A/N And I'm back from the dead! Isn't that great? Sorry about my lateness with this update, I've had some disagreements with my internet browser lately so it was rather annoying. But regardless I'm back, I'm very thankful for all the reviews and other things, and I'm also hoping you'll enjoy this chapter, slight warning, it's a bit longer than the others. Enjoy.

It was warm underneath the sheets of soft cotton as Rosa woke, her eyes barely opening from lack of energy. The shapes and colors blurred together to form a blob that strangely resembles Ugo's attempt at art. She moved her hand around the bed, feeling up from where it lay beside her and to her head, removing the cloth from over her. Sunlight shined in her face and she immediately shut her eyes from the burning sensation from her unadjusted pupils. She slowly sat up in the bed she was in, noting that her ankle still hurt like hell as she did so. Slowly she began to see through the hazy mist that covered her eyes and saw a single white robbed form standing near the door. Before she could say anything the person left, a small tail of robes following them.

She sat up straighter in the bed, twisting around so she could see where she was. She found herself in a very nice room of sorts, at least, a lot nicer then the ones back at the guilds' main buildings. Her clothes were across the room sitting on a chair, the articles of clothing perfectly symmetrical, and her stiletto was on top of the pile. She tried to get up when she hissed out in pain, her ankle flaring up at the movements she was making. She flopped back into the sheets and sighed, knowing that she wasn't going anywhere, and fast. Her eyebrow twitched as she heard a familiar voice laughing from just outside the room, and I didn't help that she suspected it was at her. She leaned her head up as someone closed the door, turning around in a frill of green fabric as they silently began to move towards the bed.

"How are you Rosa?" A familiar, and at the moment, very annoying voice asked, their amusement at her situation very much evident in their speech.

"Well I don't know Antonio, how would you feel after being chased by those bastardos, falling from two floors up, and passing out without knowing why?"

"Hey, I was just curious bella Rosa, I mean no harm." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Curiosity killed the cat idiota." She huffed and then sat up in the bed a little more, looking over her mentor, doctor, and guild leader.

"True," he chuckled, "but I'm not a cat. And you passed out from stress, twisting your ankle and being chased, along with all this fighting, just seemed to be too much for your head to handle, so you passed out."

"Did we win?"

"Yes, but it seems that Il Mentore was right, it was only a victory in meaning, and not substantial." Rosa looked at him, confused by what he was saying.

"What do you mean, not substantial? We got the Seta back didn't we?" Antonio turned his gaze out the window and sighed, his hands resting on the frame.

"We did, but the Borgia are too strong. The Seta was only one of their minor ports, in other words, we didn't even scratch them." Rosa frowned at him, the confusion clearing from her gaze.

"But we can strike them, can't we? Back before… Before back then we were able to hit them hard with help from one Assassin, so why can't we now?" Antonio sighed again.

"Because, back then the Borgia only thought of Venezia as a stepping stone, a way to get into Roma, but now that they have been almost completely run out of their twisted empire's home they turned to Firenze and Venezia to become their new base. It began when he started to fight them, when we lost connection from the outside. As of two years ago we were contacted by an Assassin, a recruit Il Mentore sent to assassinate a noble under the Borgia's control, she said that in months, maybe a year, Il Mentore will have killed Cesare Borgia and Rodrigo. He did, Rodrigo was killed with a poisoned apple by Cesare, and Cesare has been imprisoned, somewhere outside of Roma. After that they disappeared, slowly pulling out of the city and of into their other conquests."

"Then what."

"They turned their full attention to Venezia and Firenze, and now we're here, their conquest was complete the day the brotherhood began to fight them. We lost Venezia."

"That can't be the end of it though, aren't we still fighting?"

"Yes, but it's an uphill battle, their reach is too vast and too strong, the Assassins are having a hard time handling them anyways, what with several Borgia soldiers escaping Roma, and all of them knowing Il Mentore's real name. Which could cause a lot of trouble for us in the future." Rosa starred blankly at him.

"And why's that?"

Antonio laughed, "Because the Borgia didn't like him before he was Il Mentore. And they probably want his head on a platter by now." Antonio started his way to the door, pausing in mid-step to turn back to Rosa who still lay in the bed. "In three days there's going to be a party held by the new Doge, Il Mentore will be there. And if he succeeds, a Doge that is loyal to us will be appointed. I hope you'll be there." And then he spun around and left, the atmosphere left by his sudden seriousness hanging in the morning light as if it was a chandelier that illuminated a large ballroom. She pulled herself back into the sheets of the bed, knowing that if she was going to be at that party in three days she'd need to have her ankle as healed as it could get, and rest would help that. Slowly she drifted of into dreams, her eyes slowly fluttering shut, the thoughts in her head swirling into a single black picture, and then she fell into slumber.

