When Altair had fallen Aveline and Connor had only had a few seconds to react. The light faded away from the houses dingy and water stained walls, leaving long yellow after images in their wake like bright gold spiderwebs, and Altair had dropped to the floor as if he were a puppet and someone had cut his strings. When the three smaller children lowered their hands from their eyes to look over the scene around them, they realized they only had a moment to act. Aveline turned, grabbing Desmond around the middle and hoisted him up into her arms, and Connor spun on his heel to look behind them. There were already several uniformed men and women coming up the walkway, their breath hanging in clouds around their reddened and almost dusty looking faces, and he seized Aveline's arm and jerked her forwards. No words were necessary, she already understood, and just barely managing to pull Desmond's feet up away from the ground she darted into the house. The tall girl in the uniform was standing by the couch, her hands gripping her elbows and her eyes staring coolly down at the ground, and the man- large, his head shaved and his stature imposing- was kneeling down, one knee barely touching the beige carpet and one rough and calloused hand threaded roughly through the back of Altair's jacket.

Connor slowed for less than a second, just for a few steps, to hesitate and look down at their adoptive older brother who lay crumpled on the floor. His eyes were opened and glazed, not really seeing, and not understanding, his limbs were slack against the floor. It was haunting. He had never seen Altair look so defeated before.

His pause, however brief, was just enough for Aveline to overtake him, reversing their roles and pulling him further into the house, Desmond in tow. The man barely had time to bark a command at them, reaching back with no luck at grabbing one of them. The three of them bolted towards the bedroom, and once inside, Connor slammed the door, reaching up to click the lock shut. The three of them stood for a moment to breath, all staring at one another in shock. Then there was a loud bang against the door, to startle them back into reality.

Aveline gasped and ran over to the window, quickly fussing with it to get it open, while Connor began searching the room, taking stock of what was there. Desmond to his credit, had been as brave as any four year old child could be, and the dam had finally broken loose, spilling out in waves of sobs and broken screams. The window was stubborn and old, with white paint peeling away from the splintered and rotting wood, and it took much more manoeuvring to get open than Aveline had accounted for. Still while not as old, the young girl was just as if not more stubborn than any wall fixture. She managed to pry it loose and upwards where it lodged steadfast, and turned back to her brothers, wiping her hands on her jumper.

"Come on, we need to go," she spoke firmly, grabbing Desmond by the hand and looking at Connor. "Come on!"

"One second!" Connor pulled Altair's mattress up, reaching down and sliding his hand into the fitted sheet. "They haven't been here long enough to find everything, we should—" he gasped and pulled back, removing a black leatherbound notebook. Altair's journal. "There!"

Aveline frowned. "How did you know they hadn't been here long?"

Connor jogged over to her, as the banging on the door became louder and more insistent. "Isn't it obvious just by looking?" He asked confused, "besides, those other goons has just gotten here, otherwise they'd have already been in the house, can we go now please?"

Desmond reached up and grabbed hold of Connor's sleeve, and in the midst of sobbing cried out. "Altair! What about Altair!?"

Connor and Aveline looked up at each other, and frowned. Finally Connor looked down at Desmond and put a hand on his head. "We'll find someone. Get help. We'll save Altair, I promise."

"We will?" Desmond sniffed. "We'll get him back?"

"Of course, we will, we're a family and family always comes back for each other. But there are too many guys out there right now, and we need to get away so we can really save Altair and not get hurt. Altair wouldn't want us to get hurt, right?"

Desmond nodded, and rubbed his face, looking up. "Okay."

Connor glanced over at Aveline. "We'll save Altair. But first, we have to go."

Aveline nodded and grabbed the windowsill, and hauling herself up through the small opening. She swung her leg around and landed deftly on her feet, before reaching her hand back through the window. Connor grabbed Desmond around his middle, and hoisted him up, handing the fussing child up into Aveline's waiting arms. As he began to haul himself through the door finally buckled, giving way to five well dressed men who poured into the room like oil through an hourglass. Connor dropped somewhat less gracefully, and staggered to his feet, just as a hand snatched for where his legs had been moments ago. He grabbed Desmond up and Aveline took hold of his jacket, pulling him off to the back of the house, one word on their lips and one thought on their minds.

"Run!"

When the bus finally came to a grinding halt, they had driven so far and for so long that Ezio had to wonder if they were even in the same state anymore. He had also discovered that Leonardo had not been exaggerating when he had stated that he could fall asleep with any type of movement, and he had to envy a boy who could be drooling on his shoulder while in the middle of what was effectively a hostage situation. Still they had come to a stop now, and Ezio was leaning as far as he could to peer out the dirt caked window. They were in front of a large one story building, with large red iron gates, and thick wire visibly threaded through the window. The doors were large and imposing, and the metal they were made from showed through on the dents and scratches in dull black paint. It looked like some sort of prison.

