That's right, trolololol! I'm messin with teh pizzas of Eden! TRY AND STOP ME.

Over 3,200 views? Damn, folks. Thank you for the continued reviews, reads, faves, all that jazz :) I actually lost a favorite recently so, uh... I'm sorry? You can tell me if I suck ;_;

As soon as I get finished with this I'll write more family fics for the gang. It ain't over yet, so here, have some Haytham and Shay!

Cold steel met Haytham's wrists. He withheld a sneer as the Abstergo agent secured the handcuffs, opting to suggest, "These are hardly necessary."

The agent quelled under his glare, backing away. Their leading commander, a slim blonde, stood by the lake facing away from Haytham. "They are, seeing as you killed twelve of our people when you were with us last time." Narrowing her eyes, the commander prodded her underling. "Where is Cormac?"

A series of wet squelching alerted them. Dripping wet, Shay walked toward them. He wrung his bandana in his hands, wayward strands of dark hair stuck to his brow. "Here," he muttered. An expression of sad disappointment came over him as he met Haytham's gaze. He looked like a child would after losing an idol- close to pouting.

"I see you outmaneuvered Altair," said Haytham. "Exploiting one of his many weaknesses at that. I expected more from you."

Shay slowly wrung out his gloves. "I did overtake you at the plaza."

"Oh, it was a fluke." Haytham brushed a speck of dirt from his coat. "Bombs and guerrilla warfare."

The female commander unsuccessfully attempted to help Shay. He refused her aid, grumpily squeezing out his own jacket. Haytham half-expected him to shake himself like a mongrel next. "Not really," the woman pointed out, "He stunned you long enough for us to hack back into your chip."

Haytham frowned. "Exactly why these," he jangled his cuffs, "are unnecessary. Why, you could shock me with the chip again, couldn't you?"

"Miss Stillman!" A young agent came running, cellphone in hand. "Dr. Vidic called, he says Mr. Berg is coming late, he had to catch Cross in Florence."

The woman sighed heavily. "John! Not in front of Kenway," she gestured toward Haytham.

Haytham smiled regardless, leaning against the van beside him. "Never mind me. Either way you will not find Desmond."

"Overconfidence does not suit you, Grand Master," Shay said. Sufficiently wrung out, he fumbled his damp jacket back on. Throughout the spectacle, he retained a level of stateliness. "Altair will be easily found, as will Desmond."

A dark edge gleamed in Haytham's eyes, his chest swelled in paternal pride. "Not as long as he is with my son."

"You're talking to the wind again, Desmond." Connor tapped Desmond's shoulder.

Realizing he was facing a tree, Desmond spun around. "Damn it," he groused. "I thought Altair said the visions wouldn't be a problem anymore."

Across from them in the wintry clearing, Altair walked away, going toward a row of trees to relieve himself. The man had yet to even shift his hood. Somehow even asleep it stayed on; if catching Altair with his eyes closed for a minute was considered sleep. Sunlight gently cast a yellow hue on his white hood. Connor followed Desmond's glare and remarked casually, "He did say if you follow through our motions, you should synchronize your mind. So..." his mouth twitched in a small smile, "do you want to learn how to assassinate a target unseen?"

Desmond gave a befuddled look. "How..." He watched Connor's smile grow to a bobcat grin. "Ah."

Connor led the way, crouching along the bushes. Sneaking behind him, Desmond gradually felt where to place his movements best to remain unheard. The forest growth was stiff and prickly in late fall, with the promise of snow soon. Altair had just reached the tree line, oblivious. Desmond edged around a gnarled tree root, careful not to step on any branches. Like an owl, Altair smoothly swiveled his head to scan his surroundings before unzipping. Connor beckoned to Desmond, whispering, "He's suspicious, use your eagle vision to track him."

Desmond squinted, focusing. "Alright, he's red."

Halting, Connor glanced at Desmond. "He should be blue."

"No, red."

"Not yellow?"

"I said he's red."

Connor furrowed his brow. "Fine, that must be the bleeding effect. Go ahead alone, he doesn't check the trees well."

