(A/N: Eheh. This chapter was written after having a dream where I was Kylar. Actually this entire fan-fiction was based off that dream and I just decided to write it all down (although the descriptions are probably not as clear as the dream proved to be). If I had started the story here though, I'd probably be ducking tomatoes by the end of this chapter. *sweat drop* actually, there still might be a good chance I'm pretty much screwed for this. O_o Dun hurt meh!)

_ _ _

Ch. 3

Azoth hit the floor of the boat shop hard. The dizzying pain as his head connected with the warped bow of a row boat almost made him retch. He felt large icy hands grab him from behind again, clutching his hair and wrenching his head upwards. The young boy wanted to cry out, but only a feeble squeak made any indication that he could still feel any pain. A red haze blurred his eyesight and he just barely avoided the gnarled wood of the boat again as he was forced onto his hands and knees.

"Glad you finally came to your senses." An all too familiar voice jeered from behind him. "I'd hate for all this to go to waste." A domineering hand slid from Azoth's chest down the contours of his stomach and around to his hip. Azoth shivered at the contact. He didn't want this, but if he didn't go through with it he would most assuredly be killed himself.

A scream ripped from Azoth's throat as the searing pain penetrated him.

Kylar bolted upright in bed, wrapping his arms around his knees to bring himself back to reality. It had only been a dream to Kylar, but to Azoth it was more real than could ever be admitted. It was something better left behind, just like everything else, but the young wetboy knew now that he could never truly forget. Could never disregard the day his new life began. The same day he killed his first victim.

Through Azoth's eyes, Kylar remembered the guild tyrant Rat all too well. It was because of him that his best friend Jarl was no longer the Jarl he once knew; the entire reason why Doll Girl had to bear twisted scars for the rest of her life. He was the reason for the nightmares that plagued Kylar to this day.

"I'll never forget what you did to me." Kylar muttered insufferably. "I hope they make you suffer the same way in Hell."

He climbed out of bed, albeit a bit unstable, and drew back the curtains. Through the window on his second floor room, Kylar looked down upon the streets. People were out and about, looking in shop windows, talking animatedly about anything and everything. At times Kylar envied those people; envied their simple conflicts, carefree mannerisms, and their freedom to love.

Relationships are ropes. Love is a noose.

Durzo Blint had engraved that phrase into Kylar's brain until he all but breathed it.

Kylar sighed, remembering the dispute he had had with Ezio last night.

"But if you go through with this, you will be killed."

Maybe he shouldn't have told Ezio of his plan. Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut and just gone through with it. But there was something deep in Kylar's heart that made him need to confide in the man. Maybe he had silently hoped that Ezio would physically stop him from carrying out such a makeshift resolution.

He shook his head solemnly. It felt as if his heart would drop into his stomach.

"Relationships are ropes. Love is a noose." He recited, though he didn't know if he wanted to believe those words as strongly anymore.

One way or another, Kylar had to go through with this. He looked over the small assortment of weapons that he had brought along, laying each one gently out on the bed. The half sword was his favourite, but he knew it would surely be detected. Then there were the poisoned barbs and needles. Kylar had known Blint to use such methods, but the young wetboy couldn't risk being poisoned himself if things got a little heated. It was then his crystal-blue eyes fell upon a small vial, much like the one he had given Varese with the placebo. He picked it up to examine it. He hadn't remembered packing it. Tentatively, Kylar spun the tiny glass vial in his hand taking notice of the small amount of powder inside. He tipped it up and glanced underneath, finding a tiny label written in tiny almost-illegible script: Cantarella

So that's what it was. Kylar remembered Master Blint mentioning the poison during one of his many lessons. It was best known for putting the victim into a deep sleep; so deep that their heart rate would be completely undetectable. In other words: a false death.

"But it does not kill." Durzo Blint snatched the vial from Kylar's hand. "Remember that, boy. After the deader has ingested it, the effects will wear off after 4 hours. But that doesn't give you reason to neglect your duties. That's why I'd rather you not use Cantarella unless it is your last resort. It has a reputation of leading to nothing but trouble."

Another quick glance over his small assortment of artillery and it was clear what Kylar would need. The miniscule pin glinted menacingly in the early afternoon sun as he picked it up in the handkerchief it was kept in. It was no longer than half the length of Kylar's thumb and as thin as a pine needle; hardly a threat. However, being a wetboy, Kylar knew all the secrets, all the special quirks that made these seemingly harmless objects so deadly.

Poison.

Poison was always the answer in these situations. An assassin strove to do his job undetected. Combat weaponry was mainly only used if the kill had to be quick, or as Durzo Blint put it: The payments weren't worth wasting valuable materials.

