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'I believe I told you once how much I loathed the water…'

The incense holder slowly swung back and forth from the chain Altair was holding as he pretended to bless the dead body of the funeral. It was such an odd thing really, considering he was an assassin. He self-consciously ducked his head to avoid seeing Ezio as he turned away from the casket. This costume was completely ridiculous, and Altair didn't understand why he had to do this when he could have just as easily slipped through the crowd and assassinated his target without so much as a disturbance amongst the cardinals and other family members.

The Basilica di San Pietro still had a few things to be finished first, but the cardinals did not seem to mind as Altair gave them a blessing of their own before they could finally leave. Ezio locked eyes with the irritated, and disguised, assassin; motioning for him to find his target.

That's right; the Italian Grand Master had challenged him with this assassination mission that he had personally decided to sit in on. Altair had scowled and demanded to know just how that would prove that he was the better assassin. If it was a killing technique contest he wanted then so be it.

Keeping an eye on the guards Altair made his way through the crowd, pushing past people with one hand to avoid stabbing them with his hidden blade. The distinctive golden glow around his target made him smirk as he shadowed the cardinal, staying out of the guards' line of sight.

Just a few more steps and they would be out of sight and in an empty hallway. It would be perfect; Altair would sneak up behind him and quickly strike before any would notice the man gone.

Finally, now was the assassin's chance. Slowly the Arabian crept up to the cardinal, hidden blade slipping out of its sheath with a near silent shing! as he raised his arm, the tip of the blade barely nicking the cardinal's neck. "Assassino! Assassino!" Altair nearly jumped out of his skin, not expecting the loud shout, or the guards that followed afterwards. "Dammit!" he cursed, shoving the blade deep into the religious man's neck before he could try and escape. After all, he had not come all the way here just to fail his first chance to prove himself.

As the cardinal fell to the ground Altair turned to face his assailants. His sharp, golden eyes narrowed as he drew his sword, taking note of how high the odds were stacked against him. There had to have been at least ten of them; three of them heavily armored and a lot bigger than the assassin was.

Altair scowled at this fact; why did everybody have to be so fucking tall in this time period? It wouldn't matter to him though, because he could still cut them down to size.
"You have nowhere to run, assassino," one of them sneered. Of course, if he wanted to Altair could have run away; there was an entire hallway behind him after all. But running away was cowardly and, 'I will not fail this chance to prove to that moron how much better I am than him,' the assassin thought to himself with a quiet growl as dragged his blade across the mocking guard's throat.

"I suggest the rest of you leave before you end up like your friend here," Altair ordered, kicking the dead body across the floor to them. This didn't seem to scare them unfortunately; it only seemed to make the guards want to fight that much harder. 'How annoying,' he thought, his irritation growing as he jumped back to avoid getting his stomach split open by the battle axe one of the big guys was carrying.
He would have to deal with that later; the ones with the daggers were the biggest problem at the moment. They were the quickest.

Altair quickly blocked two of the dagger wielding guards with his sword and used his hidden blade to stab the closest one in the stomach. Dual wielding his hidden blade worked very well in this situation, he realized with a smirk, shoving the dying man into his more alive buddy. The Arabian sidestepped to avoid another axe, making the heavier guard stumble. That would be the biggest mistake of his life. The assassin grabbed the handle of the axe and yanked on it as hard as he could, pulling the guard closer to him as well. Surprised, the armored man tried to yank the axe back but before he could Altair had already brought his sword up and rammed it right up underneath the guard's breastplate before wrenching the axe away from him.

So much for waiting to take them out until the end, he thought optimistically, spinning around the dagger wielder who had recovered enough from the shock to attempt to slash at him. Altair would have rolled his eyes at how stupid this guy was if killing him wasn't more important right then. In one smooth motion Altair's sword went through the man's back, and he knew he wouldn't have enough time to yank it free from the dying guard to face the others that still remained.

