Picture by alladammit
Requiescat in Pace - Fanfic ( Me )
Vita di Il Lupo: Entry 1
1501; January 6th.
Contract: Auditore, ?.
From the roof tops I watched a man in white strolling along through the crowd. He was slender, and young, probably no older than myself, nor younger. As he walked, I kept up from my higher point of the city, it's flourishing colors strewn across Roma. When he turned, I did too, when he ran, I kept up. And when he stopped, I became silent. Not once did he look upward to see me following, unless he'd seen my shadow and knew. For a few moments, he was turned in my direction as he stopped to talk to a Dottore. The man pulled up his sleeve, and the doctor began his work to patch up a wound. I could see a wince in his eyes from the sting of the medication, and the sneer in his mouth as it burned the germs gathered there. My eyes turned downward for the shortest of moments to the twelve-deck of throwing blades just barely concealed beneath my brown hide vest, but promptly returned it to the man. From what I could see, his fingers were unmarked by the Assassini, but the robes could not be mistaken. The long white pelts of material that hung down to imitate a bird, the ghost white robing and beak-tipped rim of the hood. The red strips lining the outfit up and down, and the mass amount of weapons hung from almost every part of the man.
Finally, he began to walk again, and again, I followed. My eyes stayed fixed on the Assassin's every movement, every sly step past what the guards were too blind to see, and the people too strong-willed for freedom to say. The Assassin! I almost wished someone else would say it instead of me. To this point, I kept up and followed until the outskirts of Roma had drawn closer, and people lesser. The sky by this time had dimmed to gray and was getting darker ever moment by moment. As time went on, the vibrant colors of the scape darkened drop by drop. There was a sudden wet sensation on my nose as a drop from the sky had let free and seek me out almost personally, but none the less unintentional I'm sure. Still, people grew less and less, and less, and because of no citizens, there was no guard to patrol. I couldn't help but wonder to myself: 'Where is he going?' There was nothing but towering walls and a single pyramid whose base concealed a Romulus entrance. Having gone through them myself, I was well aware of the insides of each and every tunnel they had, bone by decaying bone.
The Assassin, as I watched, neared one, but then stopped as if he were waiting, quickly before he could spot me, I moved behind a youthful tree whose branches were lush and green, and nowhere tamed for direction. In the darkening day, it hid me just enough. My intentions were as unclear as my expectations, and those as crystal clear as my orders to investigate and assassinate the Assassins. It was my job, my duty, my life, my training, my friends of few and meant the end of others. Through the branches, I could see the man. The rain had started in slowly, but gradually got heavier and heavier until it was a full downpour. He turned to face me, but was it me he was looking at? I doubted it when he looked left and right, and moved closer until he was right up against the door. The only way out was the same way in, I said to myself. No two Romulus doors connected. I watched him go in, and disappear from my sight. If the Romulus followers did not kill him, then it was my job to. Had I gotten enough information by this point to dispose of the Assassin? I believed so.
In this time, I found myself going back to my own training, with the Courtesan Fiora and the Barber Baltasar. Everything of importance left me as I reminisce of my time training with the two. The secrets they taught me, the stories they shared with me, the little kinks in the Borgia government, and loop holes in the contract I had signed my life away to when I was younger. I couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the mistakes I made when I was first starting out, when I had a heart to love with rather than it as it is now, molded into a ruthless bastard who's life goal was made to kill those who tried to live with freedom. I found myself a mutter then "... Foolish those who think common people can live with freedom." I said it again, but to myself, and softly more than the last. "Life without order is chaos." People need order, I said to myself; it is the very thing that held people from committing sin; from stealing, and killing, and cheating on their quelli sposata. It must have been a good fifteen minutes, I thought to myself, since the Assassin had gone down there. Whatever I found on the man once I killed him, would explain why he went down there at all.
With a sudden clank of hollow metal, I returned my focus to the entrance of the passage to see what I suspected, the Assassin climbing out with not a scratch or bruise. I wondered if maybe he was stronger than he appeared. Was I strong enough to kill the man? I would be wise, I contemplated, to wait until the moment couldn't be more perfect, before the moment came where I could not strike if I wanted to. As the man came back around, I struggled to keep my stealth, just a few feet from the man. As he came around one side of the tree, I followed suit around the other. My steps silent as a ghost over the small grains of sand and bits of rock and mud building from the rain. A flash of lightning light up the sky, and following it was a crack of thunder imitating the lashing of a whip. In the moment I took my flight toward the unsuspecting Assassin. I bound around him in a circle while he was left dumbfounded, and in a quick swift movement, I released the blade from the underside of my forearm as I came around front of him. The blades clacked into place, and all I could concentrate on was the surprise in my target's eyes and fumbled movement to block as my own arm graced forward, piercing the double-edged blade into the center of his belly.
