Disclaimer: I own nothing from Assassins Creed, not the games, movies, or books. Nothing! No Ezio. No Altair. I own nothing. This is purely for amusement, nothing else! I just write to better myself as a writer, and learn and develop my style. And for the readers enjoyment, after all.

Summary: Will you live or will you die? That is the question that Olivia Steel faces as her life is on a collision course with danger and a reunion with the man, Ezio Auditore—the man she loved and left behind three years ago. With more secrets than she can carry, will Olivia be able to change the tide in the never ending battle of Assassins versus Templars? Or will she be the one to seal their fates?

Pairings: Olivia(OC)/Ezio, sort of established romance

Author's Note: This is a sequel to "Life, Death and a Choice". You don't necessarily need to read that to enjoy this story, but if you don't want to feel lost at times, I suggest going to read that before this one. (*Also note that Life, Death, and a Choice is currently be edited! Chapter 12 and up have yet to be edited and updated!) This story will definitely have a different tone than the last one, but will not feel too separate from it I hope. Anyways, I hope that you all enjoy it and come to love it.

Assassins Creed Renaissance: This books helped me a lot with Ezio's point of view as well as the game, so I wanted to throw in a disclaimer here. It's not word for word what's in the book, but some parts may seem familiar.

I want to thank DannyPhantom619, Jadestone112, LaPersphone, LovelyThorn, Randomfox77, Shadow Operative, Sheity Williams, Sketchninja7, The Chaos of the Stars, c8499145, justme2134, Antyto-sama, Tyvot, unconditionally-infinite, dovakinrules, Shy911, Cho Tamazaki, ohnodddd, DarkDust27, Jade Celandine, girl falcona, Ashalenn, Yuuki Tsukiyomi, Dragon'sMaw, North Moonlight, Gen0cideRun, RachluvsMerlin, mute-by-choice, Pr1me Gurl, TwilightMelodic, swishyla, Bellamy49, acliecasket, Wickara, WinterChild7, Snow-Nightshade, Valshaena, Nefertare, DeLacus, mucasara, kimmay94, Savage Kill, InsightfulDaemon, M0rgan Lef4y, Dragockon, evilninjadog, Yellow Eggplant, AMacca16, AngelElmarlienHenning, Offtimeotaku, The Angel's Devil, Ryoko K, RomainieSweetheart, Shaka-laka-BOOM-girl, AndrianaWarrior7, mcilwainsamantha, lunerbunny, Monkey D. Umi, nights angels 96, for all the favs. :D

I want to thank Azminara, Delphine Pryde, Fredegar, Jadestone112, LaPersephone, Randomfox77, Sheity Williams, Shketchninja7, Special Agent Author, The Chaos of the Stars, ThisIsHope, c8499145, justme2134, Antyto-sama, Lilith67, ShioriOokami, Tyvot, unconditionally-infinite, Kementari689, relena soulheart, Shy911, Assassinwonderer, DannyPhantom619, DarkDust27, Yuuki Tsukiyomi, Dragon'sMaw, North Moonlight, Dance FLY, Gen0cideRun, DayDreaminGirl, Adamantia13, RachluvsMerlin, mute-by-choice, Kira-Katashi, Pr1me Gurl, ArtemisFullmoon, TwilightMelodic, ToaKage, masterdude94, swishyla, Bellamy49, alicecasket, salinagriego, Wickara, WinterChild7, HimeGee17, Frodos Magic Ring, Snow-Nightshade, Valshaena, Nefertare, DeLacus, whitewolf7410, InsightfulDaemon, Smiling cat from down under, M0rgan Lef4y, Dragockon, PondRiverWilliams, KillerKhaos, evilninjadog, CalebIsACactus, AMacca16, AngelElmarlienHenning, Xiumin825, Offtimeotaku, RomaineSweetheart, Shaka-laka-BOOM-girl, mcilwainsamantha, lunderbunny, Monkey D. Umi, nights angels 96 for the follows! :D

I want to thank Shy 911, DannyPhantom619, Guest, WinterChild7, Guest 2, Player One, DeLacus, Sarah, Guest 3, Savage Kill, Yellow Eggplant for the reviews!

Guest Reviews:

Guest 1: Thank you so much. I do try to have a good plot planned out, and have been hammering out the fine details with the editing and the sequel. :D

Guest 2: Thank you! Some mistakes do slip past me, I will edit the older chapters when I get the chance to review them and everything. It's been busy. That's okay, I'm flattered that you take the time to read this one. :D

Player One: It's a secret! ;)

Sarah: Yay! Thanks! I'm working on more chapters, it's been so going!

Guest 3: Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad that you've enjoyed Ezio so much in my story to make the game more enjoyable in some small way. Ezio is one of the reason that I love the AC series so much. I'm so happy that you've enjoyed my Made of Stone, too. I hope the future chapters prove to be just as enjoyable as the ones you've read so far. :D

I want to thank "Wondrous World-Hopping" for adding my story to their communities.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I HOPE 2019 BRINGS EVERYONE MUCH JOY AND HAPPINESS! :D

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am still editing Life, Death and a Choice. I have chapters 12 and added a never seen before bonus chapter. Chapter 13 will have to be edited and updated, so any inconsistency will hammered up by the time the whole of LDaaC is edited and will flow with The Lie of Purgatory!

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Naples is not all that far away from Venice, about an 8 hour drive in modern times. However in this time period to go there by boat would have been a lengthy journey. It required sailing around the boot shaped peninsula of Italy and then up the channel across the Ionian Sea and the Adriatic Sea. To say this would be a week's travel is very optimistic, especially in the 1400s hundreds. I've tried to estimate how long the travel would actually be, but no such site has really helped me out so I'm going with a two week travel if weather conditions permit it.

Songs that Inspired this Chapter:

Olivia's Main Theme Song: "Rise" by State of Mine

"Breaking Inside" by Shinedown

"Paint It Black" by Hidden Citizens

Chapter Four

"Of We Broken Few"

"I see your red door, I want it painted black,

No colors any more, I want them to turn black."

