"Oh crap," I mutter as the screen suddenly goes blank and the scope retracts, power dying shortly after the camera displays the message 'battery exhausted', "That was my last set!"

I shake my head and replace the camera in its holster, hidden beneath my pouch. The pouch is made of lovely silk, and is completely inconspicuous. If the guards ever searched me, however, I would have some explaining to do…

"I'll have to go back for more batteries later," As I continue to talk to myself, I start to walk into the setting sun, "For now though, I can still have some fun."

"Salve," A man nods his head at me as he strolls past, grinning. Guess he's in a good mood… Or maybe he's just polite. Either way, it was certainly nice to hear. I smile back at him and proceed on my route to the Mercato Nouvo.

The Mercato is a marvelous place, and also the site of most of my photo sessions. Of course, taking the pictures isn't always easy. Occasionally, someone does see me huddling off in the corner holding what appears to be a large rectangle with a telescope attached, and it flashes like a firecracker. And then they get curious…That usually means I have to call it a day and scuttle back to the Door before things get hairy and I get searched.

Oh…I should start from the beginning, shouldn't I?

It's pretty simple, really. I was just going about my business back in the good ol' year 2011; feeding my cat, playing Assassin's Creed (the only video game I can play continuously), animating digitally, going to school- normal, modern things. And then randomly, out of no place, I got kicked out of my apartment.

Sucks, right?

If I'd had a good lawyer, I probably could've kept the place, but I didn't. So I lost it. And I had to go somewhere else. Well, I found somewhere else- an old family house. It used to belong to my great-great-aunt, a European immigrant whose parents brought her to America early last century. She died a few years ago, but I didn't want the house. It's sorta creepy, you know? And I wanted my own place.

Well, now I didn't have a choice, so I moved in. I rent out the upstairs during the year and live on the main floor. It's pretty nice, a little removed from the city, but still-

Whoops, I'm sidetracking, aren't I?

Sorry. Anyway, once winter-vacation rolled around, I decided I was going to clean out the basement and turn it into my new animating studio! Cool, huh? Yeah, I thought so. Only the place was a lot dustier than I ever could have dreamed. And the stuff I found down there! I couldn't even recognize half of it, it was so old. I had to bring my laptop down and wiki everything I couldn't distinguish.

So everything was going fine until I stumbled upon it. The wardrobe. It's not a dresser, or a bureau- this thing is an honest-to-goodness wardrobe. And it looked like two hundred years old.

Well, against all my best judgments, I opened it up. I expected mothballs, actually. A horrid stench, perhaps, maybe some half-eaten clothes.

I didn't expect a window to the nineteenth century.

My jaw dropped in astonishment and I just watched as the snow swirled outside the cabin, a fire crackled in the hearth, and a middle-aged woman prattled off to her nodding husband.

It took me a long time to realize that I could actually enter the window. However when I did, I found that I was completely visible, and according to the couple- I just stepped out of their closet.

After some quick questions, I learned that I was in what appeared to be the house of my great-great-aunt's parents, who lived in the country of Lithuania, in the year 1897.

I dove back in the closet and landed in my dusty basement, scared out of my wits. I slammed the wardrobe closed and breathed for a while. Just…breathed.

A few months of experimentation revealed that I could visit any time period I wished, with a little tweaking. Since the Renaissance was a time period I enjoyed, I did often travel to fifteenth-century Italy (where I was very pleased to discover the Auditore family really did exist).

Another thing I discovered is that although I can travel to any century, global time remains the same. As a consequence, if I wanted to visit the year 1476 at two o'clock, I would have to leave home at seven o'clock, as Italy is seven hours ahead of the Midwest. This is why I almost always appear on the streets of Florence during the dusky hours.

And of course before I left I visited my local Renaissance fair, in order to properly prepare myself. I went to the two-hour presentations discussing etiquette, I asked the doctors about their wares, and I picked up some more-or-less authentic looking dresses (though they're pretty itchy, seeing as they're not exactly made of silk and they actually came with instructions on how to put them on).