00100

The party was very much like Carnival, the Borgia's corrupt Doge hosted a special party that took several of the highest nobles and captured them in their ever reaching influence. Out side the groups, jesters preformed tricks, mild-mannered games played, and many other activates that excited the wealthy crowd. Among them were the courtesans, the givers and takers of Venezia's great trade, money in exchange for items or service, theirs being brought into the public less though. In other parts there were the guard, ever watchful and waiting, ready to pounce on any disturbance should it appear. They were all tense at the moment, a feeling of unrest settling over them as they waited, the air was tight, the party spinning, and the feeling soon became dread in its truest form.

Something was going to happen, the courtesans knew it, the Borgia, the Doge, and even the uninvited guests came to have the same feeling. All but one of them didn't have the slightest idea as to why this was so, and the exception being the disguised thieves. The Brotherhood had something planned, something that Anetta had only hinted to earlier in the evening. But the effect was appropriate, the tension created an opening in the air-tight defense that the guards created, their minds clogged with thoughts on what could or may happen, never staying with their eyes as they scanned the crowd. The thieves had done well with disguising themselves, the Brotherhood had supplied them with the clothes of jesters and guards alike, the positions each one took was carefully opened by the Assassins, and not a single guard screamed.

Antonio was dressed as one of the more agile guards, his armor spaced out to fit how he liked it, easy to move, to be fluid, and steal. A dagger, custom made in Roma by one of the Brotherhood's allies, Bartolommeo's blacksmith, and was supplied by Leonardo Di Vinci, as a token of luck. All of the thieves had been given weapons from Di Vinci's ship, the blades being greatly appreciated throughout the guild. After they'd been spread out amongst the crowd it truly began, the bodies moving into the crowd, white, silver, and black cowls filled the crowds, the color and clothing of each was decided by their preference of disguise. But the thieves hadn't seen Il Mentore in the crowd, he was nowhere to be found, at first he'd exchanged words with Antonio, telling him what his signal to strike was, and then he simply vanished, like a shadow in the midnight scene.

But he had doubts about the plan; it was very risky, and very, very dangerous, if one of the thieves screwed up it would be all over. No more resistance to the Borgia, the guild would be wiped out. But of course, it was unlikely that it would turn that way, there wasn't a second thought in Il Mentore's mind that he could let that happen, especially with Rosa in attendance. In fact, Antonio's musings were countered by the Master Assassin's own, his plan shifting with the variables that presented themselves. His plan was simple; they get in, kill the Doge, and get out. But the last part wouldn't happen unless the thieves were on time with their distraction, otherwise the Assassins would be left out in the open where the few remaining gunman stood watch.

Il Mentore was the only Assassin without a disguise, the only one that would immediately be identified if they were caught, but he was careful. He had already prepared the way for himself, assassinating the guards who would be positioned in his way was an easy task for one such as himself. No coincidence insinuated. He was just that good at what he did, and he wouldn't be over confident or coincided about it, only showing what skills he'd already shown before. The assassinations had been none to difficult, taking some from inside hay stacks, drawing them into alleys and striking them when the curiosity proved too great to ignore. And he certainly didn't forget having to pull one from a gondola and into the water with his hidden blade stabbed into his heart.

After he'd done that there was nothing to do but wait, to wait in silence and solitude, planning another escape should his primary fail. His eagle sharp eyes scanned the crowd as he waited for his target to show himself, for his way in to be free and the kill swift and silent. The Doge should have arrived by now, the party was well on its way and the crowds were becoming restless, which only added to the guards' troubles. But with the tension building it would give him his opening, the guards too tense to keep track of all of the people and the chaotic nature of the people adding to the confusion. Once the kill was made there would be an instance of pure insanity, the instance that others ignored, but the Assassin embraced. It was in those moments that they exploited their enemy's weaknesses; every possible way to turn the tables further to their side was taken in.

But of course he would still be waiting for the Doge for now, a silent vigil out of sight of the guards. He sat upon a bench marked with two red sheets of cloth, the same neutrality passing over him as he simply blended to the crowd, all suspicion avoided. He spotted the form of a thief coming through the crowd, his disguise that of the Borgia's messengers. He swiftly made his way through the crowd and to the Master Assassin, his strides edging away from the patrol passing the bench by. Around the messenger the Assassins formed a perimeter, and unseen barrier to keep any unwanted ears from picking up the conversation. They were told not to cause suspicion with the guards but throw off any trouble makers that came close.

