Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing! No Ezio. No Altair. I own nothing. This is purely for amusement, nothing else!

Story Info

Summary: Life or Death. That's usually what it all comes down to. But not for me. I got something else. I got a choice. Now follow me Olivia Steel, as I thrown into a world I never believed true and try to change a shattered future.

Pairings: Eventual! Ezio/OC, Mentions of Ezio/Many, Mentions OC/others.

Thank you, souldriven, Hawklan, Soxxy Moxxy Lacks A Lung, LarrythePumpkin, madisongjohnson, for your reviews. Thank you all or all the follows and favorites and readers! You guys keep me going.

HEY! MAY BE UPPING THE RATING TO M! JUST TO LET YOU GUYS AND GALS KNOW!

Originally this chapter was longer, but I decided that it needed to be split into two parts so I didn't shove a whole lot of plot down you all's throat at once. (My friend just made a perverted comment that I shan't repeat)

Edited: 1/27/2018

Updated: 1/29/2018


Chapter Seven

'All That's Gold doesn't Glitter Pt 1'


Tuscany 1474, November

Beads of sweat rolled down her cheek, as her dark stormy eyes concentrated on a spot on the wall. It had been a week since Federico left and lot of things have happened. Firstly, Olivia realized much to her chagrin, she missed the banter Federico provided. She would never admit this out loud; she would rather stab herself with a hidden blade right in the eye. Secondly, Livvy finally broke down and went to a doctor, though it was touch and go for a split second. The words goat urine and lead almost sent her sprinting in the other direction. But she couldn't (even if she had tried.) Her nostrils flared as she drew in a long shaking breath, pulled herself up and chin over the wooden beam. Her running around playing hero and dueling left her with so many bruises, cuts and sore limbs. When she got up the morning after, she had barely made it to bid Federico farewell. Seriously, she found out she had muscles in places she had never been aware had muscles!

Which is why, Livvy despite the pain, was trying to push herself. The more she worked her body, the more it would become accustom to the strain that it would be under. So she continued her pull ups, despite the fact her sore limbs shook under the effort. She bit her lip forcing her thoughts on something other than painful burn coursing through her.

The Auditores and the Brotherhood.

She wasn't sure how to approach them, or even to approach them yet. They were a group that needed more than someone's word. For heaven's sake, their motto was: Nothing is True. If that doesn't scream of some deep seeded trust issues than she didn't know what did. So that meant she needed some kind of proof, and that was not something she had. It was partially why she had offered Federico an olive branch(1), hoping he would accept. It would give her a way to keep an eye on them, and protect them from a distance till she could find or needed another way. She felt slightly guilty about using Federico, but it was to save him, so that eased the churning emotion up at little bit.

Her plan was by no means complete or cohesive. It was more like the cliff notes of a plan rather than the whole thing. But she did have two years before the events of Ezio's story started to unfold. Two years to learn and adapt to this new world, and hopefully by the time came, she would be strong enough to save them all. Her fingers slipped off the wooden beam and she landed hard on her backside. Pain shattered up her tailbone, and she let out a low-pitched whine before she flopped back against the floor with a defeated expression on her face.

She hoped two years was really enough time.


Gaspare had been raised by a God fearing father with a big heart, and mother who had been so strong that she could have carried the world onto her back without breaking a sweat. They had no great wealth, or title, but they had what mattered. They had love, respect, and a strong sense of right and wrong that had taught him a great many things, and had engrained upon him a strong set of morals. His parents had been taken by a plague, and he had become a guard when their family farm had been seized by the city to pay off a debt that his father supposedly owned, though Gaspare had been shown no proof. But he had been in no position to fight it like so many others, and that's when he learned about the shadows of grays that sat between the rights and the wrongs.

And that sometimes—most times, that is where people fell.

He had done things that his father would have been disappointed in order to protect his life, and to help a dying city thrive in some small way against Salmoni. But his mother would have smiled at him, and said, "Always push back, Gaspare. If you give people an inch, they will take the mile." It was how he managed to survive and stay alive. Even now in the face of Salmoni giving a violent tirade from beyond the door he stood stationed at, he clung to the notion that biting his tongue to fight another day and that eventually his efforts would pay off. However, after the prison incident and where all the guards knew that there were traitors—the Marks they called them for the red mark that had been upon their armor that fateful, dogs of the Red Hood—amongst them. Some had been caught, but they revealed no names.

All knew what was on the line here, and Gaspare only hoped that his identity was still hidden.

"I have everything under control," Salmoni stated, his tone confident yet deferent to the other person in the room. "There is no need for such a visit."

"Years of wasted effort on a prison, and in a single night under your control, under the men in your command, it goes up in flames. My allies and I are not pleased by this," another voice came, as sharp as a black and hissed like an angry snake. "I have heard reports of all manner of things, but none of this Red Hood. Are you telling me by saying there is no need for such a visit that he has been dealt with?"

