Chords of Past and Present

[Play Assassin's Creed Soundtrack – Masyaf Castle]

How sad.

I look upon this man, wise and revered by his people, despised and feared by his enemies, and all give him respect, willingly or grudgingly. By his word, armies were scattered, generals disappeared in the midst of battle, kings were slain in their beds. Whenever someone, be they crusader or caliphate soldier saw a shadow flickering in the corner of their far-off castles or forts, they would not sleep that night.

Now? His skin has become wrinkled. His grey beard reached his chest. Despite his muscular physique, he leans on a wooden stick. His eyes, peeking from underneath his hood, had become weary with age. But there was mistaking that this was the same man.

Make no mistake; pity is not what I feel. Quite the opposite. Perhaps it is the sight of what time does to all that saddens me?

A knock thuds throughout the domed room. The old man doesn't even twitch. Instead, he replies in a familiar deep voice. "Dakhal."

Into the room steps a younger man, wearing grey robe-like clothes and a similar hood. "Mawla, hum jahizun lak" he says, bowing to the elder.

The old man rises from his chair and heads out the room, with the young man walking in front of him. Down stairways and through halls they go, carved out of ancient stone. The mosque-styled windows and wind-holes cast dusk's light upon them and the mountain breeze gently blows through the halls. In the distance, I hear the voice of people from below.

Deep into the castle's depths they go, the sunlight no longer illuminating their way. Only the torches do so, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The elder and the young man soon approach a large wooden door, inscriptions of prayer carved all across it.

I could deny it no longer. I feel the passing of time eroding my body. Soon, Allah would call me into his fold and my people, who I have given my being to defend from the vultures that circle this region, would be left defenseless, ripe for the taking. I had to ensure that never happened. That my legacy would keep deterring enemies from conquest.

The answer to my dilemma was a very simple one.

With a mighty push, the doors opened to reveal a large hollow chamber. Faint candles ringed the walls, the shadows flickering on the cold stone floor. In the corners and rims, racks held weapons of all kinds. Books, scrolls and other assorted items filled wooden shelves and covered desks. Standing in front of them were a dozen young men and women, of various heights and skin tones, hooded and garbed in dark colors. Knives were holstered at their sides, and several held swords and clubs. One even held a pair of round discs. They were warriors, no doubt about that.

But it was the white masks on their faces that betrayed their true nature.

The young man stepped aside and the elder strode forward. He stood in front of the youths and they silently bowed to him as one.

His eyes scanned the group assembled before them, not an ounce of emotion in his expression. He raised his cane and taps it on the floor, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. Immediately, the masked youths turned away from the old man and leaped backward so that each of them was facing another, each one on opposite sides of the chamber.

Students.

"Bada'."

What I see is astonishing. The youths rushed at each other, not an ounce of hesitation in their movements. The sounds of swiping blades and clashing steel fill my ears. Their speed is extraordinary, their movements as fluid as water. I glimpse one dodging a pincer attack from two assailants by leaping above them and flipping in the air, using a level of agility I cannot dream of matching. As I watch the fight, I notice something: as they move, they flicker. But it is not their speed which does so. No, this is something I should have recognized right away.

Concealment. Rapid Concealment. Flickering in and out of the shadows in instants.

As Muhammad had his disciples, those were mine. Taken from slums and sacked villages and given a new chance at life, a chance to protect those that cared for them…or a chance to enact vengeance against those who callously destroyed all they had. Many accepted the offer. Some chose to abstain, content with living in the nearby villages and finding their own way in life. But these…these were the ones who would ensure that my work would endure.

One of the youths is struck from behind and falls. He tries to stand up, but his body betrays him and he lies down, defeated.

Trained in the ancient arts of assassination, practiced since the dawn of civilization and honed by my teachings.

Another is rained upon by a flurry of punches to the chest and he too falls down.

They became my enforcers, reaching every corner of this war-torn land.

With a cry, the one with the discs chops down on her opponent's neck, only to be smacked upside the head with a club.

No king or warlord was safe from them, no general could strategize against them. For how can one plan for a whisper of wind, ghosting through a tent?

More fall. Only half now remain.

Unlike the ignorant Crusaders who only allowed their lords and highborn education, my disciples were instructed in all manners of knowledge, be it the Quran or the sciences, from the elementary to the…esoteric.

