It was noon, the midday sun causing a bead of sweat to roll off Gabriele's brow, but he didn't care. He was with someone who shared secrets and emotions with him, and that was the best feeling of all. She even caused something strange to flare in what felt like his soul. From what he could remember of his days as a tailor's son, and the petite girl who used to visit with her air of aristocracy, it was 'the beginnings of love', as his father used to say. As long as it didn't turn out to be a one sided fool's errand - he'd been beaten up by her brother when he tried to ask her if she felt the same, which she hadn't - or the result of a gorgeous dress. But recruit robes were hardly seducing. Still, he couldn't help but admire her curves where the fabric clung to them.

'There,' Annette pointed across the plaza at the Pantheon. As he followed her finger, she splashed him from the fountain they were sitting on, soaking his back.

'Hey,' he chuckled, 'that's actually quite refreshing. I'd forgotten how hot it could be out here.'

'It makes a change to creeping around in the night.' Truth be told, Machiavelli would tan their hides red if he caught them out here, not so much for the time but the place. The Pantheon was well protected, and if a guard started to ask too many questions, the plaza was far too open to avoid an arrow in the back. But risks had to be taken sometimes, didn't they?

'Want to look inside?' Gabriele asked, and stood up when he saw the expression on Annette's face.

'You bet I do,' she whispered, slightly scared. Having been brought up in the poorer districts of Rome, she'd never been near the Pantheon, and was still instilled with thoughts of God from all her family's church going back then. The two of them skirted around the edges of the large room, avoiding the godly beam of light that fell from the hole in the ceiling, Annette trying her best not to reach out to touch the elaborate altarpieces arranged around the room. People were kneeling, lips moving silently, as if they were muttering spells of some sort. There was a small clang as Annette backed into a golden candelabra, and one of the priests glared at them. It was surprisingly unwelcoming for some reason.

'Let's go, please,' she whispered, clutching at Gabriele's sleeve. 'Something's wrong.' She was right, there was a certain chill to the air, and not all of it came from the worshippers. He'd read similar accounts in one of the old scriptures, back at Tiber Island. 'Assassin's instinct', some unexplained power that came with the teachings, perhaps a result of training heightening the senses - or maybe it was more unnatural, like the rare eagle vision Ezio himself possessed. Either way, he didn't want to wait to find out.

They were halfway across the plaza when carriages thundered into the midst of the crowd. Both of them were separated as people flung themselves out of the way, desperate not to get crushed, pushing the young recruits apart from each other in a mass of screaming bodies. Guards stepped forward.

'Annette!' Yelling, Gabriele scanned his surroundings, and caught sight of her for a moment before the horses stopped, obscuring his view. He darted towards where she'd been, but a guard shoved him back again.

'Stay in line,' he barked. The door to one of the carriages swung open, and Gabriele couldn't help but watch to see who it was. An armoured boot stepped out, followed by another, and his face drained of colour when he finally saw their owner.

'Cesare Borgia,' his breath caught in his throat. The master's primary target, here! If he could just get a shot... Not even Zeno would be able to overshadow him then. The man stood silently, one hand resting on his sword's hilt as he observed the crowd. Barely breathing, Gabriele readied a smoke bomb. He'd throw it to the ground to cause confusion, and in that moment cut his way through, to Cesare himself. There was the sound of scuffling from the other side of the carriages, however, and he paused as he thought he heard a woman's shout. Who -

'Let go of me, you bastardo!' Two guards emerged, holding both of Annette's arms firmly between them. She was raging, hidden blades whirring madly, but she could reach neither of them. Gabriele paled. The smoke bomb slipped from his grasp, rolling away through the crowd, but he didn't notice.

'Saw weapons 'neath her cloak, tho't she might be hopin' to kill you sir.' Cesare turned around slowly, smiling at the look of sudden fear on Annette's face. He placed the tip of his sword at her throat. Clenching his fists, Gabriele had to try hard not to attack, as she'd be killed within seconds if he did so. He'd have to wait for an opening, and hope for the best.

This is Annette we're talking about! Now he understood what true agony was. Watching that monster toss her life between his claws was unbearable, but he forced himself to watch, waiting for a drop in the defence. But it never came.

'So Ezio Auditore sends his little puppets to attack me? This is an insult, I have to admit. Does he think me so easily gotten rid of?' The smile disappeared from Cesare's face, sword blade biting deeper into Annette's throat. 'Or do you simply think you could win favour with your master if you killed me?' Gabriele winced. The words weren't intended for him, but they still cut deep. 'Unfortunately for you, I'm too busy to let you just learn a lesson today. The fewer loose strands, the better.' He drew back his sword arm, motioning one of the men restraining her to strike. Annette simply closed her eyes. Giving up.

'Now!' A gruff voice from behind Gabriele made him start, and he watched, stunned, as Zeno leapt past him, blade flashing left and right, hewing the guards from Annette's sides. It had never been so good to see him. Rushing forwards, Gabriele instantly joined the fray, relieved at the assassin's sudden appearance, that someone older than him was taking charge.

We'll be alright. Everything's going to be alright now. Something inside said. It was comforting. Meanwhile, people screamed, the crowd fleeing once more, away from the bloodshed. Gabriele let Zeno go after the demon Cesare, taking care of the guards for him instead. This was what the master had meant by working together. Not rushing for the prize at the same time. Perhaps if he'd realised that earlier, he'd be in assassin robes too.

Slish-slash, crimson painting the carriages and his robes. Another weave and his blade crunched into a man's ribs. Again and again, Annette's back coming against his so that they killed as one, until the area around the carriages stood clear. Cesare was backing away, calm despite the chaos unfurling, guards widening the gap between him and the assassins' blades. But instead of going after the man, Zeno grabbed the two recruits suddenly, tossing his sword to the floor so that he could drag them alongside.

'Run!' He hissed, throwing them forwards. It soon became apparent why. The roofs around the plaza had guards pulling back crossbow bolts at them, at least five in total. A death trap after all. Thankfully, the carriages provided some cover, and they hurtled round them, bolts clattering against the blood-stained metal. One clipped Annette's leg, and she winced as it tore a gouge out of the side. But they would make it. It was a mess, and they should have never risked coming here, but they were going to be safe after all. They'd even taken a fair chunk of Cesare's men out too. In the time it took for the archers to rewind their bolts, they'd managed to reach the relative cover of the market stalls, which kept them out of sight of the rooftops. Annette's leg was bleeding badly, but she was keeping pace. Her small frame meant that she was faster than the two men, and so she reached safety first, disappearing round an alleyway corner. Soon all they'd have to fear would be Machiavelli's words.

'Nngh,' there was a gurgle from Gabriele's side, and the pair of running shadows became one. He ground to a halt, forcing himself to turn around, his relief turning to horror.

No, no, no, please no! Zeno was stumbling, mouth agape. One hand was clenched over his abdomen, blood seeping from between the gaps in his fingers, the other stretched out, grasping at thin air. The assassin coughed, crimson splattering onto the cobblestones. No bolt protruded from his wound, but it bled all the same, faster and heavier with each step the man took. 'Gabriele,' he shook his head, entire body beginning to shiver from shock, 'run. Please. For God's sake run.' A gunshot rang out, and Zeno's entire frame jolted forwards, life draining from his features. He fell, hitting the stone face first.

Dead.

By the carriages, Cesare stood with his handgun still raised. He moved to aim it at Gabriele, who was still with fear, flicking back the hammer slowly.

He stopped, lowering it.

'Go,' his mouth seemed to say, taunting him. 'Go suffer your mistake.'

Gabriele did what any lesser man would have done - he fled.