It is a good life we lead, brother.
The best. May it never change.
And may it never change us.
~Ezio &Federico Auditore da Firenze
~La Dolce Vita~
1
CROISSANTS
“SEAN!!”
“Fucking HELL Miles!” “Where’s the bloody fire?! And do you WANT the Templars to turn up at 10 for tea because, shit, they can probably bloody HEAR you all the way from their fortress of Mild Totalitarian Evil in Hawaii or wherever.”
“You are a very weird man.”
“No, just British.”
“Whatever, I don’t have time for your- UGH. I was going through some of Ezio’s old memories- y’know, the burial files-”
“Auditore AGAIN?” “You queer for him or something? Fancy some mature Italian sausage? Because I’m pretty sure our little Super Ezio 64 is getting on a bit by now.”
“Huh?”
“Nintendo joke? Mario games? Italian plumber? Gay for his brother? No? Jesus, didn’t they have video gaming in your little we-like-to-jump-out-of-random-inanimate-objects-and-stab-people-in-their-ears enclave?”
“You know I don’t like talking about that.” “And for your information, assassins are Playstation people. Better graphics for, y’know, Prince of Persia and stuff.”
“Ah. Pissing about on ancient rooftops and periodically faceplanting into walls of spiky doom. Bet they can relate.”
I’ve been considering setting up a rival company to those French Ubisoft twats. I think I’ll call it ‘Webehard.’ Geddit?! Youbesoft, Ubisoft, Webe- ugh, forget it. Philistines.
“Uh-huh.” “Wait, you’ve DISTRACTED me again!”
“Mm. And I haven’t even waved my cock at you yet.”
“ARRRGH!”
“Did you WANT something? And if it isn’t sex then piss off, I’m working.”
“Surfing Wikipedia is work?!”
“IT’S VALID SOURCE MATERIAL!”
“It is NOT- look, forget that, and shut-up, just for one freaking minute, ok?” “Right. Ok. As I was saying, I was going through some of Ezio’s old memories, and I found...” “well I thought I misheard at first, because it’s just...” “Impossible.”
“I like impossible.” “Show me what you’ve got, Miles.”
“This is impossible.”
“I know.”
“No, it’s ACTUALLY impossible! This isn’t a record you can just TAMPER with, memories are memories, history is history! He can’t- there’s just no way. Even if somebody, I don’t know, your long lost evil TWIN ever accessed- what’s his name...?”
“Federico.”
“Frederico, whatever. Even if somebody accessed and buggered up his memories, these stiffs are DEAD. In the past. We’re in the future. We see them. They can’t see us. We don’t CHANGE anything, we can’t.”
“Then how do you explain that?”
“I don’t know.” “Animus malfunction, maybe. The eagle vision, fine, ok, he was an assassin prodigy or some crap, but- the-”
“Impossible.”
“Yeah.”
“We could-”
“No, we couldn’t.” “I know what you’re thinking, and no.” “We just don’t pick any ascendant at random, Desmond. We play safe. Pick the relatives of the closest genetic match.”
“Federico was Ezio’s brother! His DNA can’t be that different.”
“Perhaps not.” “But it’s not just about that. Look here.” “Here’s you, here’s Altair, he of the personality of a comatose sponge. And here’s Ezio.” “Notice anything?”
“We all look kinda the same.”
“Exactly, would you like a scone?” “No, mine. Anyway. All your nodal points- SORRY, heads, shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes, to you, moron. You fit in their bodies well, it’s not a stretch. You can move them without too much mental strain, like riding in a puppet.”
“...sounds dirty.” “Sorry. I’m listening, honest.”
“Freddyrico was 6 feet tall. You and Ezio are-were- ARE 5”10. He’s more lithe. His stature is all wrong. Especially his legs and torso. You won’t FIT. Your nose would poke out where his chin is. He took after his Papa, all light browns, which is the WRONG side for lineage. The one that didn’t descend from Altair and his harem.”
“...you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you.”
“Yup.”
“FINE.” “Rock him like a hurricane, you perverted weirdo.” “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” “Buckle up, and get on intoooooo...Big Bro Auditore.”
~Firenze, 1476~
“Oh, I shouldn’t worry about catching the plague, pulcino. I imagine the plague is more concerned that it shall catch YOU!”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?!”
“It means you STINK, little brother. And how are the bad humours supposed to take hold when you are already in such bad humour, eh?”
“At least I do not bathe in rose petals, like some effeminate, pretty-boy, smooth-faced-“
“...whose arse was mistaken for Claudia’s at the last masquerade, again?”
“ARGH!”
“What was it Francesco said...? Something about kneading the rosy complexion of your supple cheeks?”
“That was NOT what he- I hate you!”
“I know, baby brother, I know.” “Now get that look off your face lest the wind change, you look like a crone who swallowed a lemon then stepped in horseshit.”
“Where did she get the lemon?”
“Does that really matter?! It’s a METAPHOR.”
