The man was sweating visibly, my hidden blade held firmly against his carotid artery. I gazed up at him with no expression on my face, using the full force of my unnervingly cold eyes.

"I swear, I don't know where they keep it!" He was lying, I knew. I could feel his pulse change every time he said it. I pressed my blade in just enough to nick the skin, and he broke.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you, just… let me go after." I nodded. As soon as he disclosed the location, I put him out of his misery quickly and painlessly. I hadn't exactly lied; after all, I had let him go… to his afterlife.

I knew I should contact a few other Assassins before going after the Apple of Eden, but I was feeling keyed-up and a little bit reckless, so I took a cab to the abandoned-looking warehouse the Templar sentry had pointed me to. After scouting out the building, I knew I had my work cut out for me.

Three guards patrolled discreetly outside, while eight more waited inside. I found a handy spot on the back of the warehouse and scaled up it, slipping through a cracked window near the top of the building and landing lightly on a railing. In cases like these, my diminutive size was an advantage.

It all went much easier than I had allowed myself to hope. I used a handgun with a suppressor to take out six of them, then leapt down onto the last two, using both of my hidden blades to kill them simultaneously. But I should have realized just how tricky the Templars are.

I heard three slow claps behind me and whirled around to face a tall, dark-haired man in a suit. He held a .45 caliber handgun in his right hand, and the Apple of Eden in his left, giving off a faint golden glow. I felt a strange pull towards the Apple, and I almost extended my right hand towards it involuntarily before I knew what I was doing.

He took advantage of my distraction and started shooting. I dodged sideways, but felt two bullets strike home, one rather harmlessly grazing my ribs, and the other lodging in my abdomen, barely missing my lungs and other vital organs. I ignored the pain with an effort and rolled under his line of fire, coming up under his chin and thrusting a hidden blade into his throat. Arterial blood sprayed out all over me, and he choked and gurgled, indicating I had made a ruin of his windpipe.

I felt a warm glow through my entire body, and looked down to see the Apple in my right hand. I couldn't remember grabbing it, but something about it felt… right. Until I realized I couldn't let go, that is. I felt my left hand gravitating toward it, but I couldn't stop myself somehow.

As soon as both of my hands were on the Apple, I found myself surrounded by golden light, floating in it. I heard disconnected voices swirling around me.

"A gift of silence for you, my daughter…"

"Use it well…"

"His salvation will be your own."

Something intangible settled over me like a blanket, choking me for a moment before it vanished. In its place, pain crashed over me in a wave, my gunshot wounds making themselves known. I felt cobblestones under my bare feet, then blinked into bright daylight and got the shock of my life.

I was in an alley, surrounded by tall buildings. The architecture was old, in some timeless, Italian style. I looked down at myself, noting that I still had my double hidden blades; I was missing my other weapons, my hoodie, and, strangely enough, my shoes.

My confusion was growing by the minute; the harder I tried to remember where I was, the less I knew, until I couldn't remember where I was even from. I knew I was an Assassin, but I couldn't remember much else. I strained to remember my name, and finally heard it like a whisper through my mind. Isabella.

I sighed in frustration, then noticed something odd. I couldn't hear my breath being expelled. I tried again, with a heavier sigh. I still heard nothing. Had I gone deaf? No, I could hear people shouting in some language I didn't understand, though I caught enough to realize it was Italian. I tried speaking, but no sound emerged from my mouth. I stomped on the ground, almost hard enough to bruise my foot, but still nothing. Then I tried to scream. Still silent.

I tried not to panic, but I was definitely freaking out. Why couldn't I make a sound? It was as if I was a ghost. I was still bleeding pretty badly as well, which didn't help matters. I clutched my abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding, and walked a bit unsteadily toward the open street, where I could see people moving around in odd, Renaissance-fair clothes.

Before I reached it, however, a greasy-looking man with a sword strapped to his hip stepped in front of me, his eyes roving over my body. He said something in Italian that sounded super inappropriate, and I caught the word puttana, which I thought might mean bitch or whore. I stepped away from him, but he followed me, and four more men crowded after him, their eyes alight with interest. They backed me up against the alley wall before I realized it, reaching out towards my body. I managed to slit one throat, but they apparently learned their lesson, because the remaining four grabbed at my hands and legs, pinning me. Someone punched me in the solar plexus, causing an indescribable wave of agony. I felt a large hand groping roughly at my breast, trying to get underneath my skimpy tank top and bra, and something felt sickeningly familiar about it.

Suddenly I felt eyes on me, and my head snapped up to meet an amber gaze. A young man in elaborate, old-fashioned Assassin garb had paused upon seeing my situation, and as we locked eyes, I heard two faint voices in my head.

Assassin, one said.

Ezio Auditore, whispered the other.

That was the last thing I heard before darkness and pain claimed me.

Translations:

Puttana - bitch