Taking out the short-blade the Arabian faced them again with that confident smirk of his. This was way too easy, he decided, slashing the final dagger wielder across the throat before he pounced on one of the bigger targets, hidden blade at the ready. He rammed the assassin tool through the 'protective' chain mail, severing the spinal cord from the guard's brain, killing him instantly.

Altair straightened up, hidden blade retracting as he glared at the last guard. "I will give you one last chance," he offered, "leave or die."

The guard bolted out of the hallway like a bat out of Hell and the assassin picked up his sword and put it back in its sheath. "At least one of them learned," he sighed, putting the short-blade away as well. He could only imagine what Ezio might say about the entire disturbance he had possibly caused. 'An assassin is supposed to kill the target and get away as quickly as possible,' he would say. 'An assassin kills their target as soon as they see them so the guards won't give them any trouble,' Ezio would continue. 'You could have compromised the Brotherhood,' with some stupid ass ending like that.

Altair scowled as he knelt over the cardinal. Why was this man so important that he needed all those guards anyway? The Italian Grand Master had not told him anything about his target that related to his Templar status, only that he needed to be taken out.
The Arabian shook his head; what was he doing questioning the "Master" like that? Those types of thoughts had lead him down the path of trouble and self-awareness at the same time. Was Ezio going to be like Al Mualim and end up betraying him? He didn't think he could stand to lose another person that he trusted so much. 'Wait a second,' Altair shook his head roughly, 'no way in hell do I trust Ezio.'

The assassin studied the cardinal more thoroughly this time. Surely there had to be something on him that they could take for information, right? He did not want to search a dead man's body since it was quite the crime against the church, maybe even Allah. There was no way he was going to dishonor himself like that, besides, had he had time earlier, he would have questioned the man about the Templars he probably worked for before killing him.

It seemed the assassins of this time also stole to get the information they needed, and Altair would have to force himself to blend in like them, even if it meant some slight disgrace. "Forgive me," he muttered to no one in particular as he patted the body down, looking for the purse. All cardinals carried those with them, and surely there would be something useful in them.

"Altair, what are you doing? I thought you'd be back at the hideout right about now," Ezio said as he knelt down on the other side of the body. "What does it look like I'm doing? You haven't told me anything about my target so I am trying to find at least some bit of information about him," the irritated assassin snapped, swatting the Italian's hands away when he tried to search the corpse as well. "And I don't need your help with that," the Arabian added as he finally sat back holding the purse in his hands.

"There is probably just money in that," Ezio informed matter-of-factly, but he was promptly ignored by his 'underling.'

Altair dumped the contents of the purse on a less bloodied portion of the floor. There were some coins but mostly it was scraps of parchment wrapped tightly with string and sealed with the Templar insignia. The assassin gave the Italian a smirk, having proved the "Master" wrong about the bag's contents.

"You know, it wouldn't have been that hard to tell me my target was a Templar agent," Altair commented pointedly, "for all I know I could have been killing an innocent man." But he knew that he hadn't because his Eagle Vision would never show a civilian as a golden target. That wasn't how the second sight worked. "Honestly, why would I send you after a civilian? That goes against the second tenant of the Creed." Ezio sounded annoyed for the first time that day, and Altair secretly took pride in the fact that he had gotten underneath the other's skin so easily.

The Arabian got to his feet, scrolls in hand, and glanced over at the pile of dead guardsmen. "We need to get out of here," he said and Ezio got up as well. "I know a way," he informed, stepping over the bodies and going over to an iron gate. "The Cardinal was going to try and make a break for it this way if you hadn't killed him in time." Altair frowned a little. Why would he head towards a dead end to get away?

"This way we will cut through the construction part of the basílica to get to the roof. After that, we should be able to find an easy way back down." Altair followed after Ezio, closing the gate behind them. He didn't know if he liked the sound of this; when Ezio had fist come up to him after the guards had been dealt with he could have sworn he heard the pit pat of rain. The assassin shuddered; he hated water in any form. Rain, snow, ice, puddles, rivers, lakes, oceans; you name it and Altair despised it with a burning passion. Back in Masyaf when he would pass a wash basin he would give it a death glare before moving on. Of course, nobody really noticed these subtle things except for Natalia and Malik.

