A/N: Okay, so I know I said to someone I was going to update Sunday and that was the original plan. I actual got a calendar app and posted my updating and editing periods on it for the next 3 weeks at least. However, I've been a bit off. I don't like writing when I'm off because everything turns out borderline awful. Additionally, I kind of smashed my fingers at work so I couldn't really type without pain flaring in my fingers (didn't stop me haha).

I've been staying up for the past 2 days straight (which isn't that bad for me haha) to get this chapter out and the next one (because you guys deserve it) done and ready. My keurig is my best friend I swear.

I will warn you guys that I am extremely iffy about these chapters. These next two I mean. I'll let you guys read it and then I'll explain at the end. It's a bit of a mess and I couldn't fix it no matter how much I tried.

Enjoy it nevertheless?

Oh! I am also very very sorry for my BabelXL/Google Translate Italian. I speak Spanish, a little French, a little German, and English, but Italian is not part of my diction haha. I am not quite used to it so I apologize for the awful Italian! I shall have translations at the end. ^^"

Chapter 3

The Animus Erik was taken to was definitely different from the one he saw when he first arrived.

This one was larger and looked like it fit the entire room rather than a small bed. More expansive and less compact to one spot. It felt as if it was everywhere but then not. More immersive as Charles put it.

The entire room was dark except for a few minor spot lights focused on glass cases. Each of the cases contained some kind of weapon from daggers to gauntlet-like armor. Sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of something that shouldn't be there – a trinket or some small item that was certainly not a weapon – but perhaps it was for a different reason. Erik didn't know and, to a point, he didn't care.

He didn't like being in here. It had an aura that made your skin crawl, teeth chatter, and paranoia spike up to potential new heights of anxiety. A wonderful combination really that made Erik immensely glad that he was good at keeping things in check. If it was up to him, however, he wouldn't even be here. He didn't know how many times he had to say it until they actually got the damn hint, but he did not like this in the slightest.

But he agreed. He agreed for a reward that seemed to be almost impossible to fulfill. It was too late to say "never mind" now.

When he looked up from the machine, he saw a small room. It was isolated and well-lit compared to this area. Inside was a slim, older man. He looked like he was expecting something. Expecting something from him.

Well, get in line. It seems that there are quite a bit people wanting a little piece of me. Erik thought, watching as the man seemed to eye him carefully.

One of the things Erik's father taught him was how to tell dangerous men from the non-threatening kind. There were key aspects you keep out for, the small tweak in their personality that gave them away.

Of course, it was hard to tell some of these from this distance and without actually talking to him. It was all speculation. All guesswork. Erik didn't like working with guesswork – it was going to lead to problems. But he had to know what he was working with, who he was working with, and figure out his goal.

In Erik's history, a corporation didn't always have the same goal as the head of the corporation. Just a little manipulation to make things appear so.

This man gave that aura just from the look about him. It made Erik wonder if this was potentially Mr. Rikkin.

"Did you bring Subject 19?" Someone asked, British accent this time, and Erik turned to meet another new face around here. She had short black hair and a slightly rounded face – a very similar face to the man in that room, actually, but not the same aura. She felt safer somehow.

Without an answer, her expression shifted to him and there was a moment of revelation in those eyes. Oh, he knew that look. In fact, he had seen that look yesterday on a different face with bluer eyes.

"Yes. Can you retrieve the hidden blades?" Lucy replied tersely and the woman nodded, rushing off to one of the glass cabinets.

Well, wasn't that a little interesting? Erik watched as Lucy's back, previously ramrod straight in the presence of the petite woman, go relaxed when she walked away. Aversion? No, that wouldn't be it. Erik had been around enough women to know that when they disliked each other, it often wasn't quietly.

But whatever the emotion, for lack of a better word, was, it was the reason that Ms. Stillman seemed to be on edge. Erik had an inkling of a feeling on their way here that she wasn't as stone-hearted as she wanted to give off. He knew cold-hearted. He knew that quite well because that was what people tended to call him on his best days (often a bastard or son of something or another on his worst). This woman, while she tried her damnedest, was not what she pretended to be.

There was a reason she was trying, though, and the curious woman who bustled off to fetch the hidden blades was the core of it. This Erik was absolutely sure of.

But thinking on it now was useless. Perhaps if he was granted a question after all of this he could pressure her. He would have to win a lottery to get an answer, of course, but it was worth a shot. Maybe the odds would be in his favor – even if they hadn't been so far.

"Erik, follow me if you will. I have to get you set up before we immerse you into the system. Seeing as you are new and have never even entered the Animus, old or new, I wouldn't be surprised if you became unstable almost immediately." She led him to the center of the room, directly in front of the Animus. Around him was metal arms and claws that probably aided in whatever this thing did.

"Do most of the Subjects go unstable in this type of thing?" Whatever this thing is?

Lucy shrugged which, again, was not very reassuring. "It depends on the person and the circumstance. We introduced Subject 17 to the Animus while he was still unconscious and he turned out fine. We placed 18 on it when we first shipped him here and he had some problems…" She drifted off, a brief look of guilt on her face before she cleared her throat and continued on. "But. Usually yes. Think of it as a Rite of Passage."

If I remember right, a Rite of Passage was marking an important stage in someone's life. I don't see how this is important in mine, darling. Was what he wanted to say but he kept quiet and nodded. If he wanted to get far in this place, he was going to have to cut back on the sarcasm and tongue in cheek comments, sadly.

"Stop here." His feet stopped exactly after the first word. "I'm going to attach a few things before we put on your blades. It's both precaution and obligatory. While this machine is an upgrade, there are additional factors that could cause a few problems should things take a wrong turn. If we make any wrong adjustments before you enter, it could spell disaster by itself."

Wasn't that a lovely word choice: Disaster. Well, that was an upgrade from the threat of being killed off earlier, so perhaps he shouldn't be complaining, but disaster sounded pretty damn fatal to him. Disaster caused injuries and problems. A problem was repairable (mostly.) A disaster was not.