Gaspare felt his heart jolt in his chest, and it took everything in him not to have an outward reaction. He had known that Olivia's theatrics down at the prison would make a stir, but he had not realized how quickly enemies would be upon San Gimignano in hunt for the Red hood.

"He is a minor concern in the grand scheme of things. I will not lose my power because some street rat has gotten a notion in his head that he can the save the people. A man is a man, he can be easily crushed," Salmoni's arrogance was impossible not to hear in his voice.

"Hmm. Our plans for Italia have been put in place for several years now, meticulous and well thought out like a well-kept garden. Everything has a proper place, and it must be carefully maintained so weeds cannot be tolerated fester, cannot grow because where one weed sprouts up more will surely follow. This Red Hood is like a weed, planting seeds in the minds of the people and thus they grow idealistic with thoughts of heroes, thoughts of hope," the other man said, in a tone so dark and cold that Gaspare was surprised not see icicle form along the threshold. "Do take care of the part of the garden you monitor, Salmoni. If you cannot keep everything the way it must be, then you will find how easily you can be replaced. We wouldn't want to be forced to take such drastic measures, now would we?"

Dread clawed at Gaspare's heart. His mind raced with the implications of this conversation, and a feeling raced through his blood like quicksilver.

There was a moment of complete silence, and then came Salmoni's voice quaking slightly in fear, "Of course."

Footsteps grew closer to the door, and Salmnoi opened it allowing his visitor to step through. The guest wasn't a tall man, but he was stocky built covered in a velvet black cloak with red trimming. Upon the left breast of his cloak was an intricately woven red cross. His eyes raised and he sent the two guards a slightly piercing gaze before walking away with two of his own men flanking each of his sides. Gaspare watched him, feeling the ice in his blood slowly unthaw the further and further the man walked away.

"Guards," Salmoni said, stiffly.

Gaspare and the other guard turned to give him their undivided attention. Salmoni's beady and black eyes were filled with rage and loathing. "Both of you were stationed at the prison? When the Red Hood was there?" He asked, his tone dark and forbidding.

Gaspare felt a twinge of panic course through him as he watched Salmoni's hand rest on the pommel of his blade. He could see his death at the end of that blade, but by some grace, he said in an even tone, "Yes, sir."

"Y-yes, sir," the other guard replied, a second later.

Gaspare wouldn't lie that when Salmoni's gaze flickered on him, he was sure the other man knew he had helped Livvy take down the prison. The sheer intensity of his glare that seemed to pierce right through him, but instead of fear, he felt a strange sense of respite. He had always known that his actions could—and likely would—come back to haunt him, but he did not regret them for a second. He could go into the next life with his head held high.

Salmoni pulled out his blade and Gaspare watched the man stepped towards them, but Gaspare didn't flinch. Didn't back down. He would not to a man like Salmoni. The blade struck out, piercing flesh and Gaspare waited for the burst of pain to flood through him. Instead, no pain came and the cry of pain came from the guard beside him. He turned his eyes looking shocked as his fellow guard gurgled and coughed up blood, before Salmoni ripped the blade free from his chest. He crashed to the floor, and after a few agonizing moments, went still.

Gaspare swallowed, barely keeping the sweat off his face. His dark eyes spared a sympathetic glance to the dead guard before his face turned into a blank and stoic mask. He tensed, when Salmoni turned to him, but to his surprise the man put his sword away.

"You've been promoted," the man snarled.

"Promoted?" Gaspare asked carefully.

"You will be heading the hunt for the menace known as the Red Hood," Salmoni informed him, coldly. His beady eyes drilled through Gaspare, searching for any sigh of discomfort or ill ease. "You have any qualms about that?"

Gaspare glanced at the other guard once more before looking Salmoni straight in the eye, replying coolly, "Of course not, sir."


Federico was not one to be at a loss for words, so why then was it so damn hard to pen a letter? It was rather aggravating situation he found himself in for he did not know what to say, or even how to sign the letter. They were not friends yet if their fresh start even managed to grow into such, and therefore did not share each other's confidence. However, he did not want the letter to feel cold and detached. If she was earnest in wanting a fresh start, then Federico must repay her in kind. He just wished there had been an easy answer as where to begin.

"What are you doing, Federico?" A nearly seventeen year old Ezio Auditore questioned, his older brother who sat at the table, seemingly frozen with pen and paper in hand.

Federico's head jerked upward in slight surprise before a smile crossed his features. He set the pen down and said, "Nothing of great importance." Tilting his head, he intently studied his younger sibling. "What troubles you, Ezio?"

Ezio shuffled before admitting. "Father."

Federico's eyebrows rose. "What about father?"