"Come Altair, the only way down is to jump into that water below!" Ezio called out over the rain and Altair shook himself from his thoughts. When had they gotten up here? He didn't remember moving much less standing like a sopping statue out in the godforsaken rain.

The Arabian fixed the Italian with a glare. "There is no way in hell that I am going to jump into that water," he deadpanned, and the Grand Master shook his head. "Come on, you can't afford to be chicken now; more guards will surely come this way to look for us," he pointed out. "I don't give a damn; show me another way down or else you can go on your own and I'll stay here and deal with whoever shows up."

Ezio sighed heavily and moved to stand behind the fuming Altair. He didn't understand what his problem was as long as they got out of here quickly. "Hold your breath," Ezio ordered, settling his hands on Altair's back. "Just what the hell do you think you're-?!" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before the Italian shoved him off the ledge. "F-fuck!" the Arabian shouted before hitting the water and sinking under.

The Grand Master leaned over the edge, trying to get a better look to see if the time-traveling assassin had surfaced. When he didn't Ezio dove into the water as quickly as he could, grabbing the back of Altair's clothes and pulling him to the surface, hoping that he hadn't drowned. The Italian pulled him up onto the nearest ledge and rested him on his back, and before he could do anything Altair immediately rolled onto his side, throwing up water and gasping for breath.

"You…fucking…asshole," the Arabian wheezed, pushing himself to a sitting position, "why the fuck did you push me?!" "How the hell was I supposed to know you can't swim?" Ezio demanded, clearly offended that Altair had yet to thank him for saving his life. The 'younger' assassin got to his feet and refused to acknowledge the fact that his 'superior' had discovered a secret he'd been trying to keep for a while. "You know, I have only been here a day and a half and I have never hated a man so much in my entire life than I do right now," Altair growled as he doubled checked to make sure all of his weapons were still there. "I hate you so much I would like to kill you, but I won't," he continued, taking his cowl off and wringing as much of the water as he could out of the fabric. "However; the next time you push me into something as vile as water again, I will not hesitate to cut you down."

Ezio blinked at the sudden death threat. Altair's biting words had just come from nowhere and all because he couldn't swim. Who knew this legendary assassin would have such a fear of something that could do little harm to anybody? Ezio would never admit that he thought it was adorable in some way. He could only imagine what getting Altair in a bathtub would be like…

The Italian quickly shook his head to rid himself of perverted thoughts. Those he could have time for later after they found another way out of this place. Jumping down here really was a bad idea. He watched as Altair stood on unsteady legs, holding onto loose bricks in the wall to keep himself up.

"Don't just sit there; get up and help me find another way out. Preferably one that doesn't have any water," the assassin ordered, watching Ezio through narrowed eyes as he, too, finally stood. He noted with a twang of anger and jealously that the source of his hatred didn't have nearly as much trouble getting up as he had.

Today had quite literally gone down the tubes for the Middle-Eastern man, who was busy pulling at the wet fabric clinging to his skin as he walked ahead of the European. None of this would have happened if he had killed that stupid cardinal in much more timely manner so no guards would have shown up. Surprisingly, he would have picked getting drenched in a downpour walking home over jumping off a building into the ocean-like abyss. Of course, this was just him completely overdramatizing things, but it was as close to an abyss as he would have liked to come.

Ezio's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Altair, are you really going to go blindly into that darkness?" he asked, crossing his arms. Of course Ezio didn't mind the way his clothes stuck to him because he was probably used to swimming around in Satan's Kiddie Pool. Not to mention those carelessly promiscuous women would be all over him the moment they got to the Rosa en Fiore. Altair was really trying to forget that early visit they had to make in order for him to change into this ridiculous disguise.