"Paint it Black", Hidden Citizens

12th February 2011

Monteriggioni, Italy

Auditore Villa

Leo was having a bit of a meltdown, lying back in the animus while Rebecca finished up the last minute specs on his DNA analysis. He had a terrible tick when it came to his anxiety, and that was rambling. No, not just normal rambling. He rambled, the words spilling out of his mouth only seemed to increase and feed his anxiety, sending down a black hole of despair. He wasn't sure what he started to ramble about, it could have been something as innocuous as the weather but it didn't stay about the weather. "What if I catch a disease? Can you catch a disease through the animus? Measles? Plagues? Racism?" He added, as an afterthought.

Rebecca snorted.

"Hey, you laugh, but racism legit works like a disease." Leo jabbed a finger in her direction. "It's like a plague of ignorance that destroys all common sense."

"You aren't going to catch racism," the techie told him, patting his hand consolingly.

Leo pouted, at the patronizing way she spoke to him but settled back into the chair. "Good. Good. I like not being an asshole. I mean, I can be a pain in the ass, but—" he choked, when Shawn passed by an unceremoniously shoved a piece of toast from his plate into Leo's mouth. Pulling the buttered toast free from his teeth causing a tidal wave of crumbs to fall down across his chin, he scowled at the historian. "Hey!"

"You'll be fine," Shawn told him, in his usual dry tone. "Stop being such a baby."

"I am not—" Leo clamped his mouth shut, because he was not about to get into a "are too/are not" argument with the man. Instead, he ate the piece of toast with zeal as a small way to get back at Shawn for being his normal prickly self. He muttered unflattering things underneath his breath, while wiping crumbs off with his sleeve when William Miles walked into the room. He went still and wide eyed at the man's unexpected appearance, and only a split second later Desmond tumbled in after.

Desmond had clearly seen better days. He was sweaty, his clothes rumbled from training and there was a bruise on his upper cheek. He looked ready to keel over and pass out, and Leo didn't know how he was managing to still stand. Damn. William wasn't kidding about seriously training him, now was he? Leo thought, internally wincing in sympathy for the younger man. Though despite his bedraggled appearance, there was something…lighter in Desmond's eyes. Like a weight of some sort had been lifted.

"Pardon for the intrusion, I just wanted to stop by and let you know that the Council has approved of your excursion," William informed them, with a half-smile. "You won't get free reign to just run about, so you will have a Council approved assassin going with you, but the fact they are even letting you go after the painting at all is more than I thought we would get. A private jet has been set to embark in two days' time, so you all need to figure out who is going on the trip and who will stay behind."

"I'm definitely going," Desmond said, immediately.

"Uh, I'll opt out," Leo added, with a half grin. "I'm not an assassin, nor do I possess one ounce of badassery so me going into a potential Templar stronghold is just asking for bad things to happen."

"If Leo's staying, then I'll stay, too," Rebecca commented, rolling back in her computer chair to face William. "The sooner we get proof of his story, the sooner we can hand it over to the Council and avoid a potential migraine of epic proportions."

"I'll stay here with Rebecca and help monitor Leo's progress," Lucy responded, arms folded over her chest. "Shawn, do you think you can get along with Desmond long enough to work with him? You are the historian here, and if anyone can tell that paintings authenticity out of all of us, it would be you."

"We haven't killed each other, despite the number of close calls," Shawn drawled out, with a sarcastic huff. He glanced over at Desmond, and gave a mild roll of his eyes. "I suppose I can put up with Desmond long enough to get there and get back in one piece."

"Hey, I am a delight!" Desmond said, defensively.

"I'm sorry what was that you said? I was in the middle of not caring."

"I can see this will go swimmingly well," William sighed, heavily. "Just make sure to take the mission seriously, and to work with the assigned assassin appropriately. That means no jumping the gun and no running in half-cocked, either. We are already looking into blue prints and security details on the castle. You will receive those when you all arrive in London and meet with our contact there. Until then, you are free from training Desmond. It won't do to have you exhausted before your official first mission."

"Normally," Desmond grunted, limping slightly, "I would take offense to that backhanded jab, but I'm too sore and sweaty and exhausted to care. I'm going to take a shower and then fall face first into some pillows and nothing short of the apocalypse better wake me up."

"Not even for food?" Rebecca grinned.

"Not even for food," Desmond said, with a shudder. "I can't think about food. Not after my dad decided to ram his knee right into my gut. Just no, no, thank you."

"I'm not your father when training, Desmond," William chided, with a mild tone. "I have to be an impartial teacher, and that means training you to fight against people who will be far more brutal than I."

"Fair point," Desmond conceded, after a moment.

"I'm going to go make sure everything with the jet is in order," William stated, with a dip of his head. "If you all need me, I will be up in my office."

Leo watched the man leave the room, in silence and when the door closed behind the Master Assassin, his head jerked towards Desmond. "So you two kicking each-others' asses soothe old wounds, or what?" He asked, being incredibly nosy. His curious held the power of ten cats because he liked knowing things, and despised being out of the loop.

"Nah, there is still…lingering issues between my dad and I," Desmond replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. His brows were knotted together and eyes narrowed speculatively. "I guess, it makes it easier to see things now. This version of my dad—the person he is now, he isn't cold and closed off. Not like the dictator I feared growing up before all these changes in the timeline. He's still stern and serious, but there's…something more human to him. More like the father I always wanted, but never could quite reach before. I don't know, maybe that sounds a bit too cheesy."

"Nah. It doesn't," Leo said, with a genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle. "I know what it is like to constantly seek a father's approval. I never quite measured up in my dad's own eyes, but if there was a better way I could have understood him and his thoughts—even if it didn't make things magically better, I think it might have been nice to have had that chance. I'm glad that you do."

"Breathe deep," Rebecca warned Leo. Her hand steady on his arm, and the IV needle poised in-between her fingers.