"Is it…normal for a banker to be going on so many trips out of the city?" Ezio asked, after a flicker of hesitation.

Federico was slightly startled by the question. He had known that eventually Ezio's curiosity would get the better of him, just as Federico's had. Father wished Ezio to have a couple of more years before officially training him, and allowing him on the secrets that Federico knew. Even though, Federico knew there was still much to learn. "Whatever makes you ask that?" He asked, his head tilted to the side.

"It's just…" Ezio trailed off for a moment, then muttered a curse underneath his breath. He ran a hand through his dark locks, frustrated. "It's just something Vieri said earlier."

"Ezio," Federico shook his head, "you know better than to listen to that drivel Vieri sprouts. Father is just a banker; don't let Vieri's words trouble you any longer."

Ezio stared at him, his dark tawny eyes trying to find any lie on his older brother's face before his shoulders slumped. "You are right. I should not have let Vieri get to me so. So, who are you writing a letter?" He asked, leaning forward to peer at the paper. It was completely blank, not even a name had been scribbled yet.

He blinked momentarily thrown by the sudden change in subject. "It is…it is a friend," he replied, once he got ahold of his wits.

"A friend, huh?" Ezio waggled his brow suggestively.

Federico cursed himself for teaching Ezio such ways in that moment and stated firmly folding the piece of parchment up. He would finish it later, he promised himself. "Just a friend."

"Bah!" Ezio teased. "Keep up this attitude, and you'll be all work and no play like Padre."

"I will not," Federico denied, faintly frightened by the thought.

"Oh? Then prove it," Ezio challenged.

"I will," Federico rose from the table, taking off after his younger brother.


Olivia made her way down the street, wearing her normal 'civilian' clothes. Wearing a red hooded cloak all the time would draw a bit of unwanted attention, after all. Today was the day when Olivia was going to decide just what to with this new crazy life she had been thrust into, and what to make of it. For now, she was purchasing all the necessities she needed, and was looking over the vegetables to check just how fresh they really were when she spotted a familiar soul out of the corner of her eye. "Good morning, Ciana," she greeted, with a smile and a tilt of her head.

Ciana looked momentarily surprised. "Good morn, Olivia. How are you?" The courtesan finally replied, with a basket looped on her arm and she looked a little bit restless.

"Very well," Livvy answered, honestly. Her grey eyes took in the dark circles underneath the blond's eyes and the pale pallor to her normally glowing caramel colored skin. She also looked like she had lost a little weight since last time they saw each other. "Yourself?"

"I've…been better," the courtesan whispered. "Cara…Cara's funeral is today. If you wanted to come, that is," the courtesan said, her fingers tightened around the basket handle until they were bloodless. "I think she would want you there."

Olivia felt like her entire body had been dumped into a vat of ice. The images of Cara's broken and twisted body pressed right up against her mind's eyes, and then were followed by memories of her mother's horrible funeral. She shoved down the sickness that threatened to spew up past her lips, and let out a slow, shaky breath. "I cannot promise anything more than to try to be there," she replied, after a good minute.

"Oh…alright," Ciana said, clearly disappointed.

She felt bad. She knew that Ciana was having a tough time, and part of her wished to help out. But funerals and death were things that Olivia had never been able to handle very well. Not since her own mother's funeral. Even after all these years, it was a phobia she hadn't been able to conquer. She went to turn away and walked onward when she literally bumped into someone. She was about to mutter an apology when she noticed the large, growing crowd. "What the hell?" she whispered out.

Ciana looked very confused. "What's going on?" the courtesan asked.

"Haven't the slightest clue," Livvy said, then reached out tapping a man on the shoulder. "Hey, buddy, what's going on?"

He frowned, but replied, "Salmoni. He's giving some kind of speech."

The effect was instantaneous. Ciana looked wide-eyed with in panic and fear, probably wondering what the horrible man was going to do now. Olivia had a more subdued reaction, her spine stiffened and her eyes narrowed his suspicion. There was a foreboding cloud that hung over her head, and she raised her chin, pushing herself onto her tippy toes to try and see over the crowd. She did so with little success, and made an aggravated noise in her throat. She went to push her way the front when a desperate hand seized her wrist.

"We should stay here," the courtesan whispered, holding tight.

Olivia frowned slightly, but abandoned her attempts to get closer. She crossed her arms over her chest, a sense of apprehension falling over her as she spotted guards moving through the crowd almost as if they were searching for something.

"Is that a guard?"

Livvy whirled to look where Ciana was looking through a break in the crowd and felt her mouth drop open in shock. It was Gaspare who stood upon the podium with a blank look on his face. She stared at him for a long moment unsure of what to make of this, only that she hoped he wasn't up there of his own volition.

"I thought all guards were ugly brutes." Her green eyes appraised Gaspare approvingly. "Such a shame he is a guard, I would like to…"

"Don't," Livvy choked, whether on laughter or shock, she didn't know. "Don't be that girl."

