Author´s Note: Aaaaaand it´s a new part. You all know where I got my inspiration and that I do not get paid for it…crap…
It's raining cats and dogs right now and we all aren't doing very much but sitting around and waiting until the weather gods decide that it's not time for Armageddon yet.
We had to turn off the power for the Animus.
Too dangerous to continue…well, that's what Lucy said.
I will not lie: I'm enjoying my free time right now.
The apple in my hand looks delicious and when I take a bite from it I note to myself to thank Rebecca later for buying actual food.
Right now she's busy doing her own thing in her room, as are the other two.
I yawn contentedly and make myself a little more comfortable on the bed.
Reliving Ezio's memories feels different than with Altair.
Of course.
Two different times, two different places and two different men. The only thing they have in common is being an assassin.
However, this is not what makes it much easier to enjoy myself when being Ezio.
It's the way he acts when faced with an unsolvable problem, the way he's constantly making new allies and friends while being just his usual self and the way he trusts the ones he honors and loves.
I snort and throw the poor, remaining contents of the apple in the near trash bin.
Almost miss it…
Ezio and love. Two incompatible things.
Well, not exactly.
If you only count the physical part, he's a master waiting for his own. I even intend to learn from his way of subconscious flirting and use it.
That is if I ever get the chance of not being stuck in some secret building with a bunch of weirdos trying to fry my brain because an evil organization wants to take over the world or something like that…
Only once have I thought Ezio capable of loving in every meaning. And that was with a girl named Christina at the beginning of my sessions. But after fleeing Florence I haven't met or even thought about her until now.
Partly, because there are always new people to meet. And maybe that's what I like most about it. This constant coming and going of possible acquaintances or friends keeps the guilt from controlling everything I do.
And guilt there is.
I have seen half of my family die. Betrayed by the ones they thought could be trusted.
I've seen my little brother's wide and fearful eyes, barely holding the flow of tears back.
I've heard my father's cries for revenge.
I too have felt the earth under my feet crumble, opening wide and sucking me whole into the black abyss…
I gasp, sitting straight up on the bed.
That's why I hate rainy days. They keep me thinking. Normally this is nothing to worry about. And normally I wouldn't. But these aren't my thoughts. They're Ezio's.
I rub my neck slowly and look out of the window.
Not seeing anything though.
Everything's even worse because I can't control it.
And how could I?
When I'm in the Animus I too can admire Venice's beauty from high above the rooftops.
I too can still remember every woman's perfume he slept with.
And every time he's running from the guards I too feel the sting in my lungs, the wind in my face, the weightlessness when performing a leap of faith, the exhaustion when finally knocking on Leonardo's door.
I am there when Ezio impatiently waits for it to open.
I am there when he is greeted with the most heartwarming smile we've ever seen in our lives.
I am there when he is embraced gently from the person he trusts most in his life.
Hell, I have the right to be confused!
Because it feels so real…
In there I have so much to live for, to fight for.
So many people who are more than worth dying for.
Mother, Claudia, Mario, La Volpe, Antonio, Rosa, Leonardo...
When I'm in the Animus it's not me reliving my ancestor's memories!
It's me being Ezio Auditore da Firenze, last heir of a family of assassins!
And damn it, it feels a thousand times better than being me!
I feel the wetness on my cheeks before I can try to stop it.
I'm crying silent tears…
Fuck!
I'm tired of this whole shit!
Tired of being used as a tool for reaching an almost impossible goal.
Tired of knowing that this feeling of warmth and security is nothing but an illusion created by the memories I have to go through.
Tired of staring at this unnaturally pale reflection of a man who long ago has recognized he can never decide his own fate.
I bash my head against the wall behind me.
Hoping the pain's going to cloud those dark thoughts.
It won't…
And I know that …
However it doesn't stop me from doing it again and again.
Maybe then those pictures will go away.
Happy pictures…happy memories…happy dreams…
Fuck!
I don't want them! I don't need them!
They show me all too well what I am craving for when I wake up.
Love, peace, rest…an almost normal life!
I hate them and yet I still need them to survive this mess.
The tears feel hot on my cheeks.
I just wish for someone to hold me in his or her arms.
To tell me everything's going to be alright.
Someone who's giving me this warm feeling of safety, of being loved…
I sound like a pussy…great…
I stop reducing the last ones of my brain cells.
The rain has stopped. At least one good thing.
The alarm clock near my bed tells me it's almost twelve.
How time flies…
Roughly I wipe the rest of tears from my face. I don't want the others to see them in the morning.
Don't want them to worry even more.
Have to be in good shape. Well, at least a part of me has to…
And as far as I can see my body's still working.
I look out of the window a last time before turning around to sleep.
I still see nothing…
Nothing but a man whose envy and greed will someday cost him his mind.
And sadly I don't care about him.
Because I know he will still function in the morning…like a fine-tuned machine…