“It’s a stupid one.”
“YOU’RE stupid.”
“No, you are!”
“You!”
“YOU!”
“ENOUGH!” “I will NOT have my reputation sullied by you pair of idiotic, bullheaded MISCREANTS!”
“Oh yes, because hitching up one’s skirts and kicking one’s beloved and long-suffering elder brothers into a water trough and concussing them is SO ladylike, Claudia.” “Your stockings are showing.”
“EEK!” “Monstro!”
“HA! I only lost two squares!”
“Eh?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine a little box of squares above my head that empty everytime I get punched in the gut.”
“I think you’ve been punched in the HEAD too many times, brother.”
“This is impossible.”
“Will you shut up and listen?!”
“And when I drink medicine, it glows and then people all get these pretty colourful outlines around them!”
“...what?!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“SEAN!”
“Mmhm! Arseholes are red, arseholes that aren’t paying attention are yellow, and boring people are white!”
“Federico.” “Have you been smoking opium again?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well don’t!” “Remember Carlos? What if-”
“Your elder brother is not a fool, Ezio.” “I will never leave you. Never.”
“Fag.”
“Gay as the first flowers in Spring, amigo!” “But I generously distribute myself among the fairer sex, also. I would not want to deprive them of a man of true...stature.”
“Fottiti!” “Distribute, eh? So what you’re saying, brother, is that you SPREAD yourself for anyone- OW! BASTARDO!”
“Such language!” “I swoon! Ah, dios!”
“...carogna.”
(settles on Rico without question- glad, like a growing child shies and wriggles away often)
“Rico.”
(nicknames, fiddi, rico, coco, ricci, from babyhood)
“Mmmmmmm?” “Do not think so hard, pulcino, you will hurt your poor pea of a brain.”
“You look tired.”
“Escapades such as mine-”
“You do not HAVE escapades.” “I talked to Adriana.” (goes to roll away) “I hear you and Father talking! I hear you-”
“You hear nothing.”
“Brother-”
“You. Hear. Nothing.”
“I think that’s enough joyriding for now, Miles, your vitals are dipping. Get the piss outta dodge before MUMMY comes back and smacks your bottom.”
~~~
“This is impossible.”
“Maybe not.” “I have an idea.”
“Did it hurt? Aww, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Madonna. Spit it out.”
“What if he touched a piece of Eden?”
“Miles.” “Did the Templars touch YOU in a bad place? Because you’ve gone loopy.”
“No! Look, that...the One Who Came Before, after Ezio killed the Pope-”
“You mean heinously FAILED to kill the Pope.” “I mean seriously. All that effort, all those dead officials, and he can’t even stick a sharp thing in a fat guy? It wasn’t like Borgia was a SMALL target! But noooo he had to play FISTICUFFS with him and punch him to death.” “Plus, your strategy of knocking him on his arse then kicking him repeatedly in the groin, though amusing, didn’t exactly get the job done quickly. Just saying. Fifty million knives and poisons and deadly shit on you, and you decide to kick him in the dick. Do we need to have a talk?”
Still, if he hadn’t been such a ginormous twat there wouldn’t be a third game. Oops, did I just break the fourth wall’s fourth wall? Shocking!
“I. Am. Ignoring. You.” “The One That Came Before mentioned me, my name. To Ezio. In the past. So obviously time and space, it doesn’t apply to them. And the pieces of Eden are like, their magic 8-balls, or something.” “Right?”
“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you COULD be onto something, Miles.” “Problem is, how the Hell would Auditore’s airhead brother get his hands on a piece of EDEN?! In case you didn’t notice, his promising career in dickism was cut tragically short.”
“I remember.” “And don’t talk about him like that. He wasn’t- it was an ACT. He was good, he was kind, he-” “What do we know about Frederico?”
“Crud all, really.” “Let’s see. Frederico Auditore da Firenze. He was the eldest, three years older than our main man. Bit of a character, from all your arsing about we know he was smart, smarter than Ezio back then, beat him at chess, quick-witted, blah blah. We reckon he was already being trained to be an assassin- I mean, he was the one who taught lil bro how to free-run like a ninja. And pick up broads.” “He worked in a Medici bank for a while but got laid-off for being a slacker and sticking money on the roof.”
“Aaaaand, as you know, he got it in the neck soon after-” “Yeah.”
“Rodrigo Borgia said...” “there was no reason to kill them. Him or Petruccio. He was just making a POINT.” “A damn POINT! If you-” “they were good people. If ever I need to remember why we’re the good guys, I think of them.”
“Lad.” “You’ve got to stop getting so involved in this.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Point is, no way he touched a piece of Eden. He died. Dead. Kaput. Doornailed. No way around it.” “There’s a reason for this fuck-up, and I’ll find it. Might be the Templar’s shitting us about.”
“How do we know?”
“Excuse me?”
“That he died.”
“Uhhhm...bonjour?” “Ezio BURNED the bodies.”
“He