The Assassins, except Il Mentore, were all in disguise, capes, different shades of color, shiny articles of clothing. They were disguised as guests, as simple nobles with out name or cause. On all of their left arms were crests, red insignias with the symbol of their creed woven into it. Their weapons were hidden on their forms, daggers inside of belts, throwing knives just inside a billowing shirt. Some had crossbows hidden on them, the machines broken into two pieces and placed inside their disguise. The hidden blade that all the Assassins used as their greatest tool, their deadliest weapon, was in the bracers on their left forearm, the advanced killing devices ready for use at a moments notice. He had been prepared.

The messenger sat beside Il Mentore and shifted his weight silently down, turning his head to the side and down, speaking to him yet not speaking to him at all. "Antonio says they are all ready. The men are in place and archers taken care of on the north wall. Several of the guards have been replaced as an improvised plan; they'll take care of anything that comes from the east."

"Is that all?"

"No, the boats are prepared and Bartolommeo's men are holding up the Papal guards who are escorting the Doge."

"The troops are here?"

"Si, and the Doge has been delayed by them, one of the Borgia's 'protection' plans." Il Mentore pulled a piece of cloth from his belt and wrapped a throwing knife in it, careful to keep the edge from cutting into the fabric. He handed it to the messenger while he spoke.

"Grazie, take this to Antonio, he will know what to do." The messenger smoothly took the concealed knife from him and stood, not even glancing back as he left. The Master Assassin waited for several minutes before moving, standing in a crowd that gathered before a stage that the Borgia announced would be where the Doge spoke from. Several guards closed in around the stage, forming a vast perimeter around the raised platform keeping the people away from it. The guards cleared apart a path for the Doge to his left, the great leader of Venezia smiling and waving to the crowd as he began his speech,

Il Mentore moved to his right, his form obscured by the bodies around him while he gazed upon the podium that the Doge would speak from. He loosened three throwing knives into his right hand as he began to prepare for the kill, apprehension shut out from force of will. He watched the Doge approach the podium with building anticipation, his muscles relaxing rather than tensing, a side affect of his experience. The Doge cleared his throat before gazing over the crowd, his eyes showing a false mask of sincerity over his insincere words.

"Grand people of Venezia, I am here now, humbled as I am, at this post. This place of vigil over the city." The Assassins stirred, Il Mentore began moving towards the stage with the three knives firmly in his right hand.

"I believe that with this power I can clean up the city of it's infidel vermin, the rebellious dogs that hound us during the day and night." Some people cheered, others remained in a deathly silence, seeing through the first of his many layered lies.

"But I must warn you my people, it will not be done just like that! No, I need your support to end Venezia's troubles; we need your support to defeat them!" The Master Assassin handed off two of the three knives to his Assassins, each giving an affirmative before melding back into the crowd.

"And with that support we will finish our troubles, exterminate the sickness, cut off the wounded limb!" More people cheered, affirmations of his lies corrupting the minds of the many lords and ladies there at the gathering. It was the time to strike. Just as the people reached the peak of their cheering, when the crowd was wild and uncontrolled, when the Borgia believed they had the people once again, he struck. The two other Assassins struck down the guards at his sides, the knives digging into the flesh of their backs as they met their targets with a deadly impact. As they fell the crowd started to notice, the guards tensed, but it was too late.

Il Mentore threw his own knife, the blade striking the guard only steps in front of him in the neck making him quickly fall out of the Assassin's way. He pushed his way out of the crowd, shoving aside the confused masses as he built up speed, a dead run once he broke free of their wall. And then time seemed to slow, the guards simply watched, the thieves looked on in awe, the Assassins saw their Mentore in action. His foot struck the platform as he vaulted himself into the air, his robes flying out behind him in a torrent of red and white. His legs drew in and prepared for the landing, his predatory pounce coming into form. His left arm drew back, the forearm bent, blade extended, the pose of his ancestors before him and those who would come after, the perfect form that the Assassins perfected and re-perfected overtime.

And then he was on him. His blade dug into the Doge's throat as they landed on the floor of the stage, his bent feet pressed against the man's chest as his eyes met deep chestnut brown as the Assassin did his deed. The Master Assassin's blade slid out with a slick, fluid motion as he looked on into the Doge's dying eyes, seeing the fear, shock, anger, and other flooding emotions flashing by in seconds before the inevitable stillness descended.

"Requiescat en pace." The words that had left his lips many times before and would escape them again hung in the air around him as he closed the eyes of his target. Their first reaction was silence, horror struck as the kill was made, and then it turned to chaos. Antonio took his cue and he and his thieves drew their weapons and killed the closest guard to them with simple and precise stabs in the neck or abdomen, drawing blood from the ruptured skin as they did so. Il Mentore stood up from the body of his target, the man who was now gone forever, and drew his blade simultaneously. The sword gleamed in the torch light as the battle began, the blade shining in a wordless cry for blood.