Ciana just smirked slightly then her smirk dropped into a venomous snarl. "It's him."

She didn't need clarification as a man strode out. He was thin hair, plump man dressed in overly extravagant finery that was a blatant smack in the face to the people whose money he extorted with unlawful taxes and more. What hair he was black as his beady malice filled eyes, and his large bristle mustached twitched, jiggling his oversized jaws that resembled a bit of bulldog. There was a sense of entitlement in the way he held himself, as if he felt himself truly above his common man like he was some sort of saint to their sinners. A hush fell over the crowd when had a strolled out, and Olivia could taste the fear and apprehension in the air. Fear tasted sharp and unkind on the tongue, and her tongue raked the back of her teeth in aggravation.

He displayed himself so openly. If only she had been an archer, then one good shot would have taken him and spared the people of San Gimignano his oppression. He eyed them all like they were bugs, no better than cockroaches to be smashed beneath his heel and it made her heart turn black with anger.

"Something is not right about this," said Ciana, warily. "Salmoni is many things, but he hates dramatics. He says such things are distasteful, and I can tell you a great many poets and bards have fallen prey to the noose because of that."

Livvy didn't say anything, but kept her eye on the man. Her expression was tight, and her stormy eyes darkened. If that were true then something had prompted Salmoni to change his behavior—desperation perhaps? The prison explosion couldn't have made his Templar handlers all that happy, but to what end did he come out her posturing like a rooster?

"Our beautiful San Gimignano, our city of towers has fallen prey to the most vicious kind of criminal. He does not only terrorize our little piece of Tuscany with theft, debauchery, but he also has taken to make you, the good people, to believe he is a friend, a kind hand in a desperate time. A hero," Salmoni sneered the word, his face twisted up in distaste. "But do not be deceived by this liar, The Red Hood."

A murmur broke out amongst the crowd. Ciana gasped, while Olivia closed her eyes in mute despair. Fuck, I knew it, she thought to herself, as her stomach plummeted ten stories. When her eyes pulled open, she sought out Gaspare and his expression remained unchanged. His dark eyes empty and unreadable, and she chewed on her lower lip worriedly. A guard passed them by without so much as a second glance, and Olivia glanced back at Salmoni, the rage of a thousand suns burning in her eyes.

"This person is a murderer, a cutthroat and a thief," Salmoni stated, firmly. "He is not some shining knight to place your hopes upon for he will only abuse your good will. He is nothing more than a selfish vagabond who does not deserve your loyalty, for he will only drain you and the city dry. I have done all that I can to apprehend this criminal, but he is still a large because of coconspirators that aid him at every turn. Know this, those found consorting with him will be considered equally as guilty and sentenced to death."

At least, that meant Gaspare had not told Salmoni about her or her identity. She had for a fleeting moment worried he had sold her out for his own protection, and now felt a margin of guilt for thinking such things about him. That guilt was buried underneath a fresh wave of ire at Salmoni's words. "I can't believe this," Livvy hissed to Ciana. "They are making the Red Hood sound little more than a…petty murdering thief. Which I…he's not."

But aren't you? An unbidden voice came to the forefront of her mind. You stole from people, and you blew up the prison, don't tell me you didn't think everyone survived. Olivia felt her whole world still, and whatever Salmoni's said next became little more than a mesh of unintelligent sounds to her ears. Her palms became sweaty and her heart was pounding painfully against her ribcage. A murderer? Me? The thought made her dizzy and horrible sick. It took everything took keep her standing.

Ciana sent her a concerned glance. "Are you alright?"

She fought against the wave of emotions that threatened to swallow her whole and held onto one thing. The fact that she had to do something about Salmoni's speech, and do it swiftly because the Red Hood could afford to take such an affront lying down. It would be seen as a sign of weakness, and right now, the only thing hope San Gimignano had was hope that the Red Hood would stand against Salmoni. "How much longer do you reckon he's going to be blowing hot air?" She asked Ciana, out of the corner of her mouth.

"He's a politician," Ciana pointed, out dryly. "He could be up there for days."

"Good point," Livvy admitted, with a humorless smile. "Stay here."

The courtesan frowned. "Where are you going?"

All Ciana received in reply was a enigmatic smile.


The people listened uneasily to the speech as the guards continued to move through the crowd. "A reward has been set for anyone who will help in the capture of—" Salmoni's pompous speech was cut off by a loud wolf whistle. Everyone's head turned to the rooftops and there standing with legs languidly crossed at the ankles, leaning back against the balcony railing stood the Red Hood. The Red Hood crossed her arms over her chest, with a tight smile upon her lips.