"Ugh, I hate needles," Leo mumbled, turning slightly green. He turned his head away from her, and his throat bobbed harshly. Drawing in a deep breath, he fought to keep relaxed while she pushed the tiny piece of metal into his arm. It was less painful than a bee string, and hurt for all of a second but still sent a shudder down his spine. "Okay…okay, now that's over," he said, voice high pitched and his eyes studiously not looking at his arm, "when do we put me in the animus?"

"Just sit back and relax. Closing your eyes helps," Rebecca smiled, rolling away in her chair towards the computer desk. "We'll have you inside the animus in just a few minutes. We picked an ancestor of yours in the heart of the American Revolution, which is a notable footnote in Assassin and Templar history."

Leo released a shaky breath, and closed his eyes. He relaxed against the chair which wasn't horribly uncomfortable, and part of him wonder if being inside of the animus was a bit like dreaming. He would be laying down like he was asleep, but his mind would being going on like fireworks trying to absorb the information being thrown at him.

"If we can find any discrepancies about Connor Kenway, or Haytham Kenway, that might just be enough evidence to get the Council off of our backs temporarily," Shawn said, his tone strangely quiet. "They'll want more than just that. They'll want to see how far the differences go, but it should be enough to convince them not to bring hellfire down on our heads."

"They are that scary?" Desmond questioned.

"Yes," Lucy responded, warily. "The Council is the backbone of the Brotherhood, Desmond. They have to be the hammer of justice and the hand of mercy, keeping the secret of the Assassins' existence while planning against threats from outside and…" Her voice wavered for all of a second, but Leo twitched at the slight hesitation. "And threats from the inside," she continued, after she cleared her throat lightly. "It's a difficult balance, and there are a lot of rules and laws that are meant to preserve and protect the Brotherhood. Allowing Leo to stay among other things has broken several of the cardinal rules. They could very well disband us, and hand over our research and your animus journeys to other people."

"That's not going to happen," Desmond said, flatly.

"Let's hope not," Shawn huffed. "Alright, Leo. Everything is set up. You'll be going in three…two…one…"

Leo heard a slight buzz in his ear, and there was a whirl from the machine beneath him while a little pulse of electricity from the headrest behind him stimulated something deep within his brain. It was similar to falling asleep, but there was an edge of anxiety that came with it. It wasn't his body's natural path to slumber, which set off a bunch of alarm bells and natural instinct to pry his eyes open. The sedative in the IV however, curb that impulse just enough for him to slide into the memories of ancestor James Morrison and the rest of the world around melted away into the muddy unpaved streets of Boston in 1772.

The Kingdom of Naples, Italy

6th August 1482

Staring out at the sea, Olivia Steel had a forlorn air that surrounded her.

She felt lost, and forgotten, the long the days ticked by. The cavity of pain within her grew until it could rival the deepest of canyons, but she somehow managed to keep her head, facing each sunrise with hope clutched tightly in her grasp. She drew in a deep breath, savoring the salty sea breeze and watched the waves crest against the sandy shores. Olivia had done as the King of Naples suggested, and had kept to the shadows. The massive inflow of people into the port city hadn't made it difficult to keep herself out of sight and beneath notice. If there was a single regret was to be had, it was leaving Enrico and his family who had been so good to her behind. The memory of sadness in Juliet's face when she had to do so cut her to her core.

But that did not mean that she was without care. Her fingers brushed the fabric around her waist—too fine and soft to be made by human hands. Outwardly the Shroud did not appear like anything other than a normal cloth, but she felt the thrum of power that sang sweetly off of it like a siren's song. Does anyone else hear it, I wonder? She thought, with a minute frown on her features. She feared the Piece of Eden would be stolen, that she wouldn't be able to protect it. With a heavy heart, Olivia turned away from the sea and promised only to greet it again when she was aboard a ship sailing back to the places she knew. Blinking against the sun, she made out a silhouette of a woman rushing towards her at an alarming speed.

Her wrist tensed, the hidden blade at the ready until the blurry figure came closer into view and Olivia saw that it was Isabella—Ferdinand's lover and occasional messenger—that approached her. She was too young—only turned nineteen years old a few months ago, and had been a courtesan going on four years now, much to Olivia's horror. The King of Naples had taken a shine to the young woman about two years ago, saving her from toiling away at the bordello. Still Olivia couldn't imagine being only fifteen years old and having to sell your body to make coin, it was heartbreaking to her.

Isabella's story reminded her of Ciana, though the pair shared little to nothing in common in looks or personality. Only the desperate dream that they did not have to spend the rest of their lives used for other's pleasure. That one day that they could stand on their own and free from whatever chains or burdens were placed upon them, so perhaps that's why Olivia took a shine to the young girl and felt determined to take her underneath her wing.

By the time Isabella reached her, she was swaying on her feet and inconsolable with tears. The younger woman threw herself into Olivia's arm and sobbed into her neck.

"Isabella?" Olivia asked, worriedly. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"

"It's terrible, milady!" Isabella answered, after a couple of sniffles. "Ferdinand sent your letters as requested, when he learned of something horrible. He has reason to believe that there is a traitor amongst his ranks and confidants. He believes they may have passed information about you off to the Borgia family."

Dread sank like a cold stone in Olivia's stomach. "What do you mean?"

"A conspiracy, milady," Isabella wept, using the handkerchief that Olivia pulled out of her pocket to wipe away her tears. "A horrible conspiracy conjured up over the last few days' passing. That is why Cesare Borgia and his vessel have not left Naples. They are searching for you, the Red Hood. We fear greatly for your safety. Ferdinand wants to offer you a ship to get you safely out of harbor, but…"

"But?" Olivia said, her grey eyes focused on the courtesan.

"But it isn't going to Venice," Isabella replied, regret shining bright in her eyes. "It makes way for Spain. He knows that you wish to return to your loved ones immediately, but he fears that we cannot wait for a vessel to do so."

Livvy felt the hope in her hands crumble into dust. Her shoulders hunched forward, and she fought to keep her expression absolutely subdued and neutral upon hearing this news. It was like every step forward, only landed her another two backwards. A scream bubbled up in her throat, making her wish that she could just scream out all her frustrations and everything would be magically fixed once the silence settled in afterwards. It was a childish and unhelpful impulse, but damn if a good scream wouldn't make her feel good right about now. "Alright," she breathed out, her voice strangled by her emotions. "Alright. I'll do it."