"What happens if I become unstable? What then?" Erik asked curiously, watching as she snapped a belt around his waist. He called it a belt but it was more like a steel ring that kept him in place. No wiggle room either. It was as tight as possible without causing bodily harm. The same Abstergo logo (or so he assumed the triangle icon to be) blinked at him brightly.

"We will pull you out immediately and perform whatever aid is necessary. You may suffer from a migraine or you could go as far as a seizure or heart attack. It depends on how strong your body is and how healthy it has been kept." She must have seen the doubting look on Erik's face because she offered a smile and pointed off to a shadow that showed nothing. "If you want an insurance of us saving you, there is a first aid kit over there and then some. We have seen everything here, quite frankly, so I doubt anything could surprise us. You are in good hands; despite whatever you may believe, we don't want to kill you."

It seemed like quite the opposite to him. The opposite and the most cliché lie in any sort of captive scenario. The "We don't want to kill you but we might have to" kind of ordeal. Which basically told him no promises were going to be kept on keeping him alive – not that they made a move to make any anyways. If he was going to die, they would try to help, but they weren't going to go as far as most medical personnel might. After all, they have Subject 18 and 17 at their disposal still.

So, that was a lovely thought to have.

Truly a way to make his day brighter.

Soon after the belt was attached, Lucy nodded to someone and the next thing he knew, he was being held in place by the both of his arms.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"With this process, we need to be inserted into your central nervous system, or as close to it as we can be without it being risky."

"Isn't affecting anything of the spine already risky enough?" Erik retorted but Lucy continued on like she hadn't heard him.

"Seeing as it is a painful process, the reinforcements are just a precaution to make sure you don't flinch and become paralyzed. Please try not to move if possible. It won't end well."

"Paraly-" He didn't get a chance to demand what else could potentially go wrong because a blinding pain pierced his back and, after that, all thought was lost.

It wasn't just pain that he felt. No, it couldn't just be described as pain because pain was a little paper cut on an index finger. A twisted ankle from landing wrong on a jump. That was pain. This? This was pure agony, and it didn't just remain at the neck but decided to shoot everywhere around his upper body. It was excruciating – like they decided to send a powerful volt of electricity directly into his body and seared every nerve in the process. He might have yelled but if he did he couldn't hear it.

When the pain (agony) eventually subsided, the people let him go and he fell to his knees, seething at the inflamed skin that centered around the nape of his neck.

"It's going to hurt for a while, Erik. Until you get used to it at least. I'm sorry." And she did sound sincere when she apologized. He imagined anyone would feel sorry if they watched someone die on the inside and then be reluctantly revived. "But we can't let you sit here and get used to it. We need to get started."

"What Ms. Stillman means to say is that you have no choice on the matter. Get up. Once you're in the Animus it will dull and you won't feel a thing. We don't have time to wait for you to be good and ready." Vidic's voice was quickly becoming one of those voices that grated on your ears. It made Erik want to say to hell with it and throw a punch – just to see what would happen.

But he didn't. He had quite a few eyes on him - at least 15 guards from what he was counting. They would shoot him before he even got close. It wasn't worth the effort.

Sighing, he stood though his legs were a little weak now. "Has anyone ever told you that you have the voice that makes people want to punch you? I was just wondering because maybe their deaf or I have a problem. Both are possible, really." Erik, shut up. What happened to less sarcasm? Damn it you're going to have him sic the guards on you and thenwhere would you be? Six-feet-fucking-under.

It didn't matter, though. Vidic's eyebrow twitched for all it was worth as he said, "No. I have never been informed." But a glance around the room showed a few shifty people who looked twenty seconds from doing just that.

Erik wasn't wanting to pick a fight. It was just the pain talking, the annoyance at having just been invaded by whatever they put in him. He quickly got a hold of his tongue before the man did steal a gun and shot him in the head. "Just an observation, I guess. From an outsider's point of view. I hear they can be quite reliable, but by all means let's cut the chit-chat and begin this ceremony." He didn't feel steady, but he wasn't about to give Vidic any more material to land on him than necessary.

"Perfect. Ms. Rikkin? The blades if you will." The woman from before scurried back from the cabinets, quiet but clearly observing every detail she possibly could. She was a scientist. More a scientist than whatever these people were, anyways. She just wanted a result to analyze. Something to learn.

In other words, basically harmless.

"Please hold out your forearms for me, Mr. Lehnsherr." He did as he was told, and she slapped on the hidden blades, pulling at the clasps on them until they were tight and refused to move. As she rotated the leather and checked a few gears, he heard her mumble. "You're lucky you know. Back then they cut off one of your fingers when they gave you these. The one we have was modified to make sure it wasn't necessary. Too bloody if you ask me."

I wasn't but okay. Was all Erik could think as he watched her. She was another weird one. Not Charles-weird, but she was definitely a type of weird. Weird didn't define danger though so still harmless he hoped.

As she backed away, there was a strong something (Impulse? Muscle memory reaction? He didn't have a single clue) in Erik that made him give an immediate jerk downward with his arms. Metal scratched against the leather until he saw the clean sheen of the metal blades at his side.

They were truly a piece of art. The gears of the instrument being seen on the inside of his wrist was his favorite. With a small experimental jolt of his wrist, he saw the gears turn and a small click was heard. Interesting. He wouldn't mind remaking this when he got out.

On the other side was a symbol he had never seen before, but both Vidic and Lucy assured him he was clearly of assassin blood (somehow.) Could this have been their symbol? Their mark? It felt like it and he hadn't even "met" one of them yet.

"Set up the subject," Vidic announced loudly and the men reacted quickly. A large metal arm was attached and secured to the belt with a loud hiss. Erik felt like he was being trapped in a prison and knew that any disregards of this entire thing would go unheard this point on.

"Lucy, is Subject 18 in the other Animus?" Subject 18? Charles? He was also going to be in one of these? Why?

"Yes. He has already entered and is ready for observation."

"Fantastic. Let's get the ball rolling, people. Time is of the essence." And of course he had to clap, too. Emphasize his "chop-chop" attitude. Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Lucy and Ms. Rikkin fell back, drifting to one of the control consoles and pressing a multitude of buttons. Vidic leaned against one of the beams, watching Erik closely. It made him uncomfortable but that was probably the purpose. To settle discomfort in him.

