Assassin's Creed II

A tall man, hooded and dressed mostly in white pulled himself slowly out of the canal. He favored one arm, his right, as he struggled to get up and out of the dirtied water. On closer inspection, a dark red stain and a small round hole in his clothing suggested he'd been hit by an arrow. He'd obviously removed it, but the damage had been done.
His breathing ragged, he dragged himself out of the open, and into the shadows in a narrow alley. He sat still, trying not to bring any more attention to himself, and inspected his wound. It was then that he heard the sounds of heavy boots hitting the ground, and shouts from what had to be the guards he thought he'd gotten away from. He silently moved farther back into the shadows, and then found a door. Bracing himself against the wall behind him, he managed to stand, and opened the door. Keeping as quiet as possible, he shut the door behind him,
but then collapsed on the other side. His shoulder was slowly becoming more painful, and he suspected infection was setting in.
Quick-witted as he was, he was an assassin, not a healer. The fact he'd hidden himself in a dark, dusty old storage room didn't help.
He let out a pained moan, and slowly lowered himself to the floor. He doubted taking a rest would fix anything, but he was in no condition to find his way back to any of his friend's homes.
Sweat had already started to bead on his face, one of the signs that infection had truly set in.
His breathing still ragged, he slowly began to slip off into an uneasy sleep.

-

I had gone to the market fairly early that morning, getting my usual supply of vegetables and a few fruits. Because of the area I lived in, the local market was relatively small, and did not have the biggest selection.
Still, it was enough to provide for the population in this section of Venice. After talking to some of the vendors and the owners of the market, like I had always done, I returned home. My house was on the outskirts of the city, and far from all of one or two canals. Unlike most of the homes in the area, mine was rather large-
one of the few good things my parents had left me before they disappeared-- along with a horse and a few valuables. I kept most of my parent's belongings, including most of the furniture, in a large storage room in an alley just across the street.
Thankfully, no one seemed to go down that alley, so there was no reason to keep a lock on the door,
or be wary of thieves. As for me, I had learned to defend myself early on. I had only just turned twenty years of age, but I had long known how to wield a sword. Later that day, I decided I needed another table in the house, and went to the storage room to look for a small one.
As I went to open the door, I paused, thinking I'd heard something coming from inside. Figuring it was probably nothing,
I walked in. I couldn't have been more wrong. I gasped as I saw a hooded man, lying on the floor. I immediately noticed he'd been wounded, and was now in the throes of a fever. In this condition, I knew he must have been harmless, which was one of the very few reasons I quickly went to his aide.
As I put my hand on his forehead to gauge how high his temperature was, I noticed how handsome his features were-- but now was not the time to be focusing on that.
Next I found the wound in his shoulder, and saw that he had wadded up a strip of cloth to try and stop the bleeding.
He obviously had no idea what to do when it came to taking care of himself.
This brought questions to thought, as to what this man really was.
With the hood and the strategically placed hidden weapons, my first guess was assassin, but I wondered why he had no clue as to healing.
Figuring there wasn't much I could do for him in the storage room, I grabbed onto the strap of leather that went over his left shoulder and part of the leather shoulder cape that covered his wounded one. I managed to drag him out of the room and across the street into my house (without anyone seeing, thankfully). He continued to moan, but eventually mumbled yet unrecognizable words began to come out.
With one last pull, I got him up onto one of the sofas in my house, hoping it would make him at least a little more comfortable.
I'd never taken care of a stranger like this, but for some reason I stayed focused and unafraid. I wasn't one to trust a man I'd never seen before,
but I had a peculiar feeling he was a 'good guy'.
I went and got an old blanket, covered him, and then went to the kitchen to get some water to heat. I filled an old kettle to the brim with water from the pump, and went back to the other room to start a fire. Within a few minutes, I'd gotten a reasonable fire going, and hung the kettle above it.
It was then that I heard the first recognizable words come from the man's mouth.

"L-Leonardo...da Vinci..." He mumbled, bringing his right hand up to rest on his forhead.

'He's awake?' I thought, after having jumped a bit. I did not expect him to wake yet, nor did I think I'd be hearing words.
"Wait..did you say da Vinci?" I repeated the name, as my eyes widened. 'How in the world would this clueless assassin--if that's what he really is--know about Leonardo da Vinci?' Entered my mind, as well as a few other questions, but they would have to be answered later.

The man nodded, and then put his hand back down at his side. "He's...a friend." He said, seemingly with a bit of reluctance.

"He may be, but you are going to have to wait. If you make it through the night, we will talk about getting you there tomorrow." I began,
"You are in no condition to go anywhere right now." I added seriously. "You might as well tell me your name. Mine's Daniela." I finished, trying a small smile.

"Ezio." He replied simply, turning his head to look at the fireplace across the room.