Isabella nodded her head. "Good," she said, a bit woodenly. "I'll give you a time and place to meet our contact who will offer you safe passage."

The courtesan walked away, still very teary eyed while Olivia sank down on to the beach, feeling utterly numb. Stubbornly, she rest there on her knees and buried her face into the palms of her hands. "Please just wait for me. I know you don't know if you even know I'm alive yet, but please wait for me," she prayed, feeling scalding knees slid across her face. She choked down the pitiful whine wedged in the back of her throat. After four deep breaths, she scrubbed her face clear of tears and pushed herself to her feet.

She couldn't stand being still a moment longer, drowning in self-pity and grief.

Olivia took to the rooftops of Naples, feeling the wind as she raced across them. Out running her emotions, out running her problems, out running anything that was not freedom.

Venice, Italy

7th August 1482

The Thieves' Guild tackled the task of reorganizing and refitting. It was a difficult process that would take a few months before it was strong enough to even think of infiltrating the Palazzo Seta. The reputations of the Guild had to be built up from the ashes, from where the city guards underneath the machinations of the Templars had reduced their ranks and their success. Ezio spent his nights, helping the Guild steal gold from a good number of Emilio's backers and terrorizing the military fort by stealing their supplies and revenues. Not a single thief had been caught making them illusive as ghosts, and so the rumors began to float across the streets. Rumors were a most powerful weapon for those that live in the shadows, and Ezio had learned a lot of how to utilize them from one the best, the Red Hood.

Olivia had used rumors to build a mask, a deceitful reputation surrounding the Red Hood. Tales spoke of man who enjoyed his ale and the company of women, who was wily and clever and sinful that made the stories only grow over time like weeds. He imagined Olivia would have liked the Guild. She would have gotten along swimmingly with Rosa and Antonio would be charmed by her sharp tongue. She would have taken Venice by storm with a smile and a dagger behind her back, and he felt his heart ache while he entertained such notions. He knew that he clung to the ghosts of his past, seeped himself in the pain and anger that the memories brought him to drive him forward, but then there were moments like these.

Moments where he let the regrets settle like a weight on his chest, and allowed them to take residency in his mind, if only to think of how different things could have been if the people he loved were still here besides him. His nostril flared as he released a slow steady breath, rubbing the tension out of the back of his hand while staring down at the codex with thinly veiled frustration. He had been learning underneath Leonardo how to decode the pages himself, on the rare occasion that the inventor was not available. He reached up, rubbing his tired eyes and heaved a deep sigh.

"I take it that you work is going slow, hmm?" Antonio questioned, his long fingers picked up another mannequin and moved its place on the model of the Palazzo Seta. His free hand cupped his chin thoughtful as his eyes scanned and plotted out several strategies. Antonio might be a thief, but he had the mind of a military general. If life had been more fortunate to see him born to a wealthier family, he would not have been stuck at the bottom of the ladder in a slowly changing society.

Ezio snorted, lightly. "I fear that academics do not come as naturally to me as battle does," the Assassin admitted, with a fleeting grin. He rolled up the Codex page, and set it aside on the desk before he approached the Guild Master. "I suppose I should go visit Leonardo when he is not busy with the work he is doing for his patrons. What are you working on, Antonio?"

"When the Guild is secure and strong, we must work to cripple Emilio's grip on the city. He is one of many Templars that hold sway over the people and the guards. There are a number ways to strike against him, but I believe Emilio's warehouse should be where we strike first. It is not far from his palazzo." He tapped the model, indicating which building he spoke of and then he traced his finger up to the little blue wooden soldiers ranged around the perimeters of the warehouse. "These are Emilio's archers. They represent the greatest dangers, and that means it would be best to strike at night. We are comfortable fighting within the shadows, and what they cannot see—"

"They cannot hit." Ezio nodded. "Go on."

"And given that you are the only one capable of scaling such heights as of right now, it is you that will have to take them out, but quietly. We do not want to draw attention," Antonio said, contemplating the model with an intense gaze. "As you do so, our men, will move in from the alleyway and take their places. They'll take the uniforms from the dead guards, so please if you can avoid too much blood letting it would be appreciated."

Ezio chuckled. "Alright. I will do my best, but as you've said this is not a goal for the immediate future, so tell me what can I do right now to help aid the Guild?"

Antonio considered it for all of a moment, when his eyes lit up with an epiphany. "There is a man named, Galasso Rossi. He is a wealthy merchant who has all, but sold his soul to Emilio and the Templars. He makes it very difficult for us to funnel our goods through the market as needed," the Guild Master stated, with a quirk of his lips.

"Tell me where to find him and the deed will be done," Ezio promised, with a smirk. He was a bit eager to get out of this building, and do something that felt productive as opposed to giving himself a migraine trying to work out what new cipher that Altair used for his latest codex page.

"His shop is set just a ways down past the Venetian Arsenal," Antonio stated, with a light chuckle. "While he is a well-known merchant, he has cheated a number of good people, and does a few a guards on rotation at his shop to safeguard it. None so well equipped to trouble on such as yourself, but better to make yourself scarce. I do not care what you do with the man, whether it is simply to destroy his stocks beyond repair, or to claim his life, or some arrangement of two—just do it quickly and without grave injury to yourself. Wouldn't do well for anyone if the great Assassin was injured, no?"

Ezio snorted, lightly. "I'll be back before dawn."

The streets of Venice were still relatively new to him, so he spent some days scouting out new places and ways to get about. It would not due for him to get caught in a dead end with guards on his tail, after all. He was intimately familiar with the area around the Venetian Arsenal given that the Doge was a Templar, and had control over much of the politic clout of the city, therefore also having sway over the military. If worst came to worst, Ezio wanted to dismantle his enemies in the most swift and sufficient way possible, so the Thieves Guild slowly been learning the ins and outs of the military base. He made his way past it, silently moving along with a crowd of revelers who had one too many drinks. The guards did not bait an eye, too tired to care or too new to recognize the white hood as a possible threat.