Slowly, he noticed there were a significant amount of spot lights focused on where he was. They were not on, not yet, but he had a feeling they would be soon.

As quick as he thought it he saw them turn on, one by one. They all focused on him and Erik had to squint as they all were adjusted, rotated, tilted.

He didn't even know he was lifted off the ground until he looked down. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. It was supposed to be hard concrete floor, however, it was beginning to look more like a rooftop than a floor. In front of him was the open skyline of a city he had never been to but felt like he should recognize. He kept having weird moments of déjà vu for reasons that he really shouldn't be having them for at all.

It didn't make any sense at all.

"What is this?"

"This, Mr. Lehnsherr," Vidic stepped closer, arms crossed over his chest in solemn satisfaction. "Is the Animus. The newer version in all actuality. You are our first Subject."

"And what of Subject 18?" He didn't know why he cared for Charles at that moment, why he even bothered mentioning him, but he was getting a feeling that the man probably shouldn't be in one of these. Not with what Erik saw of him and the weird feeling he was getting from the man.

"What of him?" Vidic rose a brow. "Did you two make friends? Well, it doesn't matter really. He's already in the simulation. We are going to enter you both into the system at the same time considering your ancestors apparently knew each other at the same time frame. Lucky us."

Erik was trying to focus on what he was saying, he really was, but he was quickly losing the battle. His conscious was being torn from his body and placed in another. That was what this felt like. As if he was watching something from a glass wall. Was this what it was supposed to feel like being in one of these? Was this normal? He didn't know.

Before he could try to stop it he felt the battle immediately end in his lost with black gracing his vision.

…..

What is this?

"Sorella! Wait. Please!" He shouted out desperately at the girl in front of him. She let out a laugh and, if anything, seemed to move faster and with more grace. He was going to lose her at this rate. "Si sta muovendo troppo in fretta!"

He jumped across the rooftops, slipping every so often and having to catch himself on the edge on the latest one in the nick of time. He winced at the jerk that shivered through his body as he pulled himself up slowly, sitting down against the wall and heaving loudly. His heart was pulsing in his head. His fingers were scraped a little and his legs felt like they had been turned to mush.

He would have made it. He definitely knew he would have made it. If only his legs were longer or if he was stronger. If only… if only… if only.

The girl let out a laugh as she appeared close by. She was older than he was. Short hair pulled up barely by a piece of thread. There was a sense of superiority to her. Tough and quick, but not the typical around here. Not the usual type of girl. The fact that she wore trousers and a tucked in cotton shirt made it that much more obvious.

"Ah, fratello," she cooed softly, waltzing back and stopping in front of him. "You're too slow!"

No, you're just too fast! He wanted to retort. This was only his third time at this, after all. Like hell was he going to actually know the right distance and how much force to put in! He should have expected his sister to taunt him so, but it was taking a lot out of him not to "start something" as she put it.

He never started anything he didn't finish though.

"Tra-traquillo. Be quiet. I am not too slow," he huffed. "You're just more used to these roof tops than I am."

"Are you sure, Nicolo? It sounds like you are making excuses again to me."

Nicolo?

"That is your ancestor's name, Erik. Nicolo de Altimari. Though it seems you were thrown into his younger past than where we needed you. We will have to wait it out. There is probably a reason," Lucy's voice interrupted, entering his thoughts.

Well, there was little he could do but wait now. He wasn't in control. This wasn't his life. Just a part of one he happened to be related to.

The girl extended a hand to him, and he took it gratefully. "Grazie, Corina."

"Keep up! Father wants us back by the time the sun sets. We still have a ways to go," Corina grinned and placed her hands on her hips. "The only way you will get quicker is if you practice constantly, fratello. Don't let exhaustion claim you now. Affrettatevi!"

"Yes. Yes, I know," Nicolo laughed, "Go. I'll be right behind you this time!"

His sister took a head start, hopping from the roof onto a clothesline. She was already running across it, arms out to balance her from the barely noticeable wind.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up. "Okay, Nicolo. Let's do this." He tied the belt around his waist tightly before taking to a sprint, leaping from the roof. He didn't let the height bother him as it usually did. In fact, he didn't even look down. Looking down would make him mess up, get self-conscious, or even worse. He was tired of failing just because he couldn't make a silly leap.

So he kept his eyes ahead and watched as his older sister pranced through the buildings and grasped at anything like it magically popped out of nowhere just for her. It was amazing! Seeing his sister leap and run and fly like she was meant for this kind of thing. Nicolo wanted to do that. He wanted to be able to fly with her. He wanted to feel the wind rustling through him – not trying to make him fall. He wanted to see the sun and be able to have it there without blinding him.

He knew he had a long way to go, but he wished he could master it now.

The edge of a roof was coming up fast. He could make it. It was the same distance as the last one that made him stop. He just had to push a little harder or maybe jump a little later. Whatever it was he had to do, he could do it. He would do it.

Picking up his speed, he took a deep breath and leapt.

For a second, he was flying. He thought he could feel what he sister told him about. The feeling of libertà. Freedom.

Knowing that you were on top of a world that was quietly living under you and unsuspecting of your observation. Having the advantage of being a shadow or a glimmer of something that no one would ever be certain of. The mystery and the pure puzzling fact that he could be everywhere and then not so because of his own choice. The final powerful reminder that he could act anyway, say anything, or think whatever he wished of the people below and of the remainder around him because of his ability to fly like his sister.

It was amazing. He had no other word for it. He wasn't a poeta or someone granted with words.

But, this gave him happiness not being enslaved to the ground and face value. The self-given definition of freedom.

He should have paid attention though. He should have known that something was going wrong when he jumped.

Did he slip? Did his foot catch on something like a sparse vine or even a chip in the wall? Was he still exhausted from his previous jump? Did something go wrong that he didn't pay attention for?

It had to. Things shouldn't have gone like this.

It took him a second too long and his sister's terrified yelp to realize he had missed the edge of the other roof and was falling down to the cobblestone below.