The Arabian stared at the emptiness before him then glared over his shoulder at Ezio. "Of course not," he snapped, "do you think me a fool?" When the Master opened his mouth, Altair had fully expected Malik's irritated voice to come out of it, telling him that he was, in fact, a fool.

Instead what he got was a very calm, "I was just making sure," before Ezio stepped passed him to proceed into the darkness. Muttering under his breath and rubbing his dampened arms to at least warm them a little, Altair followed after him, using his Second Sight to keep an eye on the Italian so he didn't lose him. Being cold and lost in a dank tunnel wasn't exactly Altair's idea of a good time, second only to nearly drowning in open water where nobody would even think to rescue him. Not that he needed rescuing any other time, but the thought of being around water with people there made him feel a tad bit safer.

"Altair, do not fall behind, Carlotta and Machiavelli will skin me if you get left behind," Ezio called from a ways away, and Altair quickened his pace. "Did you find a way out?" he asked, and the Italian could have sworn he saw a spark of hopefulness in those golden orbs, but it was gone before he could study them further. "Yes," he said with a slight smile, "up ahead is a Romulus Shrine, and those always have ways out." "With less water I hope." "Always," Ezio assured, stepping into the cavern, the torches making their shadows dance on the walls.

"We will need to take all of their treasure; don't forget the one in the biggest chest either because it is the most important." The Middle-Eastern assassin frowned slightly at the thought of robbing somebody twice in one day, but set to work anyway. He didn't need Ezio holding something else over his head as well.

Altair got to the final chest before Ezio did, and the European's frustrated glare went unnoticed as the time displaced assassin opened it. There was only a simple scroll sealed with a key inside. Needless to say it was rather disappointing; the Master had made it seem like such a big deal, but it was an insignificant piece of parchment and a probably unusable key. Why would he need such things?

"Allow me to question your sanity for a moment," Altair remarked dryly, taking the items out, "but you think that these are important? Do you even know what door this key will open?"

"All you need to know is that they are important and I know what they are used for," Ezio answered, taking the scroll and key from Altair's hands in a huffy manner. The Arabian frowned. That was all he needed to know? Like hell it was! Who was he to keep secrets from a fellow assassin of the Order? His last Master had kept secrets from him and that hadn't ended so well for either of them; Al Mualim being the worse off than he.

"If coming down here was your main objective instead of the cardinal then I have the right to know why these unassuming objects are so important," Altair protested, following Ezio passed an iron gate and into another darkened passageway. "They have information about why the Followers are aligning with the Templars," he reluctantly gave in, but made sure not to give too much away. "And since you seem so interested in them, I hereby make your next couple of assignments a Romulus hunt. You will track down where the shrines are and do whatever it takes to get the treasures inside."

The outdated assassin felt his teeth grinding together in irritation. It was definitely going to be a long couple of months.

"Jesus, Altair, you're soaked to the bone!" Carlotta fussed over him as the pair stepped into the brothel. The female assassin was ordered by Machiavelli to come here and wait for their return, or in case the girls needed an escort on the streets. It was an escort that the girls would not need since they traveled in packs like wolves.

Altair shivered violently as Carlotta lead him to the bedroom he had used to get dressed in. "Your clothes should still be in there, nice and dry," she added, opening the door and allowing him in. "Thanks," he said gratefully before shutting the door and coughing nastily against his wrist. It was not a good idea to walk through the rain in already drenched clothes; the chill in the air had dropped his body temperature significantly and he wasn't used to it quite yet. They rarely had cold in his country, but when they did it was brutal and the snow storms just as horrible.

Seeing his assassin robes folded neatly on the bed as he had left them, Altair immediately shrugged off his sopping wet clothes and dumped them unceremoniously into the bathtub. He felt much lighter now that that water weight called cloth had been lifted from his shoulders, but he felt no less cold than he had been. For once he was thankful that the disguise he had worn served as a stand-in for his regular robes. Altair was certain that Ezio would have made them stay at this godforsaken place until they were dry, and he did not want to be here longer than he needed to be.