It was easy to find Galasso's shop. It was the only merchant shop that had guards protecting it, and was in perfect condition where other shops seemed haggard from lack of use or abuse from those who wanted to control the market and put certain people out of business. It wasn't an overly elaborate shop by Venice standards, nor so extravagantly large that he'd have trouble finding his way through like a maze. Now he just had to decide what to do about the guards, and out of his peripheral vision, he saw a group of courtesan sashaying their way through the streets idly.

He paid them a fair amount of coin, and withdrew into the shadows. His eyes watched how they enticed the guards with whistle and coy looks, and ultimately the guards gave into temptation, following the women of the night to somewhere more private. The Assassin made his way quickly to the unguarded door, and picked the lock with finesse as if he had been doing so for all his life. Sometimes, he pondered with a wry and slightly sad smile, it did feel that being an Assassin had been all of his life.

He entered the shop, closing the door behind on a whisper. His eyes flashed a deeper golden, his heightened sense of sight scouring the room for anything that would flash in his vision. He inspected the inventory book, making note of several names and numbers that didn't quite match up right. It seemed there was some kind of scheme going on, and Ezio bet that Galasso was importing something for the Templars. He searched around, finding a few new throwing knives to nick for himself before he scaled the stairs and opened a few doors to find a shipment of weapons and black powder. His brows lifted upward towards his hairline, and his lips parted in mute surprise by the sheer number of the arsenal. Galasso must be helping supply the garrison off the books, Ezio thought, with a quiet oath spoken underneath his breath.

He couldn't leave this weapons be, and he wasn't sure if he had the time to spare to assemble a team to sneak them out to the Guild. His best option was to destroy them, and a glance at black powder, Ezio smirked. Unlocking the window, so he had a hasty escape because it would not due to get caught in the explosion. He reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a couple of tiny fireworks. They had been made by Leonardo who had been fascinated with the process, and the Assassin felt a wave of nostalgia overcome him, recalling the way that the Red Hood had lit up the party where Ezio had killed Uberto all those years ago. She promised him a distraction, and delivered on it in the most unexpected way. It had made one of the worst days of his life bearable, looking back at the childish and mischievous way that Olivia had handled the task of aiding him. Tying the wicks together and set the tiny fireworks on the edge of the barrel, Ezio straddled the edge of the window sill and reached for the nearby torch.

He heard the door creak open, and he glanced up to see Galasso entering the room. "Damn guards, leaving this place unprotected—" The merchant looked up, and gaped at the Assassin at the window. "You—what are you doing here?"

Ezio said nothing, tossing the torch into the nearest barrel and dropping out of the window in a graceful headfirst fall towards the waters below. The hiss of the fireworks and the bright sparks of color were followed by the abrupt explosion of the gunpowder a second afterwards, and he saw the side of the building blow apart just before his body slammed into surface of the water. His arms outstretch ahead of him to cut through it, and he swam as fast as his body would take him. Rocks and debris fell into the water all around him, but thankfully, nothing so big that he would have to worry for his safety.

He made it to the other side of the canal and climbed up onto the streets, with a self-satisfied grin on his face. It fell away after a moment when a strange sort of melancholy fell over him, like he had forgotten something very important and should hold his breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Gritting his teeth together, Ezio shook off the feeling as best as he could and made his way back towards the Thieves Guild. He deserved a good rest and to sleep in past the dawn, without Rosa marching into his room and dropping water all over him.

12th February 2011

Monteriggioni, Italy

Auditore Villa

Steaming hot water cascaded down from the top mount shower head, and Desmond released a long deep breath, trying to scrub away the ache that resided in his muscles. He had never been so thoroughly exhausted in his entire life, and he had thought the training couldn't have been that much harder than the routine he had established under Lucy and Shawn's watchful eyes. He mused over recent events, and how the world got all twisted up, in a never ending cycle of being turned upside down at the drop of a hat. He poured a generous amount of spicy orange, lime and basil body wash into the palm of his hand, lathering up until he was covered in suds and the scent of the cleanser soothed his nerves.

He lingered in the shower until the temperature in the water started to drop. After quickly finishing washing off, Desmond turned off the faucet and got out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, and he strode into his bedroom only to stumble in shock at Lucy sitting there on the edge of the bed. Her head turned in his direction, and she did a double take at his state of undress, her mouth falling open. A blush spread across her face and she stuttered out, "Wh-what are you doing in just a towel?"

"It's my room," Desmond defended, hotly. "I'm allowed to be naked or semi-naked in my room!"

Lucy blew out her cheeks, eyes darted away from him. "Well, well, that's…true," she admitted, reluctantly. "I should have knocked. I'm sorry, I just had something that I wanted to talk to you about—"

"And it can't wait until I'm dressed?" He asked, a teasing edge crept into his voice. He was pleased to see the blush on her cheeks deepen until she looked like she was imitating a tomato, and her eyes narrowed into slits when she realized what he was doing.

"You are—" Lucy cut off abruptly, and turned around. "Alright. I'm going to go sit in the living area to wait until you are dressed, but this…this is something I need to tell you."

Desmond felt his amusement dwindled down at the uncertainty on her face, the deep seated fear that radiated off of her and the way she glanced at him, then quickly away as if holding his gaze was unbearable. She walked out of the room and Desmond could feel all the old tension sidled right up back underneath his skin while he grabbed his clean clothes, hastily pulling them on. He walked out of the bedroom into the living area where Lucy sat on a couch, staring out aimlessly out in front of her. He would almost say that she was watching the television, if it weren't for the face it was turned off. "Lucy?" He said, cautiously tapping her on the shoulder.

Lucy jumped like she had been bit.

"Lucy," he whispered, a concerned frown on his lips, "what's wrong? What's going on? Is it about the mission, or the Assassin that will be coming in?"