The Red Hood savored the baffled expression for a split second, but had to be more mindful of the fact he was precariously perched on a metal bar where hanging pot of flowers swayed on a chain below her. "Looking for me? That's what your little speech was all about, isn't it?" She asked, carefully to keep her voice deep enough to be passable as a male's. "Just a reason to blow hot air and hope for me to make an appearance, and have your guards march around like such good little sheep."

"Y-You!" Salmoni sputtered, shocked.

"Yes, me! After all the trouble you went to lure me out, I decided you deserved to be rewarded for such efforts," the Red Hood commented, tone suspiciously idle. There was a scattered laughter throughout the crowd, but the people were either too stunned by her appearance or too afraid of the guards to draw too much attention to themselves. "Now, I believe you wanted to talk?"

Salmoni finally gathered his wits. "Guards! Guards!"

"Guards! Guards!" The Red hood mocked him, underneath her breath, though not quietly enough judging by the way Salmoni venomous glared at her. His face turned a frightful shade of purple. The Red Hood waited for the guards to climb up to her, and hopped over the balcony railing to have good solid ground underneath her feet. When only two guards appeared, she shouted loudly, "Only two? I'm insulted!"

They drew their weapons out, and the Red hood felt her mouth twitch. She mentally berated herself for not putting her weapons with her suit in the hidey hole just above the Briar Rose Inn that was smack dab in the middle of the city, and only a minute away from here. She had noticed a few rocks crumbling, and at night time had cleared out a big enough space to make cache. Pulling herself back into the present, she glared at the guards. "Well, are you going to stand there? I haven't all day!"

One guard leapt forward, bringing the sword down in a large arc. The rogue sidestepped, feeling a whoosh of air flow past her letting her know that she missed that attack by the skin of her teeth. The second guard tripped her, sending her sprawling to the ground. She caught something shiny out of the corner of her eye and rolled out of the way, hearing the sword clang against the terrace. The guard stumbled back, jarred by the force. The Red Hood took this moment to roll to her feet and to tackle guard number two, shoving him straight off the balcony. There was a cry of panic, and she heard a loud thud. He's out. If he isn't, well, I actually pity the poor bas—A hiss escaped her lips as something ripped through her left leg. She whirled around, clasping her thigh with one hand and glared at the guard who held his blood stained sword proudly.

"Alright, now I'm pissed off," the Red Hood announced, angrily. She lunged forward, sending a fist to the guard's face. Her knuckles slammed against the brim of his helmet, barely scathing his face and painful tingles shot through the bones of her fingers. He elbowed her right in the cheek. Her skull rattled painfully and she nearly bit a hole clean through her lip. Blood filled her mouth, and she spat it out with curse. "You ass."

Her eyes moved over his form, taking his stance and when he lunged, she knew what to do. She fell to her knees, letting the sword flying over her head and sent a punch straight to his family jewels. The guard let go his sword, his hand reaching down as his eyes bulged so far out of his skull, the rogue was sure they would pop out. "And that is what you get for being a male chauvinistic society," Livvy told him, lightly before she grabbed him shoulders and shoved him with all her might off the edge of the balcony. There was a cry of fear before it was drowned out by a thud.

"Look at me!" The Red Hood said, proudly. "I'm all bada—aah. Ow." Doing that made her head throb, she pressed a hand against her cheek trying to soothe the pain away. It didn't work. "Okay, maybe only half of a badass…" She made her way over the edge of the balcony, and scalded up to the rooftop enjoying the burst of awe whispered that filled the air. Once she stood upon the roof, she turned and her eyes found Salmoni.

"I'm not an angel. I'm not a saint. What I am, and who I am is something I have fully accepted. You call me, thief and murderer. I will not deny my sins, I will bear them proudly like battle scars and if one day I am to pay for them, then I shall because I bear responsibility for who I am. Do you, Salmoni, bear the responsibility of just exactly what you are?" The Red Hood said, voice low and dangerous. Once the words started, they just flowed out of her soul and were filled with rage over the injustice that she had seen in this city. Of all the worn down people breaking underneath the subjugation, and how he dared to try to play like he was saving this city. It brought out her temper like nothing else had before. "You come out here to play to masses like you are some caring benefactor who wants what is best for San Gimignano when you are the abhorrent, disgusting soulless man who feasts upon these peoples' misfortunes like a glutton at dinner. How many lives have you destroyed? How many children starve in the streets due to you? How many families are now broken because of you? You have built you entire fortune and power upon the back and bones of the people you have exploited, the very people that you preach to on this very day.

"I say no more! Consider this a personal warning, Salmoni," the Red Hood finished, taking a step back and hid the wince as pain shot up her leg. "Your days are number. Soon San Gimignano will no lower have to cower in fear the shadow of the monster you are. When you die, the city will rejoice with dance and song and you will be nothing more than a bad memory."