Anyway, enough about how I got here.

Minutes were passing, and the sun was already below the horizon. I've been here for a few hours already, and I woke up early to get some of the best shots, so it figures. I stifle a yawn with my right hand, shaking myself as I come closer to the alley. See, as in Lithuania I appeared from a closet, in Italy I appear from a broken cupboard laying in a muddy backstreet. It's the only way to get in and out. Occasionally, someone will move the cupboard and I'll show up somewhere else entirely, and sometimes I get lost. But I always make it home in time for lunch.

"Hey beautiful," I turn, surprised that someone else would be this close to a dark alley this time of evening. Blushing slightly, I notice another girl, maybe slightly older than me, with a group of young men approaching her. They brush past me as though I were invisible.

The girl was pretty; I'll give her that. Long, black hair, dark eyes, wonderful, almost glowing skin...Strictly as an artist, I could tell when a female was considered 'very attractive'.

She giggles as the boys admire her loveliness. To me though it sorta looks like she's going through the motions. When she waves her wrist, fanning herself, flashing a smile- she's done this all before. Then again, I wouldn't be surprised to learn the guys have, too.

However if the men had come up to me instead of her, I wouldn't be nearly as casual. They were tall guys, powerful looking. They didn't wear any unusual clothing and they didn't seem to be part of a clan or anything. Just some boys on the street looking for some fun, that's all. And some of them were rather pretty-looking boys.

Silently, I wish I could revive my camera and take a good shot before turning away and heading down the alley. Sure enough, there's the rotting wood cupboard, waiting patiently for me to climb aboard. But just before I open the door and step back into the future, a noise captures my attention. It's coming from the street, and ends just as abruptly as it begun.

I frown, playing it through my mind again…It sounded almost like a shriek, but cut off in the middle. So more like a sharp gasp, or something. Perhaps the Flirtatious Young Men and the Beautiful Woman were engaging in some sort of ancient Renaissance ritual forever lost to the ages?

In any event, I turn back to the street and shuffle towards the commotion. What meets my eyes causes my body to lock up in horror.

The girl has a rag over her mouth and is being dragged by two of the men into the alleyway opposite mine, while another of them stands guard by its mouth. For a heart-pounding moment, her illustrious black eyes meet with mine and scream for help. But I can't move. My blood has gone cold and my limbs are tingling. Did I really just witness that? Are they kidnapping her? Or worse?

Briefly, I consider running back into the cupboard and slamming the door. I'm not even supposed to be here- maybe it was that girl's destiny to be raped in an alley. No, no I can't do that. I won't do that. She needs help, and I have to help her. But how? I'm just a kid with a dead camera!

Suddenly I'm running across the street. A loud, painful cry escapes from the darkened passage before me. The man standing watch sends me a threatening glare as I approach. I take a deep breath and shout:

"Leave her alone!"

My voice cracks on the last word. For a moment, all movement in the side street stops.

"Go home, little girl," The watchman snarls at me, and my hands start to shake, "You didn't see anything."

I nod and stagger back. I swallow dry spit and then turn, sprinting down the road as fast as I can.

"GUARDS!" I scream, aware that the big, mean rapist is probably chasing me down, "GUARDS! GUARDS!"

Dear god, is everyone in Italy deaf?

"GUA-"

WHUMP!

Something large and heavy collides with my back, throwing me to the ground. Pain blooms on my arms and legs as well as several bruises, but I don't have time to think about it because a pair of hands is fastened around my waist. When I realize I am being abducted, I start to thrash, trying to yell through the gag that has just been secured around my jaw.

I twist, trying to get a good look at my captor, but I already know what's going on, so what's the point. It's the watchman from the alley, and he's going to kill me. Just not in the street.

He shoves me into the dirty backstreet, and I fall rather messily into the dirt. My right hand lands on something soft and pleasant. As I pick myself up, the two men from before pause and eye me warily.