"No, no," Lucy replied, shaking her head. "Please, just—just sit down."

"Okay…" He agreed slowly. He took a seat just off to the right of the couch, facing her and his dark eyes swept across her from head to toe. There was something like shame that was etched into a knot along her brow, and intense self-loathing that sat behind a glimmer of tears. The column of her throat slid up and down, a shaky swallow and her hands were clasped in her hands tightly. "Tell me what's going on."

For a moment, Lucy didn't say anything. Her mouth opened, but it was as if something had stolen her voice. A helpless look crossed over her features and it was swiftly followed by defeat, her shoulders slumped and she curled in on herself ever so slightly. "In the original timeline, before…before Olivia Steel showed up and changed things," Lucy responded, her voice raspy and strained. "I betrayed the Assassins, and I was working with Vidic…"

Desmond reeled back, the words hit him like a bolt of lightning. It traveled white-hot down his spine, while all his instincts screamed at him to remove the threat. It was an effort of sheer willpower to sit there, motionless and not give into his most base reaction to this unexpected betrayal. His heart was twisted in his chest, disbelief and shock that tore him up from the inside out. His expression didn't change, except for the sharpness of his gaze where he stared at the shaking blond unblinkingly.

There were several moments that he couldn't breathe. It was like his body had forgotten how to do so, and then slowly like molasses in the sun, all thoughts and animation returned him. His posture loosened, but was by no means relaxed. "Are you working for the Templars now?" He asked, his eyes stared at her hard. He didn't know how he hadn't seen it before because Lucy was terribly expressive and horrible at lying. He had played off the constant worry and dark circles as her just being under an enormous amount of stress, and she had been under pressure. But it had been stress due to a lie, not the constant work for the brotherhood. It seemed to be a decision she seemed to regret down to the depths of her soul.

"No! I swear I'm not!" Lucy replied, in earnest. The tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and her voice cracked with pain. Remorse and shame were etched into her features and she swallowed thickly, reaching up to wipe away the tears before they fell. "I'll go to your dad or anyone, if you want me to and tell them so they can verify the truth of my words, but I swear to you I'm not a Templar. Not in this life."

There was a long pause, where everything in the room seemed to still. It was like a vacuum created by the painful truth, and Desmond wasn't sure what to do. He could feel that something important hinged on what he did next again, and he ran a hand up across his short hair. He was undeniably hurt by this because Lucy had been the first person he started to trust after being kidnapped by Abstergo, and had become his lifeline that helped him through some tough times. It didn't help that he had developed feelings for her, deep and romantic feelings. The cords in his neck tightened and then relaxed on a sigh, his body slumping down into his seat and his hands resting on the armrests.

"Okay then," were the words that slipped out his mouth.

Her jaw went slack, her eyes rounded. "O-okay then?"

"Yeah, okay," Desmond nodded, slowly. He had a million different thoughts in his head, but a seed of resolve blossomed inside of him.

She blinked, a bewildered look fixated on her face. "Okay? Okay?" Her voice raised several octaves, and she threw her hands up in frustration. "How can you just sit there and say okay after what I just told you? Do you—you have any sense of self-preservation at all? I could be lying to you, telling you all this to lure you into a false sense of security!"

"You could be," Desmond acknowledged, "but you're not."

Lucy gave him a sharp look, her lips puckered together like they did when Shawn and Rebecca would start nagging each other incessantly. "How can you just accept that?" She demanded, her voice pitched low and her head shook side to side.

"Because you didn't betray us, not this time around," Desmond shrugged, his brows knitted together. There was a lot of differences to get used to in this new world that was shaping around them, and while her confession had been jarring, he couldn't hold her hostage over a different lifetime's sin. "You chose not to be a Templar this time, Lucy. I don't know how the choice lined up, or what all was different to make you make a different choice in the original timeline, but you did. That's what matters."

"But it did happen!" Lucy said, her voice shrill.

Desmond shifted, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. He made a steeple with his hands, and peered over it at her. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?" He asked, his voice neutral. A lot of people didn't give him enough credit. He wasn't just dumb runaway, he had to have smarts in order to survive all that he did even before Abstergo captured him, but his one flaw was that he tried to look for the best in people. He treated everyone as if they were worthy of trust until they proved him wrong, and if Lucy had been a Templar this time around, he would have felt the full force of that broken trust. His feelings for her ran very deep, probably deeper than she knew.

But she didn't betray them in this lifetime, and that meant she was still worthy of that trust. He was going out on a limb because if the roles had been reversed, he'd hoped that she would do the same for him.

"It does bother me! It should bother you, too!" The blond said, with a scathing tone. She was the picture of misery and fear, with her hands trembling in the air as she waved them nervously around. "How can you…just absolve me of that?"

He considered the question, carefully. Her admission had caused an initial sting, a slight flare of betrayal that melted away at the sheer self-loathing he saw in her eyes. As much of a brave face she put on, Lucy was tearing herself apart at the seams with what she had done in the previous timeline. "You could have chosen to keep quiet and just carried on your way. Who would have known, but you about your betrayal? I mean, the timeline changed and you aren't the person who you were in that one," Desmond spoke, choosing his words carefully. "You could have taken it to the grave and just accepted the second chance that Olivia Steel's meddling in the past presented. You didn't have to confess, you didn't have to come here, but you did because you can't take the easy way out. You want to be worthy of being here and being a part of this, but your guilt won't let you just go about things quietly. You want to earn back the trust you don't think you deserve, Lucy, and that's why I can say that I believe you."

More tears spill down her cheeks, and a sob tore through her.

"It may take a lot of time to reconcile the changes with yourself," Desmond continued, taking her hand into his and holding it tight. "It might take time to reconcile things with the others, when you tell them because I know you conscious won't let you do any less. But I think I know you, Lucy. I know how it feels to be cornered and trapped, with a million regrets and seemingly no way out—at least, with no good way out. This change in times, you know have that chance. So do what you have to, and make the best of it."