When in doubt, use bravado. It throws off your enemies and makes you feel better. She thought to herself, eyeing Salmoni who looked like he was having an apoplectic fit of some kind.

"Guards! SEIZE HIM! I WANT HIS HEAD!"

"On a silver platter?" The Red Hood blurted out before she could help herself.

The laughter from the crowd was nice, but the loud roar of anger that spurred the stunned squadron of guards into motion. It also made the Red Hood's sense of self-preservation kicked in—yes, it did exist, it was just a bit like a unicorn and was very hard to find. "I think this is a good time to take my leave, no?" She said, with a jaunty wave and then turned on heel before the guards had even made it to the top of the roof. Their armor clinked and clanked, in their haste to catch up to her.

The Red Hood, thankfully, had always been a fast runner. It was a talent she was extremely grateful for, especially when she ducked around a corner and avoided an arrow that went spiraling past her head. Holy shit!

She slipped down the side of the building to the other scaffolding below, looking like a crazed squirrel with hurried pace and minor flailing. Her muscles ached and contracted underneath the effort. She definitely needed to build up more stamina. Arms wrapped around her waist, sending her to the ground. She rolled, burying her elbow into the guard's stomach before rolling again and ripping his arms away from her and then she quickly rolled off of him, and kicked him off the edge.

"AAHHHH!" Thud.

That pesky emotion of guilt hit her, but she reminded herself that they would kill her given the chance. She needed to worry about what was going on now, and she would drown in her emotions later. She flinched, when a kick to the face sent her back down. She tried to push herself up, but guards apparently liked to kick people when they were down. A white-hot fear and anger sliced through being reminded of the prison and the guards that were going to lock her in that sell to burn. The Red Hood hissed, holding up her arms trying to block the attack as one tried to stab her, and twisted his wrist. He cried out stumbling back, the other guard catching him to keep him from falling backwards.

She swiftly grabbed the knife and buried it into the ropes tethering the scaffolding to the roof and cut.

"What are you doing, idiota?" The guard demanded.

She ignored him and threw the knife, the guards leapt back, but he wasn't her aim. It was the other rope and the other end of the scaffold, bringing her heel down upon the knife and did it again, the rope severing. The guards lunged forward, and that when the scaffolding shifted unsteadily beneath them. She quickly curled her feet up, and then pressed them against the scaffolding. It quickly, creaked and started tilting away from the roof. She had only a split second to grab a nearby post, and cling to it before the scaffolding fell away. She took a moment, holding tight to the post and collected her breath. She felt a giggle—half hysterical, half mischievous—fall from her lips at the groans and cursed that came from below.

"You bastado!" One managed to shout, as he held his leg that was twisted in an awkward angle.

The Red Hood pulled herself up with a grunt, and got back onto the main part of the roof before she took off again. At least, she was getting fit and toned with all this running; every cloud has a silver lining. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw more guards that had climbed up on the rooftops, searching for her. Damn, why won't they just give up?

Her strength was failing, adrenaline would no longer be enough to keep her sprinting, and especially with each step it torn the wound on her leg wider and longer. She blanched, feeling the waterfall of blood pour down her leg like a fountain and it soaked her pants. One guard had caught up with her and slashed her side with his knife.

She bit her lip as a scream tore through her throat. Her feet stumbled and the next thing she knew was she stumbled off the roof. The drop, luckily hadn't been fatal, but sent a searing pain through her calves when she landed. "Damn," she cursed, sparing the people who back away from her a quick glance before running forward. She couldn't trust to blend in, she was barely good at it but how many people were wearing red hoods nowadays and were injured? There had to be somewhere to hide, she could hide. She turned around a corner when she saw it.

Her escape and she had never been happier to find a cart of hay in her life. She dove for it like a man dying of thirst would for water and her vision was filled with hay. Holding her breath, she listened while pressing down tightly on her side.

"Where did he go?"

There were a few exclamations and the Red Hood closed her eyes tightly hoping that they wouldn't check the cart. Her hands were curled into tight fits, and she fought hard to stay still and not move at all. She strained to hear what was going on over the pounding of her own heart, and her mouth was dry with panic.

"Can't believe that bastardo got away!" Another exclaimed.

She fought the urge to let out a laugh of relief, and waited until their voices faded away before she even dared to give her lungs the air they were begging for. Carefully, she placed a hand to her forehead and told herself that she would not pull another stunt like that. Not until she had trained more and could put up a better fight against a hoard of guards. After a moment, the Red Hood's lips quirked to the side as she thought that this certainly hadn't been what she had in mind when she woke up this morning. Note to self, tyrannical asshole don't like to be called out in public.