"What is she doing here?" Oh my god, is that her? In the dark it's hard to tell, but I think I see the girl from earlier…Or what's left of her. With growing nausea, I discover that the soft feeling came from a piece of her skirt.

"She was passing by and got too nosy," The lookout gruffly replies, "I don't think anyone heard her, but it is dusk. You know the patrols will be shifting soon, Angelo."

"Merda!" One of the criminals swears violently, eliciting a whimper from someone female. It may have been me.

"What should we do, kill them?" Another voice questions. It carries an edge of nervousness with it.

"No, I don't want a body on our hands. And besides, you don't know if the guards are coming or not."

Suddenly, the first voice becomes louder and shakier, "And if they are? They'll hang us!"

"No one's going to hang us, Emilio. Calm down." While the outlaws converse, the young woman and I share glances again. Tears stream down her cheeks, and one of her beautiful eyes is swelled shut.

"I-I've never broken the law before, Angelo. I have a family to take care of-"

"So you're going to abandon us?" Angelo's voice morphs from reassuring to cold and dangerous. This monster's name must be one of the universe's cruel jokes.

Emilio backs away, trembling. He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it and runs from the scene.

"Emilio!" Angelo shouts after him, but the man is gone, the tapping footsteps all that remains.

"What now, Angelo?" the watchman asks, voice still low, "We can't just let them go. They can describe us to the guard!"

"Si," Angelo agrees, "Probably best just to kill them. Leave the bodies here for the watch to find."

What?

"At least that way we can't be connected-"

"You-you can't do that!" My vocal chords suddenly begin to work again, "You can't just…Murder us like this!"

Angelo looks at me, and I shudder. His eyes are the only things I can make out in the darkness, grey as stone. They carry no expression.

Slowly, he draws a knife from his belt. It glints in the faint moonlight. He brings it to my eye level, watching as I shrink away from it.

"Watch me," he whispers.

Before any of us can act, Angelo turns and plunges the blade into the girl's stomach.

"STOP!" I scream as she cries out in agony, as though he had stabbed us both. Angelo twists the handle and it makes a sickening, elongated sound. Sobs are ripping themselves from my throat, sobs for this poor woman. What could she possibly have done to deserve this?

Suddenly, torchlight spills into the alley, along with armored footfalls.

"La guardia!" A man calls, "What's going on here?"

Angelo's breath hitches, and for the first time I see fear flicker across his eyes. With a jerk, he slides the knife from the girl's torso, and I spring forward to catch her. Angelo motions to his minion and the two stumble away, disappearing far before the guards appear by my side.

"You! Signora, what…Dio caro…"

Blood is quickly pooling around us as I cradle her beautiful head in my lap.

"It'll be ok," I sniff, and she looks up at me with only one glossy orb, "You're gonna be just fine!"

She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

"Gliano, get a doctor, now!"

An armored man kneels beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, my face flushed and puffy, expecting to see the firm guise of a police officer. Instead, his helmet has been removed, and his gaze is brimmed with pity.

"I'm sorry-" He starts to speak, but I interrupt.

"She's not dead!" I protest, like an indignant child, "Don't say that!"

I return my attention to the girl in my arms. Blood is trickling from her mouth, and she weakly reaches for my hand. I grab it and squeeze hard.

"This shouldn't have happened to you," I tell her. "It's not right."

She shakes her head, still unable to reply. Then suddenly, she pauses and emits an odd gurgling sound. I gasp sharply, stomach sinking as her eye loses what little glimmer it had.

"Hey!" I shake her, but it's useless. "HEY!"

"Stop it," the guard's grip on me increases, "Let her rest."

I don't know whether to twist free of him, or to lean into his touch. This person, this girl I only knew for a few minutes, just died in my arms.

"You're right." I say, sliding my hand over her thick eyelashes, allowing her undamaged eye to close forever.

"Mi despiace."