The two goons at the front of the bus were already standing, so Ezio grabbed Leonardo's shoulder and shook him. "Hey! Wake up!"

"Where are we?" He sat up in an instant, gasping and wiping at his face, and Ezio jumped in his seat.

"Uh… I don't know," he muttered, looking up as both broad shouldered men made their way towards them.

"Time to go," Jackson said, with a jerk of his chin.

Ezio did not move, he tightened his grip on the hem of his sweater, and glared up at the two of them. "Where are we?"

The other man, with the name tag that read Hernandez, squinted at him through a pair of dark sunglasses. He exchanged a look and a nod with his partner, and reached down, roughly grabbing Ezio by the arms and forcefully lifting him out of the seat. Ezio gasped and kicked, as he was hauled into the aisle, and half pushed and carried towards the door.

"Put me down! You bastards, what do you want?!"

"Shut up," he dragged Ezio to the front of the bus, and as he turned towards the stairs, he managed to get a look behind him. The other man had Leonardo by the wrist and was tugging him along, with no care for how rough he was being. Leonardo was wincing but keeping pace for the sake of his shoulder socket all the same.

The man holding Ezio released him suddenly shoving him face first into the snow and gravel. He landed roughly, his hands scraping against the ice and mud and his lip striking hard against a jagged upturned stone. He lifted his face and looked down at the snow, and the droplets of bright red blood that now dripped from his busted lip. He pushed himself up, running his sleeve over his mouth as he got to his knees. Leonardo fell in beside him and leaned down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Ezio, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he looked up as the black doors of the building opened with a horrible noise hat belied many years of rust and lack of maintenance. A man, well dressed with long hair and a cane at his side, walked out into the snow and past the red iron gates towards both boys. He wasn't particularly tall, nor did he have an especially imposing stature, but there was something horribly intimidating behind his eyes. His calm and almost chipper demeanor in concert with the dark and cruel smile on his lips only served to give him an air of authority and an uncomfortable aura that made Ezio's skin crawl. He a black overcoat, and shoes so shiny and impeccably clean that it made Ezio wonder if this was the first time they had been worn outside; he briefly imagined the man removing the shoes and burning them, upon return to the indoors, only to replace them with a pair of identical and no doubt just as expensive shoes. He strode towards them, the cane only barely grazing the snow, clearly there for the aesthetic rather than any genuine support.

"He's a little much, isn't he?" Leonardo whispered from the side of his mouth.

This brought a small smile to Ezio's face, but it flickered away as quickly as it had come, as the man approached him and spoke. "Ezio Auditore!" He greeted him with his arms spread, like a relative expecting a hug from a family member they hadn't seen in years. The man's eyes flicked downwards and then back to Ezio, grinning and bearing his teeth. "And guest?"

Ezio glanced over at Leonardo and then back up at the man in front of him. He could feel the chill of melted snow seeping through his jeans and sinking into his skin, and his lip was still bleeding, dripping from his chin in rivets. Still he put on the best glare he could muster. "Who are you?"

The man was quiet for a moment and then knelt down, careful not to actually let his knee and perfectly pressed pants actually touch the ground. "My name is Cesare," he said reaching out with a gloved hand and smearing away some of the blood from Ezio's chin. "Do you not remember me?"

Ezio pulled his head back, scowling. "No," he ground out. "I don't."

Cesare shrugged and leaned back. "Probably for the best," he stood up, dusting his sleeves. "This doesn't bring me any joy, I want you to know. It was not my first idea to use children, but… well, we make use with what we have, hm?"

"Use? For what?"

"I need your help for something very important, Ezio." Cesare looked down at him and then nodded to the two men behind him. They took a step forwards, grabbing him around the arms and pulling him up out of the snow. "And of course, your friend is welcome to come too."

With those words, Cesare turned on his hee and walked back towards the door. The man standing behind Ezio gave him a decisive shove, forcing him to stumble forwards. Leonardo grabbed his arm and clung to him, and reluctantly the two of them followed inside.

The building was warm at least. The walls were made from cinder blocks, their cement sides painted a dingy yellow, although it almost looked green under the pale blue glow of the humming fluorescent lights. The floors were alternating tiles of blue and brown, with flecks of black and sparkling grey interspersed among them; every so often a black tile would appear in a dreadfully out of place spot and Ezio could have sworn the disruption of the floor patterns were bothering Leonardo more so than the kidnapping. They passed door after door, each looking in worse shape than the last. They dirty and covered with cheap peeling balsa wood, with what might have been numbers once painted on them, though now they were so faded they looked more like scribbles from a conspiracy theorist's journal. Finally they arrived at a set of six metal doors, like the ones they had come in from, and Cesare seemed to feel no need to stand on ceremony, simply flinging one open and proceeded inside.