The golden-eyed assassin pulled the robes on with a soft sigh, relishing in the feeling of how warm they were. They reminded him of home, with all of the memories in every thread, every hole, and every seam. The entire outfit was a huge reminder of how unbearably homesick his was, which wasn't an emotion that Altair was particularly fond of. Longing was a weak emotion, and could be used against him if somebody played their cards right. He would not let somebody get the better of him so easily. The Arabian nodded this affirmation to himself as if it would help confirm that it would never happen in a million years. And it hadn't as far as he was concerned.

"Altair, are you done getting dressed?" It was Ezio. "Yes," Altair answered, "why? What do you need?" "We will be staying here until the rain passes." Golden orbs burned with anger and irritation. No, that wasn't the real reason why they were going to stay here for the night. The real reason was because Ezio wanted to fuck with some dumb whore.
"It's fine if you don't want to tell me the truth," Altair grit out, "but at least don't make the truth obvious." "What is that supposed to mean?" Ezio demanded, opening the door to glare at his subordinate. "It means that your main concern right now is fucking some woman who did not learn to keep her legs closed."

Ezio stalked into the room, and Altair didn't dare back down; knowing what was going to come next. A sharp smack echoed off the walls and the Arabian yanked his hood up and stared at the floor. Not because he was ashamed, mind you; Altair tended not to care for women whose legs were open to all. The slap, however, was quite the surprise. He had thought he knew what was coming, but a slap? That had thrown him off guard and dredged up a painful memory that he didn't have the intention of sticking around for to relive.
"Don't you dare talk about a woman like that again," Ezio scolded harshly and Altair's hands balled into fists, nails digging into gloves instead of skin. This man was lucky that the legendary assassin had control over his anger now, elsewise Ezio would be the one smarting and not the Arabian's cheek.

Altair glared up at him. "I will talk about whomever I please, how I please," he spat, "and you can stay here; I know my way back." Having said what he wanted, Altair shouldered past Ezio and was down the hall before the Italian could even stop him. "I'll go back with you, Altair," Carlotta said, pulling the front door open. "I do not need an escort back," he growled, stepping out into the downpour, once again drenching his clothes. This time he couldn't care less, so long as he got away from that infuriating Grand Master.

"I'm going as a friend," Carlotta corrected, and followed after the angry Arabian.

Altair lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His clothes were laid out on the writing desk and chair to dry, and he didn't mind being in his undergarments so long as he was in this room. The Arabian ran a hand down his face with a sigh, trying to sort through his thoughts and make sense of them. He didn't understand why he had gotten so pissed off at Ezio for wanting to sleep with a whore; he shouldn't give a damn about what that bastard wanted to do. Or, in this case, who he wanted to do.

Altair sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything about this time period was so damned frustrating that he didn't think he would be able to control his anger the next time the two of them got into a fight. He looked over at the writing desk filled with the sudden want to write everything out to Natalia to see if something would make sense for once.

But he couldn't, at least, not until his clothes were done drying on them. Altair wasn't the type to write things half-naked.

"Altair, are you still awake?" It was Carlotta and he couldn't help but smile. She had been nothing but nice to him since he had gotten here. Personally, the Arabian was never nice to strangers, but the times were different after all.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he answered, resting his hand on the doorknob. "Why? Did you need something?" On the other side of the door the blond assassin blushed. "Uh, no, I was just wondering if you were doing okay," she replied. "I would be a lot better if my clothes would finish drying," he admitted, leaning against the door with crossed arms. "May I come in to get them? I know a better way they can dry."

Altair debated on whether or not he should let her in. He barely had anything on as it was, but he figured it wouldn't matter if she saw him. Carlotta had probably seen other men shirtless before, but pants less as well?