Four of the Brotherhood met within the safety of Monteriggioni's walls. It was one of few places that the Assassins could go without fear of the enemies' eyes and ears watching and listening. Niccolò Machiavelli stood, with his dark eyes were serious and sharp with intelligence. His arms were folded over his chest, and he studied the few codex pages that had been found and put on the wall in Mario's study. "The news coming out of San Gimignano has been grim and filled with bad tidings," said Niccolò, with a deep and heavy sigh. "I had thought if we cut down enough of Salmoni's allies then we would have a clear way to ending his reign."

"But the bastardo manages to replace all those in his organization," Mario grumbled, with a shake of his head. "Or someone is doing it for him."

"You fear he has already allied with the Templars, brother?" Giovanni asked, his eyes traced the map on the table carefully.

"Yes, I do. A man on his own is easily swept away. He is getting outside help to maintain his power of San Gimignano, but to what end would someone give such aid?" Mario replied, frowning. "The Templars do, and now through him they control the city and he is nothing more than a puppet."

"Who puppeteer has grown wholly dissatisfied," La Volpe commented, darkly. "Only a short time ago, messages that my spies had intercepted showed a great rapport between him and Francesco de Pazzi. Reassurances that the he would soon official join the ranks of the Templars. In light of recent events, the offer has been receded and from what I have gathered Salmoni has grown desperate to prove himself."

"What do you think that he will do to prove himself?" Niccolò asked.

"He could do a great number of things. I believe he could even go as so far to attack Florence, given that the Medici family is one of the Templars biggest threats," La Volpe answered, as he languidly paced the length of the room.

"Could Florence's forces hold them off?" Mario asked.

"Perhaps," Giovanni stated, wearily. "If all were on our side, I would be certain of this, but I've seen too many of men being bought off by the Pazzi. We may very well be on our own."

"Perhaps, I should go," La Volpe offered, "and see just what Salmoni's play is?"

Niccolò nodded. "Do that. And, La Volpe, if you determine him to be an immediate threat then do away with him. We have let him go too long," the man stated, seriously.

"As you say," La Volpe replied, with a slight smirk.

"I suppose that leaves us with one last thing to discuss," Giovanni said, standing up straight and away from the map that he had been examining. "The Red Hood."

"Yes," Niccolò tapped his chin, thoughtfully. "I have heard the strangest rumors of someone called the Red Hood."

"Ally or enemy?" Giovanni asked.

"That has yet to be determined."


Gaspare watched Salmoni who seemed rather smug of himself for one had been bested earlier the day by the Red Hood, in public. And yet, that didn't wipe the hideous grin off his face. It made his insides feel dirty and cold. He stood rigidly, his spine stiff and straight as he waited warily for the orders they were to receive.

"Tonight, gentlemen," Salmoni's voice sliced through the silence with all the subtle of a raging bull, it boomed and echoed off the walls. "Tonight, the Red Hood shall be no more."

Gaspare took in a careful breath, and bit his tongue harshly. If he asked what Salmoni meant by that, it would only draw unwanted attention to himself. After the close call, he needed to blend in with the rest of the guard and be just another faceless man amongst them. That didn't mean that he didn't feel his gut jerk harshly by the implication of Salmoni's words.

"Men like the Red Hood are inherently weak. It is their sentimental and bleeding hearts that make them vulnerable and allow them to be bled dry if only one learned just where to apply the pressure; a tricky little pest, the Red Hood, one that we need to kill before his ideals pollute the minds of the people," Salmoni stated, with a haughty sniff. "It our duty to see that does not happen."

Gaspe felt a spark of anger at the good woman he knew being called nothing more than a pest, but there was nothing he could do to defend her honor. Do to so would brand him a traitor and meet a grisly and senseless end.

"Do you know what my secret passion is? Poetic justice," Salmoni chuckled, darkly. "And when done right, it can be a man's greatest tool. I believe that this Red Hood should meet his demise in the same way that he brought shame down upon me."

The laughter that spilled out of Salmoni sent a horrible chill down Gaspare's back and the guard's eyes turned towards the military fort with a troubled stare.


Olivia had to keep herself from chewing at her lower lip since it was busted. The doctor could only give her a bit of salve—no goat urine—to treat the wound, and then proceed to stitch up the long cut along her thigh. Her hands clutched the edge of the cot in a knuckle white grip as the string tugged on her flesh when he pulled the thread carefully through. An uncomfortable prickling sensation ran along her skin, and a damp sweat broke out along the nape of her neck. She had never been more happy when the Il Dottore finished up his work.

"There you go," the doctor stated, setting down the curved needle into the tray next to the bag of coins that Olivia had paid him with. "This is the second time you've been here in that last week, I expect a much more time to pass before I see you again."