Many other factors went into whether or not poison was a good component on a job, but Kylar didn't plan to think too much on the details. The Cantarella had surely been a gift from Blint and the needle could be tucked safely into his leather pouch until he needed it. That was all he needed to know.

_ _ _

Due to his frequent visitations to Varese's household, Kylar had become strategically acquainted with the building's layout. He had even figured out the times guards would switch duty and where the easiest entries were during their exchange. Kylar's best bet at the moment was a window on the first floor in the back. And it was no luck that, just as the wetboy had calculated the guards were switching over their shifts.

Quietly, Kylar snuck past the guards and climbed through the open window. It wasn't luck that the window was open either. Upon speaking with Varese, Kylar had learned that the man kept that particular window open until well pass sunset due to a westerly breeze he had become so fond of. He explained how it blew through the drawing room, creating a comfortable and alluring atmosphere for guests, as well as himself. However, Kylar's interest in such an idea was purely on the open window and how useful it would prove to his task.

Now that he was in the drawing room, Kylar made his way down a long hallway and towards the flight of stairs that he knew all too well. The interior of the home was easy enough to navigate. Most of the guards were positioned on the outside and there were no signs of servants. As hushed as a shadow, the young wetboy climbed the staircase until he got to the chamber awaiting him at the top. He tried the door, which opened easily, and slipped inside.

This was it. There was no turning back now. But even if that option were available, Kylar knew better than to take it. His duties as a wetboy forbade him to run; inhibited the notion of defeat to linger in his head. In this line of work, it was kill or be killed.

The snake struck. Kylar barely had time to get out of the way before the serpentine body lunged forward, mere centimeters from his face. As the creature moved to strike again, Durzo Blint grabbed it just behind the head, his face unmoving.

"Do you know what this is, Kylar?"

"It's a white asp." Kylar replied a bit shaken.

"No," Blint corrected him. "It's the price of failure."

Durzo Blint had used the white asp as a deadly reminder of what would happen if Kylar ever failed to do what was needed on a job. The young wetboy had learned to never take anything the elder man said with a grain of salt. The man was a feared assassin and meant every word that passed through his lips. Each harsh word he spoke hung in the air frozen in time, echoing off the people who were lucky enough to hear them. No. Kylar knew better than to hesitate. Killing wasn't just an action, it had become a reflex.

Silently, the young wetboy sat on the floor at the foot of the four poster bed. It was a good position, seeing as how he could face the door. It was perfect because at the first sign of entry, Kylar could slip under the bed undetected. However, he would only hide if it were anyone but Varese. He wanted Varese to see him and in fact, knew all too well that the man would be delighted at such a surprise. Carefully, Kylar protruded the tiny vial of Cantarella from his leather pouch and popped the cork. He only needed the smallest amount. Proceeding to tap the fine powder into the palm of his hand, Kylar licked his index finger and dipped it in the powder. Once coated in the toxin, the wetboy cleverly ran his coated finger just below his bottom lip. Varese would never suspect.

Just then, as one speaks of the devil, the handle on the door turned and Varese stepped inside. He held a candle, which flickered violently as he set it on the vanity-table and he seemed harried for some reason or other. Kylar stood, purposefully making some noise to gain the man's attention. The sun cast hints of light through the high perched window; it was just enough for Varese to realize who it was.

"William." His otherwise strong voice broke like that of a young boy hitting puberty. "What are you doing here?"

William smiled and took a few modest steps forward. "I thought I'd come see how you were." He lied. "You seem so much better today."

Varese chuckled softly. Kylar could see the man's body relax just the slightest. "I'm sure it's merely the light or lack thereof, but thank you."

Kylar nodded.

"But," the tiniest hint of urgency laced Varese's voice. "As much as I enjoy your company, William, you've caught me at a bad time. I'm leaving on urgent business and won't be back for at least a month. You understand."

The excuse was more than enough for the wetboy to play along. "That's why I came." He walked forward until he was no more than a few inches from his target. "I wanted to surprise you before you left. Your guards said you wouldn't mind." And just to spice up his little excuse, Kylar put on his most innocent, but apprehensive smile. He had seen women give men the same face and send them panting after them like wild dogs; maybe it would work for him.

It didn't come as much of a surprise when it did indeed prove effective.

Varese gratefully closed the distance between them, gripping Kylar's hips rather roughly, to the wetboy's dismay. Nevertheless, he never broke his façade, needing Varese to drop his guard completely. Kylar gasped and pretended to be taken aback by Varese's overconfident move.

"I don't mind it in the least." Varese snaked his arm around to Kylar's lower back and pulled him flush against him. "This will be a nice parting gift."