Nicolo closed his eyes and held his breath.

…..

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. So wrong, in fact, that Erik almost wanted to shout out in pure hysteria a loud, "I told you so" to himself about the fact that he was right to not trust this thing. And, damn it, yes, Lucy warned him – but this was far worse than he imagined. He didn't even have any thoughts for how to describe this. It felt like his thoughts were strung out in front of him, trying to be reeled in from the experience he was forced to go through, yet they couldn't find the button to do so.

And it wasn't just that. Having his thoughts scrambled? That wasn't anything new to him. He could handle that because that basically was his life right now.

He did not like this.

He did not like this at all.

But, because of his deal with the devil, as he was thinking of it now, he was getting a little bit more than he could chew. Perhaps he asked for it. Wanting the information he wanted was like finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Something that didn't seem ever likely to him. Something that still didn't seem likely to him. Yet it was and he was now facing a consequence he should have kept an eye out for.

There was once a quote he found at one point – for no reason in particular really.

"Every sacrifice is another colour to your rainbow." It may not apply to what he was going through, but he had a feeling that he would have to do this until he got enough "colors" to find that damn pot of gold he desperately wanted.

He really needed to shut up and focus. Rambling wasn't going to solve anything.

At least it was staying in his head. He had a feeling he would have been long sedated if he said all of this aloud.

Would that be a bad thing?

Erik was having problems distinguishing where he was. Not because he couldn't focus but because there was nothing to focus on. The lights were flashing around him and there was a strong shaking consuming him or at least he thought it was shaking. It didn't feel like anything. How could something not feel like anything?

The world was constricting too tightly. He couldn't breathe. I cannot breathe. Was that his heart in his head? That fast pulse that sounded like it was going too fast to be normal? That wasn't good. In fact, it was definitely not good.

Does this count as a disaster? Am I repairable? He thought in wicked hysteria.

It was too hot. Too hot and too everything. He didn't even know what he was staring at. He felt in his bones that he should be seeing cobblestone, feeling cobblestone piercing his bones and breaking something. But he was whole. He wasn't bleeding or even remotely hurt and he couldn't understand why.

Maybe that was why he was unstable. His brain was confused. His body was even more confused. Mentally he knew that he was perfectly fine. He wasn't going to smash into the floor and bleed out for all to see. He was fine.

His body, however, couldn't fathom this. He should be broken. He should be dead. He should not be alive to wonder all of this.

"He's unstable. Get him out!" He thought he heard someone yell.

"Give him a minute, Ms. Stillman. He will be fine. He has to adjust."

"No, Mr. Vidic. With all due respect, he is having a seizure. He is not going to be okay. Take him out now," A different voice pitched in.

He felt hands and a part of him wanted to fight back but his arms were too sluggish. They refused to move like they had been petrified in place.

Next thing he knew he was lying flat on the floor. Lucy and Ms. Rikkin were around him. Ms. Rikkin shouting at someone or another while Lucy looked like she was about to tear Vidic to pieces. Erik might have laughed if he could get the air to do so.

Something was jabbed into his chest and he was able to breathe. The room changed from a pin prick and slowly got wider.

He felt nauseated. Sick to his stomach. There was a certain fragile-ness about his bones. He felt like one of those porcelain dolls made so that when they dropped to the floor they shattered. He had fallen. He had been effectively, metaphorically, almost literally dropped.

God, he felt embarrassingly weak. Weaker than he had felt in a long time.

"Will this happen every time?" Erik wheezed out, "If so, I might have to do a rain check."

Lucy gave him a smile that said this was worse than what she expected. At the same time, Ms. Rikkin smoothed back his hair to check his temperature, murmuring, "Shush Erik. This was an anomaly."

"Anomaly how?"

She hesitated. "Most subjects don't seem to react with a seizure the first time they are placed into an Animus, Erik. It just doesn't happen."

So that was what happened to him. It didn't feel like a seizure. It didn't feel like anything really to him.

Additionally, he wasn't even supposed to have one. Wasn't that something? Looks like he was special.

The urge to laugh was so strong that it was in itself laughable.

Perhaps he needed to sleep. That was what he needed. A night of sleep without creepy guards watching over his every move like it was somehow an important plot device in some story they had to take note of. A non-sedated rest preferably.

But he had to make due of his promise so he could get the information he wanted. Damn it. If the information wasn't so priceless, he might have given up and just concluded his experience here with a huge disgraceful sticking up of a finger or two.

"He's done. We can't put him back in there. Go get Subject 18-" He placed a hand on whoever was talking, stopping them. Closing his eyes, he opened them and took a deep breath.

"I'm fine."

"Erik, remember what I said about becoming unstable? That was what happened to you. We can't put you back in there."

"I am fine. Just need to get used to it." He sat up. Or at least he tried to. He had to catch himself otherwise he would have crashed back on the floor.

"You physically can't go back in," Ms. Rikkin warned him.

"If he wants to go back in of his own accord, I don't see why we shouldn't let him."

Everyone turned to see the man from earlier walk in. Erik didn't know when he left the observatory room, but he was certainly not watching anymore. His hands were in his trouser pockets, a slow, lingering walk as he stopped at the edge of the spotlight lit area of the Animus. His expression was carefully blank as was the way he said his words.

He was definitely a powerful man now that Erik was allowed to get a closer look of him. He was relaxed compared to the others. He didn't see this as detrimental as the others did then, just a small set back. Erik wasn't blind to the room around him either. The second he spoke, everyone went quiet and listened. He was a quiet man then. Quiet and careful so that his words would always be heard.

This man was definitely Mr. Rikkin.

"You know-" Ms. Rikkin started but her father lifted his hand to silence her.

"I am aware of the health difficulties that may arise, Sofia. That being said, we will allow him to go back in if he wants. The second you see any changes in his status, we will pull him out." He looked at Erik and Erik felt the need to sit up straighter, to not look weaker. "Is that clear? We will not risk the Subject's life. Not just yet."

That yet at the end put Erik on edge but he said nothing as the man retreated out the doors once again. Erik didn't see him enter the observatory again. It seemed he was done seeing whatever he wanted to see.

