After returning from a long mission, you'd expect a man to go and sleep.
But that's not the case with a certain ponytail wearing Assassin.
He kicked off his boots as he shut the door behind him so he could be alone to relax. For pete sake, he just returned from the other side of Italy! He DESERVED some rest! So what ends up changing things?
In the middle of pulling off his robes, there was a knock on the door. With his arms entangled and pressed into his chest as he had attempted to pull of the robes in one piece, he couldn't simply walk over and open it. Instead, he squirmed a bit see he could see past his hood and looked back as he answered, "Who is it?"
"Who else would be knocking at your door."
Grunting in slight annoyance, he responded to the man on the other side. "It's unlocked. Just come in."
Machiavelli came in only to be startled with the realization that he had come in while Ezio was taking off his clothes. Lucky for him, the older was still stuggling with the robes. "Do you need a hand with that?"
Ezio glared a moment and continued to wriggle until he finally managed to pull it off. This was why he probably shouldn't try taking those things off all at once. He gets stuck... "No, I've got it. Now what is it?" He didn't bother with his shirt, and just sat on the bed.
"There's been issues and the guards are beginning to get more suspitious of Tiber Island." Machiavelli answered. "I know who's been supporting these claims. And if he were to... dissapear, then they'd be more likely to stay away."
Ezio sighed heavily. "Let me guess. You want me to get dressed again and go find him and get rid of him."
"Just get to it, the faster it's dealt with, the faster this problem with go away." Machiavelli told him, and then turned to leave. "Good luck."
Now alone again, he put his head in his hands as he stared down at the floor. He felt tired as it was. To add to that, he had a headache, he was sore, slightly chilled, and he was beginning to question if he was ill (as he had spent the later half of the ride back coughing. But assumed it was just dust or something.). Though he put those to the back of his mind and threw on his robes and heavy armor once more.
It wasn't long before he was able to pull himself up to the rooftops, his breath coming in short pants. But he shook this lose of breath off and kept moving. He'd get this over, and then he'd go back and sleep. He was promising himself that.
"Now where is he." He blinked as he switched on his Eaglevision, eyes turning from a rich caramel to a peircing gold. There in the streets, he saw his target, a yellow shimmering figure walking alone. He decided he'd send these guards off course on where the hide out truely was, and followed along the roof, running across lines and jumping to the next roof. When his target entered an alley, he took the chance and jumped down on him, impaling his hiddenblade through the man's neck.
As he stood up, he looked down and muttered his respects then walked away. That should take care of everything for now. At least that's what he had first thought.
Once again, someone would find him and have him do work for them.
On his way back, he was stopped by a thief. A young one.
"Messere! You must help, the guards have my brother! They're going to kill him!"
Ezio sighed uneasily. There goes his self-promise to get back and sleep. "Where did they take him?"
"They're going to kill him in front of the Castello!" The thief explained.
Ezio nodded slowly. "I'll bring him back. Don't worry." Then he turned and started towards the general direction the thief had pointed him in. "After this, I'm going straight back to the hideout. No acceptions..." He muttered.
At the location, he could see three guards aiming crossbows at an even younger thief. With no hesitation, he whipped out his throwing knives, quickly dispatching of the crossbow men. The thief stood up in moments and started running, now free.
Once again on his way back to the hideout for the second time, he was unable to make it even half way when a woman begged him to help her. Now this was beginning to get a little too annoying. Were these people trying to keep him from sleeping? He looked up at the sky, it was a little past midday.
"What's the problem?"
"I- I don't know what happened!" The woman sobbed. "I and my sister were attacked out of no where by a man! He took my sister!" She was in complete hysterics.
"Calm down." Ezio told her gently, a hand on her shoulder. "I'll help your sister." He then set off AGAIN, to find some target. His problem? He had to track this one down. Following clues until he finally found a man holding a woman to a wall, the woman screaming.
He made no hesitation to stab him.
"Gazie!" The woman repeated over and over as she ran away. Once again, Ezio was left to think about where he was. Which, strangely, was nearby the barracks. And he knew it'd be quicker to just cut through.
As he came through the iron gate, he was brought to swear every curse through his teeth when he saw Bartolomeo walk up to him.
"Ezio!" The man greeted, seeming in a good mood.
"Whatever it is that you're going to ask me to do, it a no." Ezio stated flatly as he walked past.