The room beyond was a large room with glossy hardwood floors, and high walls leading to a ceiling lined metal rafters and insulation foam. The walls had been painted over with white paint, and one black symmetrical stripe running horizontally across its middle. There were outlines and indents in the wooden floors, indicating where there had once been bleachers and chairs had once been, and while the whole of the room felt like a middles school gymnasium, the very center was what drew the most attention. Laid out, neatly on the floor in rows and columns were thirty pieces of paper. They were covered in old cursive words, and scribbles and drawings and plenty of other things that Ezio could not make heads or tails of. Cesare came to a stop in front of it and then turned around.

"Do you know what these are?"

Ezio glanced up at him, then back to the papers, shaking his head. Cesare smiled and took this as an invitation to keep talking.

"These are the Assassins' Codex. Very ancient texts with very important secrets to tell," he took a step forward, removing his gloves slowly. "They had been passed down from generation to generation, each collecting and finding more. When gathered together like this they tell of a location of something very powerful and very important."

Suddenly Ezio felt the edge of Cesare's cane under his chin, pushing his head up to look at him.

"Now, listen very carefully, boy. I need you to be smart and tell me where it says it is."

"What?" Ezio took a step back to remove himself. "Where what is? I can't read these—"

He heard the crack before he felt it, but the sting of the cane smacking hard against his chest caught up with him quickly, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him doubled over, gagging. "See, that is not a smart answer," Cesare chided almost softly. "Do not play dumb with me!" The cane struck him again, this time across the back and knocking him to the floor. He heard Leonardo cry out, but he could barely think, so he just lay dazed on the floor.

Ezio didn't have any time to get his bearings before cold fingers closed around his hair, jerking him up off the floor. He screamed out, clawing at the hand as Cesare dragged him to his feet and directed his head towards the codex.

"Tell me what it says!" He snarled, his calm facade almost entirely gone. "Your parents refused to tell me, your brother refused to tell me, and if you refuse to tell me-" there was a the sound of metal sliding against wood and then Ezio felt the cold press of steel against his throat. "Well I'll suppose I'll have to move down the line, won't I?"

Ezio froze. The pain forgotten, all he could do was stare straight ahead, his heart hammering in his ears. "... what did you do to my family?"

Cesare paused, and then carefully moved the blade just enough to press it uncomfortably closer to Ezio's throat. "What I had to. They were fools, and they paid the price for it, but now, the real question is… are you a fool, Ezio?"

A numbness washed over him like a wave, and he felt as though all the blood and warmth had fled his body. Something deep inside him bubbled up through the pins and needles and Ezio squeezed his eyes closed fighting through the tears that were starting to prick at the corner of his eyes. He wasn't surprised, in his head he wondered if he had already known. All that time searching he had wondered. After hearing about his brothers he had known his family would never be the same, but Claudia was alive and she was safe. So Ezio had been able to hold on to some level of denial about his parents. And now it was real. Now it was true. Now there was no more denial. Only numbness and a sharp stabbing pain behind his eyes remained.

"Ezio, tell me what it says."

In a moment he made a decision. He opened his eyes to look down at the papers, blinking away the last tears that spilled over. He fought down the pain, pushed back the numbness and thought of Claudia. He wasn't dying here today. He was going to get out of this, he was going to save his sister and he was going to make this bastard pay for what he had done to his family. But he couldn't do any of that if he was dead. He looked at the papers, scanning each one and staring harder at each in succession, until the colors and lines started to bleed together. But no matter how hard or how long he looked, it made no sense.

"Well?"

Ezio swallowed hard, biting his lip. "I… I don't know, it doesn't make any sense."

Cesare sighed, and removed the blade from Ezio's throat. Before Ezio could turn around he felt something strike him hard in between the shoulder blades. He collapses to his hands and knees and felt the tip of the cane digging into the skin of his back. He cried out and tried to pull away, reaching forwards.

"It doesn't make sense! It's just scribbles and nonsense!"

"That is not what I want to hear!"

The cane released from his back and he could hear the noise of wood whipping through air, and as he braced himself to be struck again, Leonardo's voice cut through the room.

"They're in the wrong order!"

Everyone froze, and turned to look at him. The boy was standing his hands gripped to his jacket, his face red and puffy with tears and panic and his legs trembling wildly. Cesare lowered the cane, slowly. "What did you say?"