"Well, you heard Mr. Rikkin. We need to get started," Vidic clapped his hands and the crew from before helped Erik up and attached the arm to his belt once again.

Erik didn't feel one hundred percent. Hell, he didn't even feel fifty percent okay at the moment, but he could do this.

"I can tell you the name of the organization who killed your mother. The full organization. Not just the people who were assigned there, but the head who gave the word go."

Well, when that was on the table, it was fine.

"We are starting the Animus. Clear the area!" Shouted Lucy. Everyone backed away into the shadows, buttons being pressed and the lights being refocused.

"Sofia, I'm going to need you to watch Erik for me."

Erik didn't know how he heard it over the loud machinery and vibrations of technology, but he focused on the conversation. Something to keep him grounded and not going completely wrong in an instant.

"Why?"

"Subject 18 has been in the Animus for a while. Someone needs to be on standby should things go wrong. You remember the last time we left him in too long. We can't allow any more damage."

He tried to hear more of the conversation, but before he could catch an inkling, the images were being broadcasted once again, throwing yet another scene in front of him he hardly knew.

…

Nicolo woke up in a room. It was quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind whistling through founded cracks in the wall. A faint scent of a lot of things he wasn't used to smelling filled the air. Parchment? Some kind of oil? He couldn't tell. It was a new experience. A new place. He was in a room he hadn't seen in his life, and that was saying something considering he has seen plenty with his youth.

His boasting rights aside, none of them were like this place.

It was an average sized room, but all the tables, scrolls, and scattered canvases made it appear more compact. It was barely lit and carried an almost disused scent to the air, but it also had the paradox of presence. Someone definitely lived here and made this place their own. Nicolo just couldn't think of anyone he knew who would live here.

Well, whoever did live here, he really shouldn't intrude more than he already had. His mother was going to kill him. No, she would scold him and screech at his reckless habits, maybe mention how that girl he fancied two months ago still was una puttana and he should leave her (he already did but his mother liked bringing up his failed attempts at a love life more than he liked), before murdering him.

His father would turn the other cheek. Nicolo shuddered at the thought of what his father would say to him. Probably something along the lines of disappointment or just silence in all its unjustified glory. Nicolo dreaded that far more than what the man would actually say.

Even though he was mentally reciting the Sign of The Cross in his head and muttering additional prayers – Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Mi permetta di vivere per vedere un altro giorno. Amen. – to allow him to live, he still felt he needed to get home.

Groaning, he attempted to get up.

Mio Dio, he almost choked up as the strains came back to him in a ten-fold. It was incredibly, embarrassingly difficult. There was an aching in every single one of his bones but, luckily, nothing was broken.

Perhaps he shouldn't use luckily. He was certain this went far past luck. Luck would have just left him alive in some form. No, this was farther than luck. It was more like a miracle. A miracolo if he ever believed in such possibilities (and he usually didn't.) He always liked to think his successes (rarely his failures) as his doing – nothing that sounded like someone else had a hand in it. It wasn't nearly as impressive sounding. Didn't make for any good stories, either.

Whether this was due to luck, a miracle, or some other divine intervention, Nicolo was thankful. Death had greeted him coldly but only glanced off his heart. It didn't seep in and consume him, nor did it leave any reminders. Though he was certain that the cobblestone streets rushing up to his face would give him terrifying nightmares until he saw them as old enemies, he was happy to be alive because in all reality he really shouldn't be.

Nevertheless, moving hurt like a demon clawing at his back, and he had bite his lip to keep from making too much noise. God, how badly had he fallen?

Just because he survived, didn't mean he survived without injury.

It didn't matter. Not at the moment anyhow. He could survey the damage when he got back home. He didn't want to stay here long enough for whoever brought him here to come back. He knew that he probably owed the man or woman his life since he thought he was as good as dead with the fall, but remaining in this place was almost too much.

Scooting off the table he had apparently been placed on, he gripped the edge with every finger and nail possible as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

He thought he was doing a good job until the world decided to tilt suddenly.

"Careful now!" He heard as strong hands grabbed his waist to keep him steady. "You've had quite the fall. A bit daring if I would like to point out – judging from your stature. It's a miracle you're even alive now. Un benedizione."

And who are you? Nicolo wanted to immediately say in his defense. He didn't like his actions being questioned. He didn't like anything he did being questioned. They always had a purpose. He never made mistakes and this man shouldn't be judging someone he only just met!

But the man meant well, and, well, Nicolo was being a little bit of un monello, as his sister loved to call him on a daily basis.

"Grazie," Nicolo huffed, his arm around the man's neck as he lowered him back to the table. This time he opted to just sitting up. Perhaps he wasn't ready to walk yet. He kept his eyes closed for safe measure, waiting for the headache to subside. He felt like the world had decided to try and drop him and he held on by the tip of his finger.

"Prego. Now that you are awake, maybe we can have proper introductions, yes? I believe I deserve to know who I am talking to."

"Introductions?" Nicolo opened his eyes and was met with curious blue ones. They were wide and seemed to be asking a million questions and then answering them all in the same moment. He couldn't tell how old the man could be. His face shouted that he may be closer to himself but those eyes spoke a different story as well as the beard that had begun to grow down his chin and along his jaw line.

"Wait a second. I know this man." Erik thought for the first time since he entered the Animus. "Subject 18?"

He got no answer to his question and watched through the eyes of Nicolo as he was trying to decide if he wanted to tell his name. Eventually, the boy decided there was no harm in trying.

"Nicolo de Altimari," He spoke, lifting his head and straightening his back. With a name like Altimari, you didn't bend your back and mutter it. It was a name and a strong one. A good name. A proud name that he carried with as much satisfaction as physically possible from a name.

"A pleasure, Nicolo." The man smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. It was an infectious smile and Nicolo found himself chuckling a little. "My name is Leonardo da Vinci."

Wait a second. Nicolo backed up and focused on the man. He had heard of a Leonardo somewhere. Bits of the name and some rumors surrounding him from around Florence. "Da Vinci…. Like the magnifico painter?"