A youth flickers so rapidly that it seems like there are two of him. He grabs the heads of two others and smashes them against each other, then promptly chopping them on the neck for good measure. The remaining three pause and quickly turn to the new threat, but it was too late. Like a coiled viper, the youth springs forward and draws his knife, vanishing and appearing with the same speed as before, making more afterimages. Two fall after a blow to the legs and neck. The last one bent backward, dodging the knife by a hair's breadth but the youth pivots on his toe and delivers the finishing blow.

Eleven bodies lie before the elder, moaning weakly. In the dimness of the torches, I make out blood marks on the floor. The last student is not without injury, however. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was bleeding somewhere.

The elder motions with his finger and the youth steps forward. He taps his cane and the youth removes his mask. Underneath is the face of a young boy, with tanned skin and dark hair. His green eyes stare resolutely at the elder, but there is something else there. Something that I rarely see in the mirror.

After a stare-off, the elder nods. He raises an arm and places it on the youth's head. He begins to chant something, but the words are…distorted. Splintered.

And for those who showed talent above and beyond their fellow fid'ai? To them, I applied an observation I made long ago, in the golden courts of Kahir. Great men fear great things. Vast armies, acts of nature, and names. A general invoking a name, be it Allah's or his liege-lord's, instills caution, if not outright fear, into his adversary. Rightly used, a name can carry more power than any army or storm. For did Allah not shape the world by naming all in Creation?

The conquerors and warlords shivered in fear at the sound of my name. I would make sure that they would keep doing so.

In order for my work to outlast me…Hassan-i Sabbah would outlast me.

-x-

"Where are you, motherfu-GLARGH!"

The criminal chokes on his blood as I pull the steel from his jaw. I give his blank-eyed body a small tap and it goes tumbling down. I then turn to stare at the mohawked man scrambling behind his desk, trembling so hard that it looks like he came out of a freezer.

How pathetic. To think he and his goons were so full of bravado not even a few minutes ago.

I walk over to him and pull him up by the scruff of his shirt. "Look at you," I say. "Where'd all that spunk go?"

"W-w-what are you talking about?" he asks, eyes darting up and down.

"Come on, you have a short memory or something?" I lean in closer, not that he knows it. "You and your little flunky over there were so eager to describe where your genitals were. Then the rest of your gang started making bets on who's going to do it better. I've heard of dick-measuring contests before, but I've gotta say, I'm impressed by how disgusting you all were."

He freezes up at the mention of his little group chat. "H-how did you-I, I mean, what the fuck are you talking about!?"

"Ah-ah-ah, no takebacks. Still, glad to see I was on the right track. I would say next time not take selfies of your…'exploits', but that would mean that there would be a next time for you." No one else was in the building. Good. I drop the Concealment and his skin whitens with horror as his eyes widen like dinner plates.

"Y-y-you're that-!" I plunge the knife into his skull and pull it out. His gaping expression twitches before I give him a good kick.

I turn around and take a deep breath, a small shiver tingling up my spine. It took a bit of digging, but it was done. One gang of molesters and rapists down and now lay bleeding on the floor. And the sun was just halfway down. Re-Concealing myself, I head out of the building.

'Thou art in high spirits, contractor.'

'Shouldn't I be?' I ask, walking down the road. The fresh breeze was always a welcome scent after a hit, especially after dealing with that kind of 'people'. 'A job well done, all things considered. Fewer scumbags to plague the streets is always a good thing.'

'True. Thy performance was swift and precise. Thy agility still needs work though.'

I sigh at the remark. Can't I enjoy one successful job without criticism? 'If you say so, Mawla.'

One stealthy train ride later and I am back in Hosu. I switch my outfit and spend a few minutes cleaning my knives. Since I did it two days ago, there's no need for me to sharpen them again. After making sure all of my equipment is in order, I head out again to the train station.

'Do thou have plans for thy next assignment?'

'Hm…I think maybe a few patrols around the area for the next week or two will do. If I don't find anything, I'll just head down to the Nine Rings and keep an ear out. I have a lot more time to spare, after all.' I'm still surprised by how I did it, but I managed to pass all of my final exams. Granted, my Japanese grammar still needed improvement (as Mom sharply pointed out to me when we got the report cards), but overall, I was a good student. As of March, I'll be a second-year. Yay.

'A satisfying accomplishment indeed. As I told thee before, thy education is not something to be forsaken. Had thy missions proven detrimental to thy studies, I would have made thee cease thy outings.'