Leonardo sniffed and looked down at Ezio, before glancing back up at their captors. "The papers, I… I can't read them, but there's a pattern and it's… wrong. You have them arranged wrong."

Cesare touched the tip of his cane back to the floor and took a few strides over to the boy, leaning down. "And you're saying what? You can put them in the correct order?"

Leonardo gulped audibly but nodded. Cesare stood straighter, and then stepped to the side, motioning for Leonardo to go past him. The boy rushed forwards and dropped next to Ezio, grabbing his arm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," Ezio winces, rubbing his nose. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do."

"Good," Cesare circled, glaring. "Because we're watching."

Ezio frowned and looked over at Leonardo, who returned his worried frown with a natural grin. "Trust me."

Despite everything, that seemed like a very easy and simple thing to do. Ezio nodded. "Okay, I trust you."

Altair had lost track of time. It was dark outside now, though he had to wonder if it was even the same day that they had taken him. His arms and legs were sore and strained from behind fastened to the chair, and his throat was raw and tired. He had spent what felt like hours, struggling and screaming curses at the air until he was too exhausted to continue. So now he just sat in the dark, his breath hitching with what sobs were left in his body, trying desperately to convince himself that there was no truth to what Robert had said. He couldn't bear to think that his family was dead, the thought was eating him alive, and entertaining it was too painful. He had to be lying. He had to be.

He slumped up against the chair, and tilted his head back against the wood. "How long are they going to keep me in here?"

The question had been rhetorical, but had received an answer anyhow. No sooner had he spoken then he heard a click at the door. He looked over and watched as the brass handle turned and the door opened by inches, as if the person on the other side were trying to open it as quietly as humanly possible, though for the life of him he couldn't think why. The people holding him here had no reason to try and creep around, and he was sure that none of his family could have found him here so why? When a small slender hand wrapped around the door and pushed it open, Altair received his answer.

"What do you want?" He snapped, keeping no venom or hatred from his voice.

Maria flinched, as if Altair had physically struck her, and took a step inside, turning to carefully shut the door behind her. When she turned to look back at him, even in the dark of the office he could see that she looked awful. Her normally pristine appearance was sloppy and unkempt; her hair was pulled up into a bun, with loose ends dangling around her face and sticking up haphazardly around her head like a mad scientists halo. Her shirt was partially untucked and wrinkled, with buttons undone and her undershirt showing at her collar. The skirt she wore was askew and the tag was sticking up from the side, and her knee high socks had slid down and crumpled around her ankles.

And yet her face was the worst of it. Her eyes were dark and red, as if she had spent nearly as many hours crying as Altair had. Her lips were pale and chapped and she looked almost gaunt in the dim light that came from the street lamps outside. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the strap of her purse which she had strung across her shoulders and she took a few steps forwards.

"Altair, I—"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," he spat, leaning back. No matter how frazzled she looked he felt no pity. "I hope you're proud of yourself," he sneered. "You were an annoyance before, but now you're just downright evil."

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes looking down. "I didn't know what they were going to do to you."

"Oh did you not? Did they not fill you in on their 'murder and torture children' plan?"

"I didn't—" she began, but cut herself off. "Listen, those kids- your family- might still be alive. No one reported success with finding them."

Altair's pulse quickened and he looked up, sharply. They were alive! Or at least so she claimed. "How do I know you're telling the truth."

Maria fiddled with the strap on her purse. "Robert… he practically raised me. He taught me everything I know, he was always strong and kind and saw value in me when no one else did. The Templars, they…" she trailed off, sighing. "I know them, they're good people, they want to save the world! I wanted to be part of that."

Altair raised an eyebrow, leaning forwards. "Templars? Like… the knights Templar?"

Maria looked over at him. "You really don't know?"

He frowned, and shook his head. "I don't know anything, except that this is all connected to the symbol on my dad's journal."

Maria nodded. "The Assassins and the Templars, they—"

There was a soft knock at the door and they both turned sharply to look at it. Finally the door creaked open and a boy slipped through, shutting it tightly after him and turning to the two in the room. He wore the boarding school uniform and had short clean cut hair, and the way he carried himself was strikingly familiar. As he turned fully, Altair noticed why, one of his sleeves was turned up and pinned at the shoulder, covering the stump where his arm used to be. He had grown up, but Altair still recognized him.

"Malik?!"

Malik looked over at him and narrowed his eyes into a glare. He stalked over to stand next to Maria putting his arm on his hip. "Keep it down! Do you want to wake up the whole school?"

Altair stared on at them slack jawed. "I... I don't understand. What are you doing here? Why are you with her?"

Maria looked over at Malik, who smiled wide and stood a little taller and prouder. "Isn't it obvious? We're here to rescue you, you novice."