Leonardo inhaled deeply as he pushed the window open, allowing the crisp autumn air to grace his studio. The weather was simply perfect- a first, since it had been raining for quite some time recently. After a short, dreamy stare at the beautiful environment, the painter returned to his works. On his desk lay a small tin filled with brushes of all shapes and sizes. Leonardo gently selected one and turned on his heels, making his way across the room. An easel stood, with an average-sized canvas already slung on.

Truth be told, Leonardo had meant to start this painting weeks ago, (hence the pre-prepared equipment) but he'd just never had time. Every chance he had to pull out his brushes was quickly shooed away by a sudden chore, messenger, or Assassin. He smiled nervously to himself as he whisked out a bowl of water- ever since Ezio had begun bombarding him with Codex pages, he hadn't had much time to think about other projects. Yes, he did enjoy the little puzzles, but they were simply too distracting. The young artist wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up.

Thoughts of his angry commissioner, who he'd apologized to just yesterday for the delay, jostled him back to his painting. Leonardo swallowed and mixed the color with the water, creating a rough paste. He then proceeded to stroke his brush across the canvas calmly, allowing the action to relax him. The young man didn't even notice the pair of eyes staring at him through his open window.

Almost silently, the two conversed:

"Are you sure that's the guy, fratello?" A nervous whisper asked.

"That's definitely him," A more confident voice replied, "Come on."

With obvious experience, the two thugs hoisted themselves quietly through the window frame. In the sunlight they were much easier to identify- one was tall, the other short. One held a large burlap sack, big enough to hold a statue.

"Remember, Correggio," The short one murmured, grabbing the other's arm for attention, "Il Padrone said to only-"

"I know what Padrone said!" The tall one hissed angrily, slapping his hand, "Now shut up, you idiot, before you get us caught!"

Leonardo glanced up from his painting, disturbed by the noise. He put down his brush and turned to study the room with curious blue eyes.

"Hello?" He called, taking a few steps forward, "Is someone here?"

The artist waited a few moments. No response. Shaking his head, he decided to return to his easel.

A loud CRACK shot through the studio as a long blunt object connected with the man's head, staggering him. Leonardo gasped in pain and surprise, hands groping for something to hold onto as his legs failed him. His body thudded onto the wood floor, and his confused thoughts were smothered by an unbearably sharp pain in the back of his head. Unable to fight the growing darkness, Leonardo's eyes rolled back and he went limp…

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

THUMP, THUMP!

Ezio's hand went for the doorknob next, after giving his customary double-knock. As usual, the genius' door was unlocked, and the Assassin walked right on in. With a grin, his fingers curled around the ancient scroll in his pocket, already anticipating his friend's excitement. For some reason he never really figured, Leonardo loved examining the little documents left by the Assassin's predecessor.

He strained his ears as he entered, but heard none of the signature sounds that would normally betray the artist's presence. No scratching of a quill on paper, no soft flipping of pages, no footsteps creaking on the floorboards besides his own.

Ezio frowned, "Leonardo?" He called. No response.

Quickly, the Assassin searched his spare bedroom, wondering if perhaps the artist had slept late. However the room was quite empty, and Ezio found evidence suggesting the genius had not even stepped foot in it all day. Only a little worried, he proceeded to Leonardo's workroom, and was rewarded with an odd sight.

His first assumption had been that Leonardo was not home; gone out somewhere with a friend, perhaps (or worse, gone to stare at birds somewhere). But this room threw that assumption out the window; a canvas was neatly set up, and a few brush strokes were beginning to dry on its surface. The brush was not put away- instead it lay calmly next to the easel, soft bristles crusted over with flecks of paint. The paints were also left out, and were starting to spoil themselves. Ezio knew his artist friend well enough to realize that whatever he had been painting, he had been removed from it quite urgently.

An odd feeling began to swirl in Ezio's stomach. Something was very wrong here- Leonardo never just 'left' a painting. And the room was still in perfect order- everything was the same as it had been when Ezio had seen him yesterday.

Taking a deep breath, the Assassin decided that whatever had happened, it probably wasn't serious. Maybe he was painting and was suddenly called off by an urgent message…Who knew.

Ezio undoubtedly would have gone on believing this if he hadn't stepped on the note crinkled on the floor.

Curiously, Ezio bent down and examined the piece of parchment, which seemed to have drifted down from the counter. It read, in spirally handwriting:

"Gone to visit in-laws. May be gone for a few days. Sorry for the short notice.

-Leonardo da Vinci."

Ezio raised his eyebrows. It took him all of one second to deduce that this note had NOT been written by his best friend. The handwriting was close, but Ezio was one of those people who happened to know Leonardo's secret; the artist wrote everything backwards.

And, although this was merely a hunch, the Assassin was quite certain he did not possess any in-laws, either.

"Merda," Ezio sighed, folding the note and placing it in his pocket. He shook his head and made to exit the room, "Leonardo, where are you?"