Lucy sniffled, wiping away the tears on her sleeve. Her shoulders trembled, her lips pursed tightly together as she fought for some kind of composure. Finally, a watery laugh bubbled up her throat and she looked at him with bright eyes. "When did you become so wise?" She inquired, gentle in her teasing.

"Ah," Desmond said, feeling heat rise up in his cheeks and span down his neck. "I have to relive the lives of bunch old, dead guys. I'm bound to pick up a thing or two, here and there."

Lucy laughed, lightly. Blotches of red were still dotted her cheeks and her eyes were swollen from where she had tried to keep her tears at bay, her smile slipped away and she looked down at her feet. "Desmond, thank you," said the blond, sincerely. "I know that…that there will be a lot to work through, but thank you for not dismissing me immediately or turn your back on me. I know that I don't deserve it and that you have no reason to give me this chance—"

"I have plenty of reason to take the risk on you, Lucy," Desmond interjected, gently.

Lucy flushed. "Still…thank you."

"You're welcome," Desmond smiled, warmly.

A knock came at the door before Shawn peeked his head inside. "Sorry to interrupt you love birds, but I thought you'd like to know that our Council appointed assassin just showed up. You might want to come and introduce yourself," the historian told the two, before he disappeared back the way he came with the door closed behind him.

Desmond ran a hand down the nape of his neck. "I'll go meet and greet, while you take a couple minutes for yourself," he offered, with a half-smile.

"Thanks." Lucy flashed him a grateful smile.

Desmond nodded, rising to his feet and patted her shoulder while he passed by. He left his bedroom suite and made his way towards the main hall that was rebuild to match the former Auditore Villa that had been destroyed in the siege by Cesare Borgia. He was halfway down the stairs when he stopped short at the sight of the man, standing leisurely and speaking to Shawn. He was a tall man, with a lean physique honed to be the perfect assassin from a young age. His reddish brown hair was cut short and a light beard had grown along his strong jaw. He turned towards Desmond, with sharp and intense blue eyes.

Desmond sighed. "Callum."

Callum Lynch smiled, humorlessly.

The Kingdom of Naples, Italy

10th August 1482

The foundation of Naples was built by Mt. Vesuvius in the Avellino Eruption, 2000 years before the tragedy of Pompeii, and twice as powerful as that natural disaster. This had covered the land in thick volcanic rock that held up the streets above, even as for thousand years people had carved out intricate pathways underneath that were hidden out of sight by the streets above. Greeks and Romans had used the chasm that spanned over three million square meters for a variety of reasons. Military, political, even the Emperor Nero used the pathways to magically appear on the stage of the great theatre to thrill his peasants. Those were some of the more benign uses of the pathways. A mudslide had made most of the underworld untouchable, still buried beneath it all. An entire city built upon a city with pathways underneath that. Naples always came back, disaster after disaster and refused to go quietly into the night.

Maybe that's why the Shroud brought Olivia Steel appeared here of all places. The resilient nature of the town and its people reflected something deep within her, she mused as she made her way down into the underbelly. The only passages that had been excavated were the ones used by Roman Emperors, that were documented, and a combined effort over time by the Assassins and Templars—not intentionally working together mind you—that breathed life into the old street ways. Though from what the locals had spoken, she may find more trouble than Templars in the depths. Whispers of spirits and demons that were said to haunt the old, lost city. She had enough ghosts haunting her already to be diving into underground tunnel rumored to be filled with them.

But desperation was an unkind motivator, Olivia concluded. She would rather be on a ship making way to Venice and ever close to reuniting with Ezio than to be skulking around these depths looking for this good willed informant that was supposed to take her to Spain. It was tempting to take a shot against fate and ignore the threat Cesare Borgia presented against herself, to hope the odds were on her side and roll the dice. Still common sense prevailed and while Olivia despaired knowing that it could be months before she could make a trip by land or sea to Italy. More time that she would lose and less moments she could share with those closest to her heart.

She passed through the tight tunnel, and carefully skirted around the edge of the cistern. The quarries done by the Greeks to build the old city, and the quarries had been renovated into cisterns by the Romans, creating of the ancient world's most advance achievements. The water poured and flowed, and the little beam of light that shined down from the well nearly seventy feet or more above, created pattern on the cavern walls that gently shimmered and swayed. Chewing on her lower lip, Olivia lifted the torch to light the path and carefully treaded along it.

"You only have yourself to blame, Olivia," she whispered to herself, walking down deeper into the depths of the maze. "If you had been strong enough to resist the stupid Shroud, you wouldn't be here at all. You would have never left and still be with Ezio."

The air was chill down in the deeps beneath Naples. It was a chill that had nothing to do with the air, nor with the icy cavern that reverberated in her soul, but the cold anticipation that shifted beneath her skin. She had an unnerved feeling, like a mouse twitching its nose at a block of cheese on the edge of a trap. The deeper she made her way into the earth, the more a suspicion unfurl in her heart. She didn't want to believe that the Isabella would betray her, that there was no good reason to doubt the woman.

Olivia could turn tail and flee, but if someone knew she was in Naples and was certain enough to set a trap, then they would certainly be certain enough to beat down some doors in order to search for her if their bait was not bitten. And that could get more than a few innocent people hurt along the way, such as Juliet. So Olivia forged forward through the hidden rat ways, with her heart thumping madly in her chest. Her eyes narrowed and in the distance she could see light in the distance. She was supposed to meet the informant here in these depths, but had a bad feeling in the pit of her gut. Her feet led her down a small passage almost too narrow for her to slip through, and when she stepped into the light, she found herself staring down a person that she had hoped never to come across.

Cesare Borgia gave a smile that was all teeth. "So you took the bait after all."

Olivia hand curled into a knuckle white grip on the torch and it was by sheer willpower that she did not draw her blade. Her grey eyes flickered towards the frightened Isabella. The monster had one hand twisted in her hair forcing her to bare her throat, and in the other held a wickedly sharp butcher blade ready to slice through the fragile flesh. "Isabella, are you alright?"

