Hello, everyone! I am so so sorry for not posting this sooner, but I got writer's block and then got stuck into Prototype ^_^ btw, go and read the stories I made for Prototype, if you have time. I'm happy with them.

Anyway, thanks to L'Artista Brilliante for giving a review, and I'm glad you think so, as I am not holding anything back with this story. I was so excited when I got new people watching the story, so you should all know that every new alert, fave or review gets more chapters, as I was jump-kicked into writing more because of those lovely people. There isn't a translation guide below, as I am getting tired of translating stuff everyone knows already.

Anyway, I don't own Assassin's creed but I do own this random noble and the awesome Monstro. Venice belongs to Italy. O.O

Rated K+

A door slammed in the richly decorated Palazzo, hurried footsteps sounding down a cream and gold hallway and the sound of shouting in other parts of the palace. The man that rushed was short and flustered from his hurry, an envelope clutched in a sweaty hand. He quickly wiped his face with the cuff, pausing outside of a pair of thick wooden doors that were decorated with engravings of winged lions. The man looked down at his feet and winced before shoving both doors open in one go, though his entry was far more timid.

"Messer? I have a message from the shipping company, they say that your cargo has... er... escaped, signor?" the short man asked in confusion, having read the note before giving it to his master. The room he had entered was large, for a bedroom, decorated with thick cushions and heavy drapes to block out the sun. The only source of light was the sun, streaming from the door, and a nearly-dead fire that still spat sparks and smoke.

"Signor? Are you sleeping, and shall I leave?" he asked awkwardly. The blankets shuddered, and were then thrown back by an angry hand, an extraordinarily fat man lurching out from his richly coloured and covered bed. His face screwed into an unwelcoming sneer, and the fat man waddled up to his messenger, roughly grabbing the front of his shirt.

"What did I say about waking me from my beauty sleep, idiota? Do you not remember what happened to the last man to walk so brazenly into my private rooms? Well? Do you?" the overweight noble half-screamed into his underling's face. The colour fled from the messenger's face, and he spluttered, hanging limply in his master's grip. Suddenly the hand that clutched his shirt let go, and the short man fell to the floor.

"Now, per favore, tell me why you have disobeyed my orders."

"Please, messer, I came to give you a letter. It was opened by the guard as a security measure, and he said-"

"Wait! Speak slower, pest, or I'll find a way to keep your tongue from wagging at all! And what do you mean; the guard read my personal letter? Cazzo, private messages are private for a reason!" the fat man spat, towering over the messenger who had yet to climb to his feet once more.

"I am sorry, but please, the note said that your cargo was damaged on its way-"

"WHAT?"

"Yes, uh, the box was broken by a disturbance in the streets and the cargo was... lost? I am sorry messer, but how can cargo escape?" the short man asked timidly, scrambling backwards slowly so he had room to get back up.

The fat man did not respond to the question, but instead fled from his rooms, pulling on a robe while still going as fast as his short legs could carry him. Not being fit enough to stand even a light jog without becoming exhausted, he arrived at his office panting and gasping for breath, clothes askew and eyes slightly bulging from their sockets.

"Guards! GUARDS!" he screeched, attempting to pull his clothes into submission and out of their wrinkles. Soon after his shout, a troupe of five heavily armed guards arrived in two straight lines and with one brute at its head. They strode to their leader and knelt, waiting for their orders.

"I need you men to find something for me," the noble said with a vicious snarl on his face.

The brute at the head of his gang of soldiers stood and walked forwards, saluting respectfully. "Signor, what is it that you need us to do?" he growled in a guttural voice.

"A little pet of mine has escaped. I need you to bring it back to me alive, and in good condition."

The brute blinked, clearly surprised. "Sir, we are soldiers. Do you think it wise for us to go and hunt down little animals for you? Surely we could be of more use here?"

The noble huffed and sat down at his desk, his brow crinkled with suppressed anger. "You are MY soldiers! Mine! You will do what I ask, and you shall do so without hesitation! And besides, this pet is not a little animal... it is a black devil in the shape of an animal!"

The soldiers muttered amongst themselves fearfully, until the head brute waved a hand, bringing immediate silence. He then turned to his master and bowed. "We shall bring back this black devil, I assure you, messer."

"You had better. Otherwise I will see you all in the places that the assassin has been known to lurk within. Dismissed."

All five guards trooped back out of the room and out of the palazzo in grim silence. The noble sat back and snickered, hands clasping behind his head. He would have his devil brought back to him, and then he would have it trained to follow the scent of that cursed Auditore Assassin. There was no telling if the man in white would attempt to kill him, just another noble, but that was not good enough. He needed confirmation.

"My little Nero Diavolo shall be a swift and merciless killer, and it will become the perfect solution to this problem. Hah!"