The Master Assassin dropped from the podium and stabbed his blade into an oncoming guard, the blade passing through with a practiced ease that seemed partial to only him. His eyes cast over the crowd, spotting all of his recruits immersed in battle with swords drawn and battle cries let loose. The sword slid out equal fluidity as he turned, a small leap giving him momentum as the blade passed in and out of another unfortunate guard. He cast his eyes up again as he moved, his actions mirrored by his fellows as the crowds began to disperse into the night, which destroyed their cover. He swiftly made his way over to the unoccupied dock that sat behind the stage, it's deck harboring several gondolas where undisguised thieves stood waiting.

The Assassins gather onto the gondolas along with the disguised thieves, all waiting for his affirmation to leave. He hesitated before gettingonto the boats, looking back with a cautious scan for any stragglers.

"Wait! Wait!" He had turned just in time, a single disguised thief ran up to him nearly out of breath, his voice and face panicked.

"What is it?" Il Mentore asked the thief, his voice inquisitive and a little apprehensive.

"I-It's Rosa, she-she's being attacked by the B-Borgia, she t-tripped while we ran and she told me to run ahead."

"Where is she!" His voiced expressed his worry and slight fear as he starred down at the thief through his cowl. His muscles tensed as he controlled himself and calmed down, a cool demeanor falling onto him as the thief pointed him in the right direction. "Grazie." He said after the thief pointed and he rushed off, leaving a final order to Luca for them to go on and leave, that he would catch up once he recovered Rosa. And after that he ran, he ran like the whole Papal army was behind him trumpeting and galloping on horses and boots. The sounds of a struggle met his ears as he saw Antonio fighting several guards at once, protecting the younger thieves as they escaped into the canals.

He rounded a corner and took in the situation in seconds, Rosa stood in the center, limping on one side and bleeding on another. Around her were the Papal guards who had given Bartolommeo's men the slip and followed the Doge to the party. They circled around her and gave her no room to so much as breath with quick jabs and slashes which she dodged a good majority off, but she wasn't that fast. He pulled his crossbow from his back and in one fluid movement shot an arrow into the guard on the far side of the circle, the whisper of the wind following his shot. The Papal soldiers turned to meet the newcomer as he turned the corner and joined the battle with an emotionless, mysterious smirk adorning his face.

The Master Assassin raised his left arm as he came barreling forward, releasing a quick shot from the pistol built into the bracer on his left hand. The shot met it's mark and his arm flew back from the power of the recoil, but along with experience came practice and his body span with the recoil sending the extended blade on his right wrist into the unprepared back of another soldier who arched back in pain from the blow to his spine. He pulled the blade from the flesh and begun spin again, his unconscious instinctively using the techniques he had taught him self over years. He crouched into the spin, his robes creating a swirling pin wheel of red and white as his deadly move began. The crouched ended with the spin and the momentum sent his left blade into the weak metal near the soldier's solar plexus, the blade sinking into skin quickly and then out as the other went in as well.

He pulled his blade out again and turned to his left, his arm rising to block an oncoming sword that flew towards his chest. With the movement his right arm swung in a wide arc that struck the soldier right in the throat as it passed, setting him into a gurgle as he fell to the ground dying. The Master Assassin shifted his right foot back behind him into a defensive stance while another soldier brandishing a spear tried his luck against the Assassin. The spear rushed towards the chest of the white robed Assassin and he reacted, his movement quick, precise and fluid, each with purpose and strength. He parried against the shaft of the spear with his right forearm, his hand wrapping around the same shaft as he did so keeping a firm grip on the spear. He pulled the spear to him and used the momentum of the soldier's attack to help him as he did. His left hand gripped the shaft as well as he kicked out into the guard's stomach and pulled the spear forcefully out of the hands of the Borgia's follower.

He twirled the spear around and drove it into the soldier pelvis before pulling it back quickly and roughly, spilling little blood onto the ground while doing as such. He gathered up the spear and swung it again, this time with more deadly precision and focus that reflected his own status as an Assassin. The spear's tip drug through the remaining two soldier's throats with a quick and very much slick sound as it passed through. The soldiers fell to the ground clutching their throats as he dropped the spear to the ground, apparently done using the weapon. He turned his deep eyes casting over the scene until he found himself looking into the reflective eyes of the female thief that was driven to the ground by her injury.

"Ezio?"

A/N And that's a rap for this chapter, I know, what a cliffhanger. Anyways reviews are appreciated along with any other kinds of comments. I find them very helpful. Also, I've been meaning to get around to it and finally found a place to put some responses to the various reviews I've gotten, it'll be in the next chapter.