Against much of his better judgment the Arabian opened the door and waved her in. "Sure," said, "anything to speed up the process. If anything seeing the foreigner in only his undergarments made her face hotter than it already was. She was rooted to the spot, unsure as to whether she should actually go inside or not. "Are you going to come in or just stand there?" Altair asked with his arms crossed once again. Carlotta shook her head and quickly stepped inside. "Sorry," she apologized sheepishly, gathering the damp clothes into her arms. "I was just a little distracted with my thoughts for a moment."

"Oh? What were you thinking about? Anything I can help you with?" The blond immediately shook her head. "No! I-I mean, no, not really. I can handle myself pretty well." Altair raised his eyebrows at the suspicious response but decided to let it go. "Are my clothes the only things that you needed?" he asked and she took a tentative step towards him. The assassin immediately felt the need to back away from her, hating the close proximity, but he forced himself to stay there, if only to see what would happen next.

What did happen next he was not expecting. Carlotta leaned up and hesitantly pressed her lips against his. The lip-lock had only lasted a few seconds before Altair turned his head away from the female assassin who doggedly admired the clothes in her arms. "R-right, well, I'll just go and dry these for you," Carlotta muttered before exiting the room. The Arabian quickly closed the door and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. What the hell had possessed her to even dare to do such a thing? To just…kiss him like that when they barely even knew each other! Now he was even more confused and irritated than before! Did that woman really like him? He felt nothing for her but friendship, having already loved once and swearing not to fall in love again.

Altair hadn't even felt the slightest bit of excitement at the contact, hated it even. He looked to the writing desk again before sitting in front of it. Maybe he would have better luck sorting things out in writing.

'Dear Natalia, I believe I told you once how much I loathed the water. The reason I bring this up is because today I was very violently re-introduced to that vile substance. While out on a mission with Ezio to prove my worth it had started raining, and frankly, I didn't really notice because I was so busy trying to show him up. I know, my ego's getting in the way again, but I would not be called anything less than I am; which is a master of the Order. Anyhow, while trying to find a way to escape, Ezio actually had the nerve to suggest that we jump off of the building and into the water. I had blatantly demanded that he find me another way around because there was no way in hell that I would ever want to touch that damned water. Do you know what he did to me? He fucking pushed me in, that's what! That asshole pushed me into the water after I told him I didn't want to go! I could've drowned because of him!

I still hate him, even if he did save me, perhaps I'll always hate him for this. Ezio was an inconsiderate bastard; he didn't even stop to ask why I didn't want to go into the water; just shoved me right in. Every time I think about it I get the strong urge to kill him. Oh, how I wish that I could!'

Altair dipped the quill into the inkwell and rubbed his forehead with his freehand. He had to stop so he could calm himself down before writing again.

'While he's inconsiderate, he is also keeping secrets from me. After we had clamored out of that godforsaken water he had come across a place that he called a Romulus Shrine. Ezio and I had set about stealing the treasure as he had instructed. I grabbed the last of the treasure, a scroll sealed with a key. He had said that it was the most important, and when I demanded to know why he brushed my question off with permanent missions. He told me that if I was so curious about the Romulus treasures that I should be the one to locate and pillage the shrines.

What an asshole. I had just asked one question and he completely evaded it. And what's worse, he brought me to a brothel. No offense to you, my friend, but I do not care much for the whores of this day. You and the other girls back home had a lot better standards than these ones, who open their legs for more than pretty words. You girls actually had purpose, but these girls do not.

I had really wanted to smack that man when he told me that he wanted to stay there. I don't know why I suddenly got pissed off when I realized that he really wanted to stay there to sleep with a whore. Instead, I was the one that got smacked because my tongue slipped.'

The quill snapped in Altair's hand and he blinked in surprise. Well, he supposed that was the end of that letter. He had been so focused on writing that he hadn't known he was really feeling the emotion of anger and the hurt from the slap. Altair really needed to stop getting distracted like this. He rose from the chair with a sigh, making a mental note to but another quill and changes of clothes in case this happened next time.

The assassin flopped down onto his bed with a frustrated groan, burying his face in the pillow as he tried to catch some uneasy rest.

'Natalia, I hope to make sense of this place soon.'