The man grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "Ah… well, the same Da Vinci, however, I must assure you that my work is not as great as you may hear. Not yet. Still a work in progress. But one day it will be better than magnifico!" He winked at him and Nicolo laughed at the gesture.

"Whether you are or are not it doesn't matter. I must be on my way home. La mia famiglia will be worried. As is, I'm not sure how long I've been here."

Leonardo tilted his head. "Your sister should be returning soon. She left to inform your family. She said for you not to leave until she returned." Which roughly translated to, "I'm not letting you leave under my watch. I'm sorry." Which was fair he supposed.

Nevertheless, Nicolo's face warmed when he heard this. He was basically being treated as a bambino, a boy, by a man who can't be that much older than himself – maybe 4 or 5 years at most!

Leonardo didn't sense any of the discomfort and continued on. "The both of you are very good at what you do."

"Scusa a me?" Nicolo asked, furrowing his brows at what the man could be talking about.

The man waved his hand in a vague gesture. "The way you both travel. Through the sky. It is a breath-taking sight to witness. You both perform it wonderfully in my opinion."

That was a first for Nicolo to hear. "Ah… mi sorella is the better one. I still have a ways to go."

The man hummed to himself and leaned against one of the other tables, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to be mulling over something, and Nicolo didn't have any need to disrupt whatever it was. He wasn't exactly desperate for conversation with this man. He seemed far above the boy by a wide margin that Nicolo couldn't begin to understand. Probably an intellect or someone of that degree. He wouldn't be surprised.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the man spoke once again.

"Your sister – Corina, am I correct? She told me her name before she left, you see – is a natural, but you have your own advantages, too. She moves like she was made to fly. Like the sky is the limit. You move like you're rebelling against a rule – granting yourself your own wings. Am I making any sense?"

"Not really," Nicolo admitted, but Leonardo waved his hand.

"Ah, well, needless to say, the way you moved… It was beautiful, Nicolo. The strength and skill you already exhibit can only get better, yes? You shall fly yet! I still have a only sketches and parts of a puzzle to give me the same effect." His eyes grew distant for a moment before he shook his head and smiled at the boy pleasantly.

Who was this man? He couldn't place him. The boy didn't exactly not like him, but he wasn't sure if he liked being in his presence for extended periods of time either. His voice begged for people to listen. The way he watched Nicolo was like he was picking at a puzzle. It was intriguing and a little bit disturbing for a night of almost-death from a fall and potential-death from the family.

Nevertheless, the still liked what the man said. The way he worded it. You move like you're rebelling against a rule – granting yourself your own wings.

Well, when put like that, Nicolo couldn't help but grin. He liked Leonardo. He was a little weird, a little eccentric maybe, but his heart was in the right place.

"It is probably best that we get you walking as soon as you can. Your sister doesn't seem the type of carry you around, I'm afraid."

He laughed at the truth of the statement. "No. She would rather let me crawl and poke fun than do such." Testing the waters with one leg, he slowly lowered himself to the floor. He kept a tight grip on the edge of the table until he was certain he could stand on his own two feet. It hurt moving his legs, or using the muscle in general, but it was possible.

He gave a few stuttered breaths and met Leonardo's eyes. The man looked ready to catch him again if need be, but he was fine. At least he thought so. "I think I am well."

Leonardo gave a sigh of relief. "Bene. I'm going to go fetch us something to eat. I think I can say for the both of us that we need it. Make yourself at home and move around. Movement is the best cure to soreness, Nicolo." Without any agreement, the man wandered off. Nicolo didn't know how he would be able to find anything in this place, but let the man be.

Meandering around the room at a slow pace he disliked heavily, Nicolo observed the place he had landed himself in. The multiple shelves with an assortment of books and pottery were a huge part of the room and most of the books didn't even stay on the shelf it seemed. More books were scattered across the few tables Leonardo had around the room, some of them open and heavily written upon in a scrawl the boy couldn't translate for the life of him. Parchment scrolls were stacked in a small alcove, some of them dusty and others new. It was like the man didn't know what to do with his life but… whatever it was he did.

Speaking of which…

Nicolo walked over to the far corner. There was an easel up but no canvas. They all seemed stacked and covered in the corner.

Curiosity got the better of him and he lifted one of the cloths hiding the picture.

Mi dio. Nicolo swore under his breath as he flipped the cotton cloth behind the canvas completely.

"Nicolo, I don't have much I'm afraid but I do have-"

"Did you paint this?"

Leonardo stopped speaking and Nicolo heard the sound of him putting whatever he had down as he walked over to see what he was talking about. When he finally the picture, he tightened his lips.

"Yes. I did paint this, but it's not finished."

"You're a maestro."

"Oh, no. I assure you that I am not." He let out a laugh that sounded almost embarrassed for his work. "The woman it's off of didn't even return for me to finish it."

"Then she must be blind."

"As are you, fratello."

Nicolo cringed as he heard his sisters voice. She had definitely inherited the stern voice his mother liked to use often when he caused mischief, that was for sure.

Turning around slowly, he gave a sheepish grin. "Ciao, Carina."

"Don't you 'Ciao Carina' me, stupido. Do you realize what happened?"

"I missed a ledge and fell."

"And almost died!" Carina screeched and both he and Leonardo winced. "Since you're walking now, let's go. Mama was about to have a heart attack when I told her about la tua caduta. I doubt she's going to let you out of her sight for a while, fratello."

"Fine. Can I say my goodbyes first?"

She let out a low suffering sigh. "Yes. Say goodbye and then we must leave. Papa is furious right now. With you and me." With that, she walked out of the door with a slam.

"Definitely a force to be reckoned with, isn't she?" Leonardo mused quietly.

"You don't know the half of it," Nicolo sighed. "But if she says I must go then so be it. Thank you for saving me, Leonardo. I owe you my life. Should you need anything…"

Leonardo waved his hand. "I don't help in terms of bribery, Nicolo. As long as you are able to attempt your flight again, I think that is all the thanks I need. Now, be off. I fear for what your sister would do to both of us if you take too long."