"Wha- wait! Come back here!" He grabbed Ezio's shoulder and asked, "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"
Ezio looked back, not aware of how much his exhaustion was showing in the paled skin and dark circles. "I've had a long day..."
Nodding, the mercenary captain seemed to have an idea. "I know what will help."
"You do?"
"We could spare in the training grounds." Bartolomeo answered.
Sighing heavily he nodded. "Alright. Fine. Let's go."
Smiling, Bartoomeo led the way over to an open space where the training dummies were more out of the way and they'd have room. Then they stood some distance, both of them ready to draw their swords.
In one second, both drew their weapons, the metal gleaming in the sunlight as their swords clashed. Both focused on what the other might be doing and how they could counter it. Almost too fast to any spectators to see, Bartolomeo pulled back and swung, Bianca cutting the air just inches from Ezio's torso with a woooosh of air breaking. Stepping back, Ezio was preparing for another assualt. But no one could be ready for the that hard clash of swords, Ezio's was sent out of his hands and into the dirt. He was about to run for it, but he dodged another attack, making him stumble and being the perfect opening for Bartolomeo to trip him over. Ezio fell to the ground with a hard thud as he turned over to look up, his sword just behind him.
Bartolomeo pressed the tip of his sword to the dirt as he kneeled down, a smile clear on his face. "Have you been skipping practice lately, Ezio?"
Stunned still as he blinked, everything which had happened just sinking in. "I'm just tired. Now I have to go." He stood up and tore his sword from the dirt and shealthed it. Then walked away. The sparring match didn't help much at all except sort of vent his irritation out.
It was getting dark when Ezio was back in the Centro district. His exhaustion beginning to get the better of him as his vision blurred and darkened slowly. And he involenteerily coughed harshly, feeling even worse than before he left the hideout in the first place. When he reached the bridge, he was practically wheezing and leaning on the edge for support. What's wrong with me? He thought.
When he reached the hideout, he pushed open the door and walked in with heavier footsteps than he'd of liked. The first people he saw were a couple of his recruits. They both looked up, one a boy was a scarf covering most of his face, the other a younger woman with brown hair. "You're back." The woman greeted.
"Ser Machiavelli said you were out on a mission." The man told him.
Ezio glanced up, and it was more than obvious something was wrong with him. He was barely standing, coughing up a lung, and looked deathly pale. The woman was clearly able to see that something wasn't right.
"Maestro, is everything alright? You look awful!" She asked, then helped him to a chair, as if expecting to see some horrible injury.
Machiavelli walked down, hearing the commoshion being made as the woman assassin was digging around the doctor's table for something. "What happened? Is everything fine?"
While the man explained, the other assassin was fussing over Ezio like a mother would with a little child. "Go upstairs."
"What?" Ezio looked at her puzzled, though he'd love to, he was sure he'd get ANOTHER mission to get done before he could sleep.
"Go. Upstairs. Now." She ordered in a more assertive tone. Clearly, she was more sure what was wrong with him.
"So what is it?" Machiavelli asked as Ezio stopped breifly on the staircase to listen.
The woman answered simply, "He's just ill. How long has he been like this?"
"He was going to take a rest when I told him about a target." Machiavelli responded.
"Idiota! He probably felt like shit and needed that sleep to begin with!" She snapped. "Do you know what else he might of been doing?"
"We can ask in the morning then." Machiavelli replied. Clearly he wasn't taking it too well that he was snapped at by a novice.
Ezio sighed quietly, he should have known. He was sick as hell and was on the verge of collasping. He shouldn't feel like this, and yet he allowed himself to go off and do a quarter dozen missions. He shuffled up and closed the door behind himself. Then got down to his trousers and shirt, landing down on the bed and pulling the blanket over his fevered body and pressed his face into a pillow. It wasn't long until he managed to sleep, although his coughing kept it light and easily desturbed.
He woke up the next morning, mouth dry and throat scratchy. He groaned and curled in deeper, mading a human cacoon out of the blankets as he shivered under the covers. He didn't care if he looked down right rediculous, he needed to feel better and he wasn't going to if he was going to be sick.
Yup. Ezio's got sick.
The whole sparring match was a reference to one of Doubleleaf's pictures. I didn't come up with that. The rest was my idea.