Isabella went to answer, but Cesare pressed the blade tighter to her flesh. She cried out, and drops of blood slid down across her dark skin. "Now, now, this conversation is between you and I, Red Hood," Cesare clucked his tongue, his tone and smile mocking. "Allow me to introduce myself—"

"Cesare Borgia," Olivia interrupted him, her tone quiet. Her face was an expressionless mask, but her heart hammered underneath her chest. An ice fear slid into her blood, and through her veins. Her grey eyes flickered to Isabella, whose face was wet with tears and her eyes filled with regret and fear, and her jaw clenched tightly. Her gaze turned back to Cesare who looked smug and arrogant, and a great deal younger than when he first appeared in Brotherhood. He almost looked boyish, charming, the guy that mother dreamed their daughters would bring home—a look that he would abandon with time, feeling no need to hide his vicious and dark side behind a saintly veil. However, she was not fooled by the façade. She knew what monster lay underneath. "I know who you are."

"Ah, good. Good. I am pleased my reputation has preceded me," Cesare smirked, gesturing for his guards to lower their weapons. He seemed to believe he had the upper hand, and damn him for being right though Olivia would not allow him to know that. "I have to admit that I was skeptically," he drew the blade of the dagger lazily over the courtesan's trembling throat, smearing the blood across the woman's skin, "when I heard that the Red Hood was a mere woman guising as a man."

"There is nothing mere about me," Olivia retorted, ice practically forming on her lips from how cold her tone was. "Why don't you let her go, and I will show you just what I am capable of."

"Interesting offer, but I shall pass for now," Cesare chuckled, darkly. His eyes glittered with malice and madness, seeming to thrive from the fear and uncertain that coated the air. He was like a smiling crocodile waiting patiently for his prey to make the wrong move before he lunged, devouring her with his sharp teeth.

"Afraid to fight fair?" Olivia taunted.

"The world is not fair, Red Hood," Cesare commented, with a dismissive air. "Why would I fight fair with a rogue notorious for stacking the odds?" With a sharp nod of his head, the Red Hood heard the telltale click of crossbows from behind her.

"You are quite a bastard, has anyone told you that?" The Red Hood commented, sourly. She tried not to let her terror bled into her voice, and thought she was doing a valiant effort. Her mind raced with different scenarios where she could get her and Isabella out of this alive. The success rate of the plans that could work weren't good, and there was a greater chance of death or worse at the end of this tunnel. But this had been coming for four years now, the past that would back to take a bite out of her and maybe she would have to finally face it.

Her only consolation was that Ezio or anyone else she loved was anywhere near the line of fire.

"By my father often enough," Cesare's dark eyes flashed with fury.

Oh, that's right. Cesare is illegitimate child, Olivia recalled, biting back an unhinged laugh in her panic. Fuck.

"You should be more careful with your words," Cesare hissed, a hard edge in his voice. "Someday someone may hold you accountable for them. Perhaps, that day should be today."

He pressed the blade deep, and sliced clean through Isabella's neck. Isabella's eyes went widened in shock, and the blood pouring down her neck like a fountain. She choked on her sobs and blood, shoved to the ground by Cesare who no longer had any use for her.

"No!" Olivia screamed, the torch clattering to the floor. A rush of sparks scattered across the ground, like fire ants scrambling away in desperation.

The sharp, mechanical clank of the bolt being released, and barely had the mind to sidestep out of the way. The bolt sliced across her skin, tearing through her right side. If she hadn't moved it would have pierced clean through her lung, and she'd likely have died from choking on her own blood. She threw herself backwards until her back hit the stone wall, not giving the guards another shot at her unless they came down from their vantage point. Her eyes looked to Isabella, the courtesan already dead with a pool of blood spreading out from underneath her.

Regret and guilt swirled through her heart with insidious intent. Tears of shock and anger burned hot in her eyes, and she raised her gaze to give Cesare Borgia the most deadly glare that she was capable of that promised he would die by her hand, but as the catacombs echoed with the racket of armor and footsteps, she knew that his death would have to wait for another day. Rest in peace, Isabella, she thought to herself before she slid through the tight passage.

She raced as fast as her legs would carry, mind racing if she had even a chance to escape. She would have to flee Naples on the first vessel she could find, but that would mean getting past the group of mercenaries that loitered near the entrance. Her eyes widened in shock, but she was spotted before she could back pedal. She was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way out.

That didn't mean she would go quietly. She fought tooth and claw, cutting down two of the mercenaries before one good blow sent her to her knees. The ones that followed left her beaten down and weak, driving all the fight out of her with a brutal and effective force. She anticipated a cruel end when arms lifted her body off the ground, and Cesare Borgia grasped her chin in a bruising grip. "Now don't get too carried away. I want her in good enough condition for the show I intend to put on," he commented, his dark eyes bore into hers which glittered in anger. "I intend to give your assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, a front row seat so don't lose that spirit just yet. I want him to see that fire being extinguished right in front of him as I break your body and spirit in every way imaginable, and he will be helpless to do anything about it."

When she thought she had no more fight, that threat alone renewed her struggles. She lunged forward, ramming her skull against Cesare's nose with an unforgiving force. She got a grim satisfaction out making him bleed, even if he exacted his revenge by jerking her around by the arm and a backhand to her face that rattled her teeth in her skull. She was dropped on the ground, and Cesare kicked her so hard that she was flung across the ground like a ragdoll. White hot tendrils shot up her side, she knew that the bastard had broken a rib and tasted blood on the back of her tongue.

The last thing she sat before her world went black was his glint of his boot just seconds before it met her face.

END OF CHAPTER!

You're welcome for the obligatory shower scene, btw. XD

Leo's Rabbles—This is actually based off me, a little bit. I rabble when I'm nervous and come up with the weirdest shit while doing so.

Fan Casting: Rebecca Herbst as Olivia Steel. Antonio Cupo as Ezio Auditore. Francisco Randez as Desmond Miles. Kristen Bell as Lucy Stillman. Danny Wallace as Shawn Hastings. If you have any suggestion for any of the other characters like Rebecca, or Leo, then let me know. :D

RRs are appreciated. :D