I am in no way associated with the creators of Assassin's Creed 2. This story is merely a fanmade story, created with no thought or intention of financial gain, and only viewer pleasure.

I'm sorry if the Italian is off, lol. I used google translate, so odds are many things are wrong (: I tried though, and I think it makes it a bit more like the game.

Please enjoy.

He should've been able to predict it… it was all too cliché, a plot twist from a cheap novel one would gift only to a child. How could he not have seen this would happen? The man… that man had been like a ghost, a shadow. One could not keep a shadow locked up. The proof was in his hands. A note, and a feather. The man had escaped the police within the hour, and had followed Antoine home. It was the only explanation for the note he now held in his hands, a simple note that told him that the shadow had been impressed, and would be watching him from now on. He didn't know what it meant, but it terrified him. All he could see was the satisfied look on the man's face as he stood up, hand red from the blood that had coated the guard's throat.

Dawn found him re-reading the note over and over again, a simple two lines, and a name. The name meant nothing to him except for a nagging suspicion that the name was famous somehow.

You're good. I'll be watching.

-Ezio Auditore de Firenze

With that note had been a single, white feather. He didn't know the meaning behind the object, but it fit the man somehow. A quite owl, flowing through the air, talons open for the kill. A single dove, flying unnoticed through the city, there and yet not.

What was he doing? Sitting here admiring the man who was now following him? That was ridiculous.

Spurred into motion, Antoine flung open the doors of his wardrobe, picking some clothes and setting them into a bag. He quickly combed his black mane, before settling a hat over it. He washed his mouth out, giving them a quick scrub just to be sure. He would bathe when he reached his family's villa… it wasn't too far from Venice, and bathing now would be ridiculous. He would just be filthy from traveling anyways. When he was sure he looked preventable, he locked everything up, carefully keeping the note and the feather in a corner of his bag. When he reached the villa he would ask around for this "Ezio Auditore". Someone had to know.

Finally convinced he was ready, Antoine headed outside, carefully locking his door after him. He had valuable wares inside his home, and he would have to pay the guards extra to keep an eye out on the house. A pain, but worth it.

Outside Venice Antoine stopped by the stables. He greeted his blue roan gelding affectionately, giving him a quick rubdown. He didn't get to see his horse often, but he adored the thing, affectionately naming him "Tuono", Thunder.

A quick saddle up later, and Antoine was heading for his family's villa. Hopefully things would go well.

"Why have you come here, bastardo, like you belong here? Aii! Get out! Out! OUT!"

Laughing, Antoine dodged a flying pan, wincing when it hit the tree behind him. "Mia sorella, my sister! What is this? Have you missed me so much? Where is your husband, and that rascal son of yours?" He dodged again, this time from a rolling pin. His sister, Elisa, was fuming, and for once he didn't know why.

"You know why, you cane! You dog! Little Cristiano left soon after you, talking about his amazing zio, his astounding uncle! He left for the city, to become a blacksmith like you! How dare you, you ratto! Rat!" Elisa descended the porch steps, swinging a broom at her brother, brandishing the tool like a weapon.

"Elisa! Elisa! 'Little Cristiano" is 16 now! Only 8 years younger than myself! You must let him live! Let him bloom! If he wishes to be a blacksmith, then meraviglioso! Wonderful! I applaud him! It is a prosperous job, he will take care of his family well. If you wish reassurance, I will take him on as a student myself, buono? Good? Is this okay with you, darling sorella?"

Elisa Venoza was a spitfire of a woman, a full 16 years older than her little brother. She had married Frediano Venoza when Antoine was just 4 years old, and they had raised him together. Four years later, Elisa had given birth to Cristiano, and Antoine had helped raised him. Antoine had adored Elisa, and had so helped raised Cristiano, until the boy seemed to latch on Antoine, admiring him as a great man. It was highly embarrassing, and yet nice as well.

Now, though, Antoine had to defend himself. He grabbed the broom as she raised it once more, and kept her from swinging again. She glared at him, and he swore that if eyes were daggers, he would be dead. Probably twice.

"Elisa," he continued, voice lowered and calmer. "Relaxed, sorella. No harm will come to Cristiano. He has to grow up sometime, and he has chosen a fine profession to join. He will not go to war like some boys, and he will not guard a building like some men. He will be well-paid, and he will look like a handsome young man, too. Soon he will marry, and you will have grandchildren… I'm geloso, jealous, sorella. Congratulations." He held onto the broom and used it as a leverage, pulling her into a hug. She resisted for a moment, then hugged him back, too, fiercely.

"Idiota. I missed you. Come home more often," she whispered, before pushing off of him and smiling up at him, tears in her green eyes. "Come," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. "I made supper, and we have much to catch up on."