Cesare Borgia belongs to himself and/or Ubisoft, while Mario Auditore belongs to the latter.

Cesare Borgia was, contrary to popular belief, a morning person, at least where grooming was concerned. So one average morning found him in front of his bath mirror, towel around his waist, trimming his fabulous goatee, as usual, when came an unconventional visitor at his window.

"Hey Cesare," called Mario Auditore from the window-ledge.

Too absorbed in his hygiene, the son of the Pope simply registered his name being said, and answered with an absentminded "Hm?"

"There's something on your face!" Mario, with a silence and speed belying his bulk, had climbed through the window and approached the distracted man with a fist raised in preparation for a punch, a shit-eating grin all over his face.

Cesare, finally realising there was an Assassin in his room, dropped his razor, grabbed the towel more securely around his waist, sucked in a split-second too late breath to yell for the guards no doubt snoozing in the hall, and cringed, bracing for the impact of a leather-clad fist crunching his nose.

There was a sharp sounding crack in the air, but the expected assault never came.

Instead, when the Templar dared open an eye to see what happened, a macabre sight greeted him. The leader of the italian Assassins lay on the floor, blood leaking from a small round hole in the back of his head.

Nearly having a heart attack for the second time that morning, it was all Cesare could do to whimper "Guards!" as he sank to the floor in a dead faint, right next to his sworn enemy.

And unknown to all, from the roof across the street there stood a teenage brunette, with glasses and extremely displeased expression on her face, aiming a sniper rifle just where the bullet had entered the elder Auditore's head.

"No," she murmured to the corpse across the street.

"No one touches my Cesare."