Nicolo laughed and with a wave, left the room of the maestro.

…

"His vitals are a little off. We are cutting the simulation."

Slowly, the landscape around Erik drifted off, and he was released of the arm and the belt. The hidden blades were pulled off his wrists.

"Are we done?" he stated. His breath was haggard and for a moment he thought he was seeing Leonardo still standing in front of him, smiling with a knowing look in his eyes, before he blinked and the maestro disappeared. "Because I'm not going back in there for a round three. Despite popular belief, I don't believe 'third times a charm' applies here." A few chuckles rang out before being silenced by someone.

When he got no answer (which he was really beginning to grow tired of) he turned to Sofia and Vidic who seemed to be having a mental glaring contest. Erik briefly wondered who was winning when he repeated himself, "Are we finished?"

"Hardly," Vidic retorted but Sofia sent him a glare. Point for Ms. Rikkin. Zero for Vidic.

"For now. Since this was your first time, it makes sense that we would get more of your ancestor's early life before he became… well, we are going to have to do it again needless to say. Hopefully next time we will be further ahead."

So in other words this time was useless. He was no step closer to the information he wanted than when he first went in. Damn it. "Great. But the man, Leonardo Da Vinci" And he couldn't really believe he had really spoken to the man. He was a genius, and Erik had spoken to him, or at least vicariously, through Nicolo. "He looked like Charles. Almost exactly like him except for perhaps the hair and beard. Why?"

"He's an experiment." The same answer he got last time. He was seriously beginning to hate that answer.

He understood well enough that Charles was an experiment. In fact, Erik could have figured that out instantly after the first minute he talked to the man. Shit, at this point even Erik was an experiment. Shouldn't that give him a "plus one" advantage over being kept in the dark in all of this? Especially about a man who was apparently involved in his past life?

His most logical answer was: yes.

But it didn't seem he was going to get anything out of those sealed lips. He needed to ask the source. That was, if he wasn't as tired as Erik felt. Erik felt like he went to hell, got torn into pieces by the Devil himself, put back together all wrong, and then blind-folded on his trek back. He did not feel right in any sense of the word.

He couldn't even begin to fathom what Charles would feel like.

After they deemed him healthy to walk on his own, they released him to leave the room. He was allowed to go anywhere that was authorized to him – so basically his room, the connection room (he needed to get the actual room name next time he talked to Lucy) or the cafeteria. He didn't feel like going to see pictures of his mother nor did he want to sleep after what happened (what kind of dreams would that produce? He didn't want to find out. No thank you) so he found himself drifting to the cafeteria.

There wouldn't be many people in it, considering how late it was. The sun was completely down outside the windows which meant it was probably well past dinner. That was fine. Erik didn't really feel like talking to anyone after what he had just been through. Especially the Creed should they choose to make their appearance.

Erik felt like hell. The same feeling he got after he had gone through one of his father's training sessions. Arms and legs so sore that moving was similar to conjuring a demon to push its claws directly into every single one of his muscles. The burning sensation in his lungs. The way a pulsing headache was vibrating in his temples from either lack of sleep, food, water, or all of the above. It was torturous but he managed. This was nothing. That was what he kept telling himself. It was nothing compared to being dead or worse.

When he got to the cafeteria, it was expectedly empty. Falling into the first seat available, he pinched his nose to try to alleviate the headache that was making itself comfortable and very known in his skull. Damn it.

The same waitress came by, and he told her the same thing. He didn't feel up to trying new things.

Screw new things. New things were going to lead to him getting killed. A seizure? Really? He had never had one before this… whatever this was. He had actually been quite healthy, despite the popular contradiction of his home in which alcohol, hot pockets, and the multitude of ramen cups rested.

New things were not going to end well for Erik. So he would just stay with their specialty meal. He wasn't picky. It was food all the same.

For a while, it was just him and the silence. Nothing more than that. His breathing broke it up occasionally, or the muttered curses he swore up and down to whoever created that machine. Damning them to the pits of hell. Hoping they kicked a wall with their little toe or stepped on a fucking lego (because those things were the creations that hell spawned and laughed at the fates of millions of living people and their screeches of pain.)

But then he heard a soft shuffling followed by a tapping of heels. The heels were familiar, the shuffling, however, was not.

"Careful now, Charles. You've been through a lot. We shouldn't have kept you in that long."

"…I'm fine. Used to it. It's nothing new." They were most certainly Charles's words but they were heavily slurred and exhausted.

When they came around the corner, Erik saw Charles and was one second from getting up to help the man from the state he was in.

Charles looked pale and not just the normal pale that came from being in this place too long, but pale in the sense that he was whiter than a sheet. He looked like someone took bleach and rubbed his skin until there was no color left or any strength. His arm was thrown around Lucy's neck as they shuffled forward, but he wasn't watching where he was going. His head was down and his eyes, from what Erik could see, were closed. Completely so. Maybe even squeezed shut as if he was trying to fight something.

"No, Charles. It isn't fine. Erik!" Lucy gave a sigh of relief as she saw him. "Fantastic timing. Can you please help me bring Charles to the table?"

Erik hesitated for a moment before nodding, walking over despite his soreness to help Charles. He wrapped an arm around his waist and slowly walked over to the table he was at before.

Once they had successfully seated him, Lucy let out a nervous sigh and ran a hand through her hair. By this point Erik was certain her mean side was a façade. She looked nervous but not the same nervous that came with losing potential results. The nervous you got when someone got hurt under your watch. "I'm going to have to leave him here with you for a moment so I can retrieve a first aid kit. I need to take his vitals. He needs to eat something. Just a little bit. I'm not sure how the machine affected him. Can I trust to leave him in your care?"

Erik watched the man sway as he fought to stay upright. There was no question he needed aid and Erik, despite only meeting him that day, liked him enough to hold a pinch of worry. Enough in his books for his eventual answer. "He's safe with me. Go."

She hesitated, looking at them as if under the debate that determined the fate of the universe, but nodded and left, heels clacking against the floor in a quickened pace.