The assassin said nothing, and I could see his face grow white with shock and pain. He did not even make the slightest of movements to kill me in return, but rather, with disbelief, turned his eyes downward to the blade in his belly, before I yanked it out. I took this time to observe the pain and confusion in the Assassin's face; I took the time to observe what he looked like. It wasn't long at all before a droplet of deep red formed at the corners of his mouth, his hands slowly shifted to his belly, as he fell forward to his knees. Quickly, his clothing was turning from white, to red with help from the rain that had already soaked us both. I crouched in front of him, resting one elbow on the arc of my two legs. The man had a scar over his lip, much like Ezio. His skin was pale from lack of sunlight, and body was quivering as he watched himself die. I slipped my blade away as easily as I had summoned it out, and with quiet words, before the man's life had slipped, I whispered to him "Requiescat in pace." Quietly after, I slipped forward, and drew my arms around the Assassin to lower him onto his back, rather than allowing him to fall with disgrace. With his attention now on me, he only offered a small smile, as I assumed he was now too weak to strike back. I waited in silence, as he watched me too. His eyes lidded open and closed, I could only assume he was seeing double, or maybe blurred by this time. He'd bled enough after all.
Minutes seemed like hours as my eyes kept contact with the Assassin's. I wondered if my staying close had calmed him, rather than allowing him to die alone. I wasn't about to ask though. It was almost sad enough, seeing the confusion staring at me. It felt almost like he was staring into my soul, but I would not allow him to break me down. No doctor could help this man now, being so close to the brink of death. I expected him to say something, anything, even a cuss, perhaps a secret, or last will. But not once did his lips part to spell even the slightest word. His head tilted now, I observed, and blood steadily dripped from one corner of his mouth. I shifted my hand to his neck, and two fingers to the under-side of his jaw to feel for a pulse. His life was gone. I moved the same hand to his eyes to close them.
I still watched the man though for long minutes after he died. I thought over in my head whether or not I had done the right thing. Like a storm, I went over what could have happened if I let him live. Would Roma be free any more quickly? Was it freedom I sought myself? It was too late, I guessed. I slipped my hand into either side of his robes, searching for anything of use; money, blades, medicine or clues to their plot. All I found though, was a folded paper marked with a waxy red seal; that of the Assassins. Pulling it into my grip, I opened the already broken seal, and brought my eyes to the paper just barely reddened with blood, and read to myself.
"My son,
I am glad to hear that you made it back from your final mission before master hood with success, I could not be more proud of you. When you return, there will be a holding in your honor of becoming a master Assassin. I eagerly await your return to Isola Tiberina to begin your ceremony. The other recruits have already begun the decorations and preparation of food and drink.
I am proud of you, bambino.
-- Ezio Auditore."
"Proud of you... " I said to myself quietly. I had killed a son of Ezio Auditore. I could not comprehend why this death among all others tugged to eagerly at my heart. I wondered then if anyone had ever praised me; if anyone had ever been proud of my accomplishments. I folded the letter back stationary, and slipped it into a small pocket of the inside of my vest, and slipped my arm under the body to lift it respectfully, bridal. His head tilted back, but as if I held a baby, I shifted the dead man to be more comfortable. It mattered not in death, but it mattered to me that the dead be treated kindly in their defenselessness. I stood, and began my journey to escort him to his ceremony.
When finally I had arrived at Isola Timberina, I set the body seated at the entrance, and gave a quick knock at the door, before fleeing. I quickly made my way to the roof, and watched, though my orders were clear to return dead Assassini to Cesare for inspection. When the door opened, a hooded man appeared. He was much older than the boy, and dressed in black. I could only assume it was Ezio, when the man dropped to his knees and broke into heartfelt tears and drew his arms around the smaller frame. It jerked at my cold heart, but I chose my punishment to watch the heart broken father pull his son in from the rain. When the door had closed, I turned my back, and headed home.
Inside, I slipped the letter free of my vest, and headed upstairs to my room, where on the edge of my bed, I took a seat, and read the letter several times over. Each time more, my heart sank. The assassini were not cold or heartless, so I observed, like I thought myself, and the Borgia to be. I almost wished I could go back to Isola Timberina and fix the man's broken heart with an apology, but I knew the fatal result that would follow. I set the letter next to my bed on a wooden stand that held only a candle and miniature painting of my parents when I was yet to be birthed, and once more whispered to myself, to the dead assassin. ".. Requiescat in pace."
Part 2
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Thu Jul 07, 2011 6:25 am
