to succeed at all? Still, he was ready, apparently, and had a preemptive response.

"You will have difficult circumstances next time. Do not be so proud that you will fall again." A frown more felt than seen, silence for a moment. "Arrogance lost me more than you know. Family."

She almost softened at that. He almost never talked about his former life with her, but never did so with anyone else. A "Kadar" he sometimes mentioned, a "grandmaster," more. But then he went on.

"We need to keep you trained in difficult settings, or you will have a repeat of your time with the Staff of Eden and Diana Zivaku herself."

Now [i]that[/i] very nearly set her off. He would sink to that kind of low to anger her, invoke her chagrin? No, she wouldn't go for it, even though she ground her teeth against one another in silence. Staring at the wall still, she took a deep breath. [i]Calm down, clear your mind, let it happen, let something happen, anything.[/i]

As instructed, she remained watching the wall for several hours. She tried to clear her mind, to not think of anything at all but what she was looking at, what she had to see, this "truth."

...no success came whatsoever. Perhaps she truly [i]was[/i] unable to learn. In frustration, she finally gave up. "I can't do it," she spat, hating herself for giving up like this. "You aren't like me. Different genetics and all."

The Assassin frowned at her failure. Perhaps Kira was right, and she truly could not learn that tactic. Or perhaps just not yet. "You will require more time to fully grasp this skill. Or possibly just the correct stimulus."

There was irritation in her words, the notice of her own lack of self-confidence concerning this. "Is there anything [i]else[/i], Pax? Or are we going back to the usual? I remember you said the trai--"

A nod cut her off, and he looked over at the Eye of Horus behind her. She followed his gaze, staring into it. Did it truly relate? Was this why he had chosen this marking this time? "What is it?" She turned back around...

...and he wasn't there. Again. Well, wasn't this just [i]great[/i]. Grunting in annoyance, she ran to one of the walls, climbing up it to a handhold before starting up, off to their established training location.