Once they were alone, Charles seemed to sag against Erik's side on the bench. His head rested against Erik's shoulder, and a part of him wanted to push him off because no. He had space and he liked keeping said space, however, one look at Charles told him that if he pushed the man then he wouldn't be catching himself should he fall so he bit the retort on the tip of his tongue and sucked it up.

Like he said: He liked Charles a pinch enough to not be a complete prick.

"Do you want anything to eat? You probably should eat something."

"Should and want are two completely different things, Erik," Charles mumbled against his shoulder, taking deep breaths. "I should eat, yes, but I currently feel as if the universe is tilting upside down, so I'm not sure if it would be any use."

"Okay," Erik said slowly, tapping his foot anxiously. What was taking the lady so long? He swore they were quicker last time with his meal. Probably texting or doing whatever they did here on their spare time. Flappy bird or some stupid game like that perhaps. "What happened in there?"

"The same usual routine. Placed me in an Animus and left me in there a bit too long. It wasn't their fault. It usually isn't."

Liar. He wanted to call out but he bit his tongue again. "Shouldn't they be monitoring you?"

Charles shrugged. "Probably, however, I'm not quite as important as you and Subject 17. An experiment."

There it was again. An experiment. What Erik wanted to know was why he was an experiment and what of. Everyone was being so hush-hush about it that it was almost as intriguing as the item they were trying to retrieve in order to breach "world peace" or whatever nonsense.

He tried not to sound interested. His… friend? Accomplice? Well, whatever he was, he was hurting and Erik wasn't the type of prey on the weak in their most vulnerable. "I heard something about that. Care to explain?"

There was a laugh so he must have failed. "Maybe another time, my friend. I don't feel quite up to thinking if you can understand."

Yeah, he got that. He didn't really want to do anything really. Charles looked as if he was feeling that on a magnified scale.

Eventually the food came over (thank God.) Despite Charles's complaints, Erik forced him to eat something. He kind of liked the guy which came hand in hand with not allowing him to starve, okay? Just a little bit of the meat and potatoes to make sure he had something in him. Charles didn't seem too happy but only grumbled between bites. Something about Erik being an "insufferable prick" which made Erik chuckle to himself.

Soon after Lucy returned with the first aid and took Charles's vitals. Once she was finished, she concluded he was suffering an intense round of physical and emotional exhaustion and needed to rest for a few days before they placed him back in the Animus.

"Erik, I'm going to return Charles to his room. I doubt he's going to be able to get there himself. Considering they are relatively close and you need a code to get into the corridor, do you mind coming with? It would make things so much easier. You're stronger, and I don't think I can carry him should he pass out."

Erik watched as Charles rested on the table, pillowing his face in his arms as his chest lifted and fell. "Sure. I'm leaning that way, too. Might as well hit two birds with one stone, right?"

Lucy offered a small smile at his words as he moved to pick Charles's up. As much as he just wanted to be the cane for him to somehow walk to his room for, the man was absolutely out of it. There was no way he was walking. They'd have better luck dragging his body around like he was a corpse.

Erik winced at the term (probably the wrong word choice, Erik), jostling Charles a little as he fixed his arms to carry the man close to his chest. Charles mumbled something and turned into Erik's chest, saying something about "It being bloody cold in here" or another. He didn't let it get to him and simply shrugged when Lucy looked ten seconds from apologizing. He kind of got the feeling Charles's was a touchy-feely kind of guy and had prepped himself up when he was forcing him to eat.

They walked in silence to the corridor with their designated quarters. He heard Lucy mumble a goodnight as he lowered Charles on the bed, untangling his hands from Erik's shirt with little effort. They threw the comforter over him and turned off the lights before closing the door quietly.

The route to his room, though not that much farther away, gave off an awkward silence. Erik decided to fill it. "So what happened with him? Or are you not going to tell me either?"

Lucy sighed. "I don't know. We never really know. All we do know is that he unstabilized, and we were not there to catch him as soon as we should have. We don't know the damage that happened, if anything did happen at all. Nevertheless, he's not going back in there for a while."

"Why didn't you know?" Erik asked, seeing his room coming up slowly.

"Charles is a special case. When he unstabilizes, you truly do not know unless you watch him closely or he tells you. It's not as easy as if you were to have the same happen to you. His vitals don't jump and his brain shows very little change. Unless you know the brain of his like the back of your hand, knew when things went wrong, it's incredibly hard to pull him out of the Animus when he goes unstable. There is little we can do about it, but hope that he doesn't one day have a stroke or brain aneurysm."

"You make it sound like it happens often." Erik thought over his words and amended as an afterthought. "How often he goes unstable, I mean."

Lucy typed a few buttons in the keypad, and Erik's door slid open. "More times than I would like. That's for sure, but we can't prevent every bad thing. We can only keep it to a minimum."

Erik hummed in agreement. As soon as he entered the room, Lucy murmured a good night and the door slid shut. Once Erik hit the bed, he was out cold with Charles's words, Leonardo's words, and his ancestor's words chasing each other in circles he couldn't begin to understand.

A/N: Okay, so the main thing about this is the fact that I am using the Ezio timeline BUT there will be more timelines hinted, just because I love having history in my stories. And yes. I love Leonardo da Vinci in the AC series. He's a precious cinnamon roll and I just want to hug him I swear, but I talked to a few people about who Charles's ancestor should be and they all said Leo. So that is how it is. ^^"

So. Translation of my crappy Italian. I apolgozie. Again.

Sorella - sister

Si sta muovendo troppo in fretta - It roughly translates to: "It's moving too fast" but I meant to say "you're moving too fast." Ugh.

Fratello - brother

Traquillo - Be quiet

Affrettatevi - Hurry!

Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Mi permetta di vivere per vedere un altro giorno. Amen. - In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Let me live to see another day. Amen.

Un benediziona - A blessing

Un monello - a urchin (this made me laugh a little)

Grazie/Prego - Thank you/You're welcome

Scusa a me? - Excuse me?

La tua caduta - The fall

Most of these will be repeated next chapter so I won't retype them because I use a lot because I'm an idiot. Ugh. Well, hopefully you liked the chaoter haha.

Have a wonderful day!