I blink at that response. Mawla would've made me prioritize something other than assassination? That's…actually not unexpected. One thing I've learned about the wraith over these past months: above all, when he was alive, more than an assassin, a priest or even a scholar, he was a teacher.

'Well then, good thing I did do well.' With that said, I go down the station steps and board the train. As it speeds along the rails, I idly read some news – nothing that warranted a personal investigation – and watch a couple of videos on my new headphones, courtesy of my loot. Good thing I'm not a big spender of Mom's allowance.

The train stops and I disembark. Before I exit the station, I spot an ice cream shop that I sometimes frequent. It's not on the same level as those divine shops in Shibuya, but it serves its purpose well, especially considering its location. Well, I am feeling a bit peckish at the moment…

"Ritsu-boy, it's been a while!" Says a chubby man wearing a white apron, standing behind the counter. That's Korii, the owner. But thanks to his resemblance to an old cartoon Mom made me watch, I like to call him by another name.

"Frosty-san, just the man I wanted to see!" I greet him back as I approach the counter.

He scoffs mockingly and shakes his head. "I honestly don't know why I let you keep calling me that. If you were my nephew talking, your bottom would've been as red as a tomato."

"What can I say?" I shrug with a smile. "I'm charming that way."

"Cheeky brat," he mutters. Yeah, something that Mom unfortunately said in front of him some time back. "How's your mother doin' these days?"

"Same old, same old. Still busy dealing with assholes and tentpoles." I lean forward to look at the delicious ice cream behind the glass. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be having one scoop of cookies-and-cream with one scoop of banana."

"Ooh, banana! Feeling adventurous today, aren't we?" He says as he slides the glass open.

"It's vacation time and I'll be a second-year soon. I can be a little adventurous." I reply and place a few coins on the counter.

"If you say so. Congrats on that, by the way. Never had a doubt." He finishes scooping up the frozen treat and hands it to me in a cone. "There you go, that'll be…ah, thank you."

"Thank you, Frosty-san. Have a good day!" I take the cone and start to head for the exit, only to be stopped by a "hey, wait!"

I turn around to see the pointy-nosed vendor giving me a look of…was that concern? "Be careful out there kid. I'm sure you've watched the news, but things are dangerous out in the streets. Ever since that killer showed up…" he sighed and shook his head. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Oh, if he only knew…

"Don't worry Frosty-san. I'm not a reckless idiot." I give him a smile and exit the station, licking my ice cream.

'Thou art partially correct. Thou are not a reckless idiot; only sometimes.'

I twitch at the barb. Please don't shoot down my self-esteem while I'm partaking in nirvana, Mawla. And on that note… 'Did you have any frozen treats in your time? I know that the Romans had one and I think the Chinese had some too.'

'Hmm…there was this drink called sharbat. I remember partaking in it several times during my youth in Qom. It was a pleasant way to deal with the sweltering heat, especially in the tabestan months. I encountered it again during my time in Kahir, along with a dessert called faloodeh. I cannot remember much of that one; only the highest members of the court partook in it.'

Huh. Now I'm interested. 'How did they even manage to store ice in that heat?'

'There were methods of refrigeration that proved effective. One method that even Alamut possessed was called a yakhchal. It was a domed structure that, through air holes or wind towers, could keep foodstuffs and even ice cool, be it in the heat or otherwise. An invaluable resource for any town or city.'

I couldn't want to stop the smile that was stretching on my face, even if I wanted to. I loved these moments. 'Huh, I've been remiss in my history diving. Then again, I don't remember focusing that much on food. But now you've got me curious. Maybe I can find a recipe for those things online and make them at home.'

The old wraith goes silent. Did I say something wrong?

'…do as thou wish.'

…odd.

I keep licking and nibbling on the ice cream until (to my dismay) it vanishes from the cone. I scarf down the remainder of the sculpted waffle quickly and keep walking until I reach the apartment. Inside, I throw the gym bag down on my room's floor and turn on the computer. Hm, what to do, what to do.

Eh, to hell with it. I haven't done a good history reading in a while. But what period to pick? The Crusades are definitely an option but…I feel like maybe trying something different. Or something I haven't touched in a while. I tap my chin before shrugging and pulling up an alphabet roulette – yes, those are a thing online. I press the wheel and it spins and spins until it lands on 'R'.