Nodding, Desmond disappeared into the forest and began climbing up to a tall branch. He felt an automatic sleight to his movements, as if he were remembering an old trick. Partly he was; he had trained at the farm for years, but never much to do with such technical things. He had built awareness, agility, strength, and speed, but not any specific techniques for assassination or subterfuge. Carefully, he went across the tree limbs toward Altair. With a pause Desmond stared down at him. What exactly was he supposed to do now? Just land on him? Then he saw it. The phantom of Connor jumping down, pouncing upon a redcoat with ease. Desmond reached up and pulled his hood on- ironic effect. Below him Altair had finished and was beginning to walk away. From the bushes Connor whistled.

Altair narrowed his eyes, chastising, "Connor, that is the oldest trick in the history of-"

Desmond landed on Altair's shoulders, plowing him into the ground. Pulling back Altair's hood, he declared, "Requiescat in Pace."

Beneath him, Desmond could feel Altair's muscles coiling. He was surprised already that his assault had been successful, though Altair did catch himself well enough on the ground. Unmoving, Altair gave a short chuckle, "You think that is funny?"

Connor rolled out of the bushes, laughing. Altair tried to throw Desmond over his shoulder. Barely holding on, Desmond stayed despite Altair's growl, "Let go!"

"No, it's safer here."

Wiping a tear from his eye, Connor sat up. "We need to get moving," he gasped, controlling his mirth.

Altair became deviously quiet again. "Just a moment, I have a joke for Desmond." Calmly, he fell backward on top of Desmond. As they struggled in the grass, he said, "I can be funny, I will make you laugh."

The air had left Desmond's lungs when Altair dropped to the ground, leaving him at a disadvantage. He hesitated, seeing Altair's face unobstructed. There, over his lips, showed a scar much like Desmond's. Desmond paused too long, and Altair overcame him. Sitting on Desmond's chest, Altair restrained his wrists above his head with one hand. One of few smiles Desmond had seen from him appeared unsettlingly. He prodded Desmond's side with his free hand.

"So what's the joke?" Desmond asked.

Altair dug his fingers into Desmond's ribs, smiling, "You."

"I'm not ticklish-augh!" A strangled laugh escaped Desmond. He kicked frantically in avail, managing to yelp, "CONNOR, GET HIM OFF!"

"Those three are merciless killers," said Berg. "Altair is not to be underestimated, Lucy."

Lucy Stillman nodded. "Yes sir."

Silently, with an air of utmost sophistication, Haytham entered his cell in front of them. A guard reached for his hat. Haytham tensed for an instant, swiftly slapping the man's wrist like a child's. Berg gave the man a sidelong look. Before he could attempt again, Lucy said, "I doubt the hat is going to do any damage."

Haytham clasped his hands behind his back and proceeded to sit on the low bed. The guard muttered something under his breath, leaving while he rubbed his hand.

Berg turned away from Haytham, reentering the steel and blue hallway of Abstergo's Florence headquarters. Shay stood by the window, staring out past the first rays of sun. Beckoning him closer, Berg began, "We may use the ace up our sleeve later... For now, we will not."

Shay set his jaw impatiently. "Why? We have limited time."

Beside them, a slim white and brown bird flew directly into the window, bouncing solidly off. Lucy twitched, Shay glanced toward it, while Berg remained still. "Because there is a chance they will move toward the other Pieces, Shay," he continued, "or contact other Assassins. If anything, being with his ancestors will accelerate Desmond's progress- prime him for the Animus, if you will."

Lucy eyed him. "At what cost?"

Placing a hand on the glass, Berg apathetically examined the spot of blood on the other side. "None significant. Continue to pursue him... Gently, gently cause him enough fear and anxiety, the healthiest amount of pain, to motivate him."

Shay exchanged gazes with Lucy. "What is the next step," he asked.

Berg pressed his thumb over the spot. The warmth radiated through the glass, causing the blood to make the slightest of movements downwards.

"Release Ezio Auditore."

Fuck yeah.

Hey, my computer has been weird and deleted this a bunch of times. Here you are. It was aggravating to re-fuckin-write this. Hurpadurpadurp.