He forced the wetboy to look at him; their eyes connecting for an instant in the rapidly darkening chamber. But when the elder man moved to kiss him, Kylar held a finger between them. He forced a mischievous smirk.

"Not there." He purred. "Not yet."

Varese straightened, an eyebrow raised humorously. "If that's how you want it."

Hiding his true intentions behind an impish air, the wetboy took one of the man's hands on his waist in his own. He tugged at it playfully. "Yes. If you work for it, it'll be worth more."

Inwardly he rolled his eyes at the man's actions. Kylar was getting most of his material from what he had heard women in Momma K's brothel tell their clients. He remembered scoffing at how desperate they could act, although they could be quite the adversary when they weren't selling themselves. The wetboy would have never believed that he'd have to stoop as low as Azoth once had. His skin prickled at the thought. And to think, Kylar was now repeating Azoth's mistake.

He didn't realize until he landed on something soft that Kylar had been laid over the foot of the bed. Kylar's leather pouch had been untied and thrown into a corner of the room somewhere and he could feel Varese leaning over him. It wasn't long before the wetboy's clothing had been completely removed and discarded, leaving him bare and at the mercy of his prey.

_ _ _

It was long, painful and excruciatingly nostalgic. Every sound, every feeling, every movement brought back horrible memories. Kylar cringed as Varese began to finish with him, trying to keep his senses as William became Kylar and Kylar quickly became Azoth.

"I believe you owe me a kiss." Varese cooed against Kylar's ear as the wetboy collapsed beneath him.

Kylar smirked tiredly and wrapped his arms around Varese's neck for leverage. He placed a chaste kiss on the man's lips, allowing Varese to lick at the place where the Cantarella lingered. "Requiescat in pace," he whispered.

It didn't register in Varese's mind what fate those words had brought upon him. He could feel the exhaustion in his muscles begin to take over and was promptly overwhelmed by sleep. Kylar watched the man slump beside him unconscious before he pulled himself out of the bed. Thoroughly sore, he crossed the floor to retrieve his leather pouch and protruded the tiny needle wrapped in cloth from it before returning back to Varese.

The tiny needle glinted in the dying candlelight as Kylar crawled up next to his prey. It would be quick and painless; the complete opposite of what the wetboy had just been subjected to. Part of him wished he had brought along his half sword and stashed it under the bed, but the thought quickly vanished as he jammed the needle into Varese's wrist. The flickering candle danced across the room as if caught in a breeze and vanished, forever lost in the darkness. It would only be a matter of time before the poison took effect and Kylar could finally return home.

Out of the corner of Kylar's eye, he thought he saw a wisp of white, like a ghost, pass by the window. He instantly became alert, searching, listening, and waiting for whoever had surely witnessed the spectacle to show themselves. It wasn't long before the entity emerged; white against the black of night.

"Ezio," Kylar breathed.

At first, the silence was deafening. The elder assassin only stared down at Kylar, an expression half of irritation and half of something the wetboy didn't quite understand on his features. Anxious for the other man to say something, Kylar pulled himself off the bed and stood in front of him.

"If you have something to say then say it." His ice-blue eyes narrowed in the darkness.

Ezio met the younger's gaze before he spoke. His usually soothing voice came out in a cold hiss. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in tonight?"

Kylar straightened defensively. "I did what I had to. I don't need the lecture."

A low growl made the wetboy feel uneasy. Was Ezio really that mad; and for what reason? Kylar could feel the frustration and anger start to boil beneath his skin. He wanted answers. He wanted to know why Ezio was so persistent in pointing out Kylar's flaws. The fact of the matter was that Varese was dead; the job was done, so why linger on what could have been?

Kylar stood his ground, preparing for a venomous reply.

In front of him he could hear the rustle of heavy fabric and what sounded like a miniscule latch being undone. He shifted and focused on the elder assassin's movements. The cape that draped over one of Ezio's shoulders was now in his hands and he stepped around Kylar in one fluid movement. The wetboy's first reaction was to move away, but his feet were frozen in place, his heart pounded in his chest. Ezio noticed the younger's dilemma and smirked despite being sore with the boy. He wrapped the cloak around Kylar's shoulders and spun him around to face him.

"Be a little more modest." Ezio said.

Kylar's cheeks began to burn as he remembered his lack of clothing. He also took note that he should probably take a bath once he got back to his room at the inn. He hmph-ed indignantly as he pulled the material tighter around his body which earned a soft chuckle from the elder man standing in front of him.

"We should be going." The assassin replied before hoisting Kylar up into his arms.

"What the-!" Kylar hissed, fighting to get down. "I have legs you know! Put me down!"

Ezio unlatched the door and turned the handle unfazed. "You won't get three houses in your condition." And with that, the conversation was over.