…I know just the subject. I haven't checked up on Old Firenze, and I feel guilty.

After a couple of hours of perusing through ebooks, I hear the door open. I look up from the screen and blink in surprise at the sight of my mother walking through the living room.

"Mom?"

She turns to me and gives me a smile, albeit one laced with tiredness. Her suit didn't look very well-kept and her hair was messed up on the top. "Hi, Ritsu."

Damn she was a mess. And she's here early. "Is everything alright?"

She lets out a sigh. "Yeah, just…big legal issue. I won't bore you with the details but I had to go through a lot of lawbooks and old cases and I'm not even done. Then there was the whole episode with the ladder and…ugh." She rubs her forehead and grumbles. "I swear if I see another three-ring binder…" But she quickly smiles again. "Good news though, I'm free tomorrow. I managed to turn it into a shift job. Do you wanna do anything special? Maybe get your textbooks ahead of time?"

I scratch my head in thought. That does seem like a good idea. Besides, it's spending time alone with Mom. I could never refuse that. "I dunno about anything special, but getting textbooks sounds like a good idea. It'll save me time, that's for sure."

She keeps smiling and nods. "Great. Now if you'll excuse me…" she suddenly approaches me and engulfs me in a hug. I fight the urge to push her back – a reflex I gained courtesy of Mawla – and after a moment of trepidation, I lean into the embrace, feeling her breath tickling my white hair.

She holds me like this for a minute before she pulls back and ruffles my hair. "Thanks, kiddo, I needed that." With that, she turns around and leaves the room, no doubt to make herself coffee. Meanwhile, I just sit in my chair, wondering what happened.

…oh well. If she wants to tell me, she'll tell me. I certainly have no room to talk.

The next day, I find myself standing once more in a very familiar and crowded place: Kiyashi Mall. Apparently, Mom wanted to give her suit to that tailor for fixing, not that I blame her considering her previous state. Which was where she was at the moment and I'm just standing there, idly waiting. I'm flicking through my phone and keeping an ear out when another familiar sight catches my eye. It's that music store, Mosaizuri. And talking to that cashier – Checkers I think – was that girl, Jiro.

Wow. Am I that much of an introvert that I remember the names of random people?

I look in the shop's direction before I shrug. Eh, what the heck. It wouldn't hurt to say hi, and maybe I can find some interesting music. I downloaded the Kanun disc onto the computer. So I cross the aisle and enter the shop, drawing the attention of the two.

She greets me and waves. "Hey, old man! What's up?"

I slightly wince. "Hello to you too, Jiro-san. Like I told you before, my hair is natural."

"Really? From the way you're slouching it looks like you forgot your cane." I send a flat glare at her, to which she just smiles.

"Ha-ha. Very funny." I give a nod of acknowledgment to Checkers and he too greets me with a wave. "So…uh, how's life?"

Her smile grows wide. "It's great actually. Guess what happened?"

"…I've got nothing. What?"

"I got into U.A!"

I blink in surprise. That's right, she said she was trying to get in. "Oh, uh, congratulations! That's amazing!"

"I know, right!?" She laughs. "My parents were bouncing off the walls the whole night when I got the letter. And believe me, it was worth it."

"I believe you," I say as I chuckle at her enthusiasm. "I've gotta say I'm curious. What was the entrance exam like?"

At that question she pauses and shakes her head, letting snort. "It was insane. There was this really difficult written exam that I studied months for; I don't even want to remember what was on it. And then there was the physical exam…oh boy."

"Now I'm really curious."

"We had to fight giant robots."

…

"What?"

"Heh. My parents reacted the same way. There was this huge stadium filled with abandoned buildings and robots that we had to destroy to rack up points, and if we didn't blow up enough of them we wouldn't pass. Not only that, but I found out there was a hidden part of the exam called rescue points. I got some after I saved this guy who looked like his brain short-circuited." She shakes her head. "Crazy thing about it is that I only knew about that when I got the acceptance letter."

I stare at her as my brain processes her little info dump. Eventually, I resume talking. "Let me get this straight: your test was to fight giant robots? And that determined whether or not you got into the best Hero School in the country?"

Jiro bit her lip. "…okay, that does sound kind of stupid when you say it like that, but it is what it is."

"I'm not doubting your word, Jiro-san," I reply. "It's just that…what if someone doesn't have a Quirk that can let them destroy robots? Or a Quirk that can inflict damage one way or another?" That sounded incredibly shortsighted. I had a Quirk with zero offensive capabilities and I managed to take down a Hero. A wolf in Hero's clothing, but my point still stands.

She shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe there's a hidden button on them or something? I'm almost sure that there were other people with non-destructive Quirks."

Okay, that makes more sense. But still!

"What about you?" she asks. "Anything exciting or life-changing happen to you?"

Sort of. "No, not really. Just managed to finish the first year of high school."

"Oh, that's something." She looks down and starts to idly rub her dangling jacks. "Hey, are you from Tokyo?"

I tilt my head at the question. "Yeah, why?"

She pauses for a moment. When she resumes talking, her tone is quieter. "You…know about that video, right? The one with the killer and the fake Hero?"

Ah. Danger! Sensitive topic approaching! Man battle stations! "I find it hard to believe there's anyone in Japan who doesn't know."

She lightly snorts. "Point. What's it like out there, on the streets?"

"…the same as always. You don't hear about life stopping because someone died. I mean, plenty of Villains appear all the time and the nation doesn't go into a panic over each one."

"I know that," she responds. "It's just that…it's gonna sound stupid. I'm a Hero-in-training, this kind of thing shouldn't bother me."

"I've heard a lot of stupid things in my life, so I'll be the judge of that. What is it?"

She looks up at me. "How can you walk the street knowing that there's a killer like that on the loose?"

…yeah, the truth is absolutely out of the question. Not that I ever intended to tell her. "Could you elaborate on that?"

She nods. "I've read some news reports and overheard a few things from my, former now, classmates. This guy, whoever he is, has been killing people before he attacked that Hero. And he just keeps doing it while the police or the Heroes can't find him. Don't get me wrong, Domino was a piece of shit, but I'm…if it was me, I'd be thinking about it a lot more. Even my folks looked scared when they saw that footage."

How do I go about this?

"You're thinking like a Hero student, not a civilian. To the masses, there are more important things in life like getting on time to your job or paying the bills. Hearing about or even seeing a killer on the internet is more…disconnected, I think...than say, having someone close to you die because of him."

Now here comes the big one. Normally I wouldn't even consider saying this to anyone except Mawla, but right now my curiosity is screaming at me to at least try. Especially since she's a Hero Student.

"Besides, the kind of people he kills? I've looked them up and I've gotta say, yeah, he was brutal but…maybe they had it coming."

Jiro gives me an incredulous stare. "They were people. No matter what they did, they didn't deserve to die!"

Oh, you sweet summer child…if you had seen what I saw, you wouldn't be so quick to say that. Walking garbage can easily look human. "Again, you're thinking like a Hero, not a civilian. Those kids from the apartments would say otherwise. Maybe even call him a Hero."

The girl flinches at my remark. When that video leaked, the police released everything about Domino's trafficking ring, including the 'station' where I first struck. A few images were released to the public and that's it, but it didn't take a genius to piece together what those kids went through. I'm still surprised I was sensible enough through my rage to threw them that phone.

"You're probably right," she says, pinching her jacks. "But it's still wrong. And this time I know it's the Hero in me talking. A Hero saves lives, he doesn't take them." She gives me a firm stare, her posture unyielding.

A silent sigh escapes my lips. I expected that. It was obvious from the get-go. I mean, she wants to be a Hero, someone who saves lives; of course she'll think that it's wrong!

Still, my fingers twitch.

What was I even thinking?

The girl holds her stare for a few moments before it softens. "Sorry about that."

I wave at her. "It's fine. But why ask me? I'm basically a total stranger."

She idly taps her chin before replying. "I don't know. Maybe it's because of that. An unbiased perspective?" A grin then quickly appears on her face. "Besides, with your age, you've seen a lot more than I do."

Okay, now it's getting ol-dammit! Even my thoughts are becoming addicted! "Ha-ha," I deadpan. "How amusing."

Jiro keeps grinning at me before pursing her lips and pulling out her phone. She unlocks it and hands it to me.

I look at the device. "Um…what?"

She sighs. "Your number, old man."

I blink in surprise again. "Y-you want my number?" I ask, pointing at the phone. "Why?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. You don't seem like a bad guy; if anything, you look like the type who just hangs out at his house all day."

Partially untrue, but ow.

"And who knows? Maybe a Hero could use an unbiased perspective."

I keep looking at the phone. This could be a serious risk. A possible hole that could lead straight to me and I really don't want that.

But…on the other hand, a contact who studies inside a Hero School – especially U.A, where some pretty notable Heroes graduated from – could prove useful. I've learned to avoid rushing in blind, and if I'm being offered a chance to possibly learn very valuable intel, I should take it.

So hesitantly, I take the phone from her hand and type in my number. But before I can type my name, she swipes it from me and quickly types in something. With that same smarmy grin, she shows me the contact name.

Come on.

"There! Now I'll always know when to ask the wise Ritsu-oji for advice!" She skips out the shop and waves at the cashier. "Bye Checkers! I'll pay you through the phone!"

"I AM NOT AN OLD MAN!" I shout, but she just laughs and disappears into the depths of the mall.

A chuckle draws my attention to the cashier with the black-and-white hair. "Told you she was special. I'm really happy for her. If there's anyone I know who deserves to go to that school, it's her."

I nod, though a pulse of melancholy fluttered in my chest. "Yeah."

He pauses for a moment and looks at me, but says nothing. "So," he claps his hands and flashes me a checker-toothed smile. "What can I do for you?"

I snap out of my brooding and look at him. "Oh uh, do you have any old music like that disc from last time?"

He taps his chin and hums. "Well, you can always look in that section but…" he bends down and places a cardboard box on the counter. "A friend of mine gave these to me, saying he didn't want them anymore. I was planning on adding them to the catalog so…" He opens the flaps to reveal stacks of discs. "If you find anything you like, just give it to me and I'll mark it for a payment."

"How much?" I ask, peering into the box.

He shakes his head. "Not much. Those kinds of discs aren't very popular so they sell for far less than a modern album."

"Good to know." I remove a pile and idly rifle through the discs, seeing if there's anything interesting. There are a few old ones, like classical music or old American blues, but nothing too eye-catching. It's on my third stack that I find something.

Homo fugit velut umbra.

"What about this?"

He looks at the disc. "2000."

I look at the cover and snort. "1800. That's the original price."

The cashier stares at me before he chuckles. "Fine, fine. 1800 it is."

I hand him over two 1000 Yen bills and he gives me the change. "See you around, kid."

"Thanks." With that, I turn around and return to the tailor's…and see Mom standing there with a sly smile.

Oh no.

-x-

Ritsu Ogawa (Assassin - Hassan-i Sabbah)

Stats:

Strength: D

Agility: C

Endurance: D

Mana: C (Only when using Power of the Valley. Otherwise, nonexistent.)

Luck: C

Skills:

Presence Concealment D: The ability to hide from others. A poor level for any Assassin, but against ordinary criminals and some intelligent ones it works well.

Throwing (Dagger) B and Throwing (Retrieval) B: The expertise for throwing projectile weapons; in this case, daggers. His daggers have the same destructive power as firearms when thrown, typically spelling certain death for human targets. He can retrieve them to his hand with but a mere gesture

Information Erasure C: Erases all traces of the user's identity, physical or digital, after leaving a scene of assassination. It does not hide the user's identity in any other situation, and clues can be pieced together to deduce identity. If the user's identity is discovered, then the effects of the skill weaken. Rank increased thanks to multiple exposures outside of Presence Concealment.

Power of the Valley of Death C: A unique connection forged as a result of finding a relic of Alamut. Assassin can draw power from the Valley to perform certain skills he would otherwise be incapable of doing.

Quirk - Super-Hearing C: A power gained as a result of evolution. Allows the user to hear precise details within a certain range. Can extend the range in exchange for loss of detail. Also alerts the user of incoming danger provided they can react to it.

Noble Phantasm:

Zabaniya - Delusional Judgment Rank C

An 'ultimate assassination technique' bearing the same name as the angels of hell, a title which all previous 'Old Men of the Mountain' used for their own techniques. Unlike them however, who were forged by extensive modification of the Hassans' bodies, this technique is a reflection of the Assassin's desire to inflict what he deems true judgment. Calling upon his unique connection to the Valley in the Shadow of Death, Assassin drags his target's soul to the Valley, where the First Hassan awaits them. Their soul is laid bare before the Great Founder and should they be found guilty of whatever sin Assassin finds them to have committed, the flames of Gehenna will burn away their soul and body until naught but ash remains.