Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

A/N: New Year present to all you AC fans out there. Hope you had a great year and that this one will be even better! Inspired, once again, by These New Puritans' song "We Want War." I kept the number of characters down to a minimum of those I play most often, so I apologize if there is a character you like missing from this story. This is a very 'what if' scenario that popped into my head, rather dark and fairly gloomy, so if you'd prefer to read something less traitorous to the Assassins, I suggest you read something else. xP For all others, by all means, continue.

Gather, comrades, and hear me now…

Caha cartwheeled gracefully off of the caravan that had been her home for the past few months as she traveled with a performance troupe to Rome. She giggled and twirled her daggers as her brother, Cahin, slunk off the same wagon, the quivering of his shoulders betraying his eagerness for what was to come to his sister, and she knew exactly the kind of grin on his face behind his silver jester's masque. She lifted a dainty hand to her own Columbina masque, shielding her eyes from the setting sun, and as she looked at the ruins of the Colosseo looming in the distance, her red-painted lips broke into a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Your skills are required to defend Roma from her greatest adversary…

Il Lupo was not fond of the dottore Malfatto; in fact, the prowler had been dispatched some time ago to kill the man who was terrorizing the courtesans of the Rosa in Fiore, leaving gruesome murders in his wake. Yet the Wolf found himself in reluctant companionship with the doctor, growing more uneasy by the minute as he glanced sideways at the short, pale beak and eyes, and he wondered what the face behind that medico della peste masque looked like as they silently made their way through the lengthening shadows toward the Coliseum.

There is a group of scum within our city, slinking through the shadows like rats…

Fiora Cavazza brushed her hair out of her eyes as she rode on horseback toward the Coliseum, her companion, Lia de Russo, riding hard on her own black steed beside her. The Courtesan smiled as the citizens of Roma scattered before her, the Smuggler making sure no guards would follow them as she slit their throats with the blade atop her forearm. This of course threw the citizens into even more panic, but as Lia nearly shrieked with laughter, Fiora flicked open her iron war fan to join in the fun. After all, what they were doing now was nothing compared to the bloodbath to come.

They call themselves a Brotherhood of Assassins…

When the first stone was thrown, none of the Brotherhood nor their allies expected it. It happened when the assassino Guido Tuccerini went up to the roof to retrieve a message from a carrier pigeon for the Grand Master, Maestro Ezio Auditore. The minute he opened the door to the coop, a dozen small bodies fell at his feet in a flurry of feathers. He jerked away, startled at the flood of birds in various states of disarray, and as he knelt down to inspect the birds, he noticed a piece of vellum rolled up and sealed with a simple cross. The cross of the Templar Order.

Your orders are…

As soon as Guido had brought the note to Il Mentore, Ezio immediately knew what the three words meant. He called to his recruits to be ready to ride, and within minutes they departed, riding through the streets of Rome until they reached the Coliseum.

Find them.

Shadowed forms flitted between the dilapidated pillars of the Colosseo, slipping on silent feet to position themselves in advantageous locations where they could easily kill their targets. The outline of red jasper set in iron crosses flashed in the light of the setting sun, a gruesome omen to all who knew the truth behind the crimson insignia.

Kill them.

As they glanced around the shadowed ruins, Ezio and his recruits felt a thick tension in the air. In particular, Alessandro Albarella couldn't help but feel extremely uneasy, and he glanced to his sister-in-arms. Ghita Gargani walked beside her partner, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Suddenly, there was a brief instant where she felt something like a pinprick stab into her shoulder, but she was so used to pain from the many missions she'd been on as a recruit in the Brotherhood that she took little notice. It was only when she felt a crushing pain in her chest and saw the ground rushing up to meet her that she had the fleeting realization of the poison that had been injected into her system. Alessandro, incredulous, made to catch his comrade, but the swift slice of an Executioner's blade into his skull sent him swiftly after Ghita into the arms of Death. After that, the massacre began.

Let no one survive.

Ezio whirled at the sound of a high-pitched giggle and a tap on his shoulder, his longsword clutched tightly in a bleeding hand. The sight that awaited him was one he'd hoped he'd never see: bodies of his recruits, the men and women he'd saved from the Borgia, were strewn across the ground in bloody puddles; thieves and mercenaries lay motionless, their eyes unseeing as they lay dead; Machiavelli remained at the feet of an Engineer; Bartolomeo had been bested by what appeared to be a Nobleman; even La Volpe lay dead before a man with a hood and a wolfish grin.

I give these commands to you in the name of all of Roma…

The Grand Master of the Assassin Order didn't know when he found himself lying on the floor in agony, his body battered and bloodied, bits of shredded flesh hanging off his limbs and poison coursing through his system. It was only when a man in Roman armor and black hair stepped forth, murder in his eyes and a longsword in his hand, that Ezio knew he had failed in his quest to protect the world. The Assassin smiled bitterly and murmured a prayer—requiescat in pace—knowing he would receive no mercy nor respect from the Pope's son. He saw the glint of metal flash in the last vestiges of the sun, felt its cold bite as it plunged through his stomach, and he felt hollow as he felt the frigid grasp of Death creeping over him.

May the Father of Understanding Guide you.

- Cesare Borgia

A/N2: Yes, I realize it's probably weird, and the ending was most likely another WTF moment like all the rest of the games, but I have an unnatural liking for the multiplayer characters for some reason. For the sake of simplicity and to avoid confusion, I tried to keep the characters to a minimum. Hope it made sense. Happy New Year everyone!