"Bene. I shall try," Livvy smiled, inclined her head in a nod. She stood up off the cot, gingerly putting weight on her leg. She stayed to the shadows, using them to her advantage and ducking down the alleyways to avoid the main roads. The guards rarely patrolled the dark, dank little corners and her red cape billowed behind her almost dramatically in the wind. If this had been a movie, then that would have been a money shot. She was almost to the little place she had made home when she heard a scream cut through the night. It was a bloodcurdling scream that jarred her down to the depths of her soul, and her head shot upward. Her eyes peered down a long alleyway and she just caught sight of two guards dragging a courtesan around the corner. "Fuck, not this again."

Anger soon replaced the fear and surprise, boiling up in her throat in a scream that she held tight behind tightly pressed lips. Olivia felt her feet twist abruptly from her pursuit of home, and heading straight towards the rescue. She couldn't let anything happened to that poor woman. She knew what men like that were capable of. The horrible and haunting image of Cara's body was never far off in her thoughts. It was by far not the only thing that filled the dark places of her mind, but the new addition had been the starring role in her most recent of nightmares.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and her hurt leg burned and ached in protest at the hasty pace that she set. Fresh adrenaline spiked through her blood to chase it off in the light of panic and wrath that surged up inside of her. She came around the corner, and there was no clear sight of the guards nor the courtesan they had abducted. Fright pierced through her heart like a lance, and then she heard it just beneath the wind. The sound of sobs just off in the distance, and she started forward only to stop for a moment. Her eyes looked up at the arch way to the walls and the turrets that were eerily similar to the prison.

Suppressing the shudder that rolled down her spine, Olivia crept underneath the archway and eyed everything around her warily. It was so quiet and there wasn't a soul in sight. A weighty unease fell over her mind, and she looked to her right to see the courtesan sitting on the cobblestone ground. Her hair was matted and tangled, the fabric of her dress ripped and torn. Bruises and dirt covered her skin, and she sat there with her face buried into her knees, rocking back and forth.

Every instinct in her body told her to run, but Olivia took a step forward anyways. "Are you alright?" She asked, her grey eyes stared unblinking at the mentally distraught woman. "Let me help—"

The courtesan had lunged forward, and Olivia dodged on instinct. The knife that had been aimed for her heart sailed past her, but the courtesan's attempt on her life had never really been intended to work. Livvy came to that realization when she felt something had bludgeon the back of her head, and her entire vision went black. Her entire body seemed to slump with shock and sets of hands grasped her, and dragged her about a foot or two, until she felt rope being wrapped tightly around her hands. She fought as best as she could, but she couldn't clear the dark dots in front of her eyes until the large metal gate slid shut.

She barely made out two guards and the courtesan standing there on the other side.

"Feel up to a little celebration afterwards?" The courtesan flirted, shamelessly. She wrapped arm through each of the guards, and giggled loudly as they pawed at her like a she was nothing more than a piece of meat.

Olivia shook her head, with a slight gag. Nausea rolled in the pit of her stomach for two very different reasons, and she fought to undo her bonds when suddenly a thought occurred to her. Why had they just left her here? Her eyes darted all around—all around what was obvious a military fort without a single guard in sight!

It was a trap.

A distinct smell littered the air, and she glanced down to see black powder covering the ground like snow would have if it had been winter. Her eyes went wide and she looked at the one guard on the other side who held a torch in his hand, and she knew immediately that it was the torch that would sent this place off with a boom. She had underestimated how crazy Salmoni truly was. He was so desperate to be rid of her that he had no qualms about blowing up the military fort right in San Gimignano. What kind of person did that? She tugged at her restraints that kept her tethered to a pole, and bent her neck so she could use her teeth to tear at the knot around her wrists. The coursing and foul tasting rope was abrasive and harsh against her tongue, causing her to gag and saliva to drip out of the corner of her mouth in reaction to it.

But she held tight with her teeth, and pulled as hard as she could until miraculously the knot loosened just enough for her to pull her hands free. She saw the guard shout in alarm, as if realizing that she was escaping and he dropped the torch to the ground. Her feet set off at a pace she hadn't been aware she could muster; the pain and soreness of her body shoved to the background. Only a need to survive remained and chased her up the scaffolding, and her feet touched down on the flat of the ramparts when the world exploded around her.


ONE MORE CHAPTER UNTIL LIVVY HEADS TO FLORENCE! What AC assassin (not Ezio, Giovanni or Federico) would you guys like to see in the next chapter? Vote now! REVIEW ALWAYS FUEL MY WRITING DON:T BE SHY! lol

Author Note: This story will be upped to Rated M because of the context of the next chapter leaves me worried, so I just wanted to let you guys know.

Refernces:

1.) Olive Branch-it means a truce or alliance. Dates back to the Greek City of Athens, where Athena gifted them with olive trees. Also on American currencies, the eagle holding an Olive branch to symbolize united country that stands for peace and freedom.

Italian:

Bastardo-I think the translation is pretty self explanation, no?

Il Dottore- the Doctor

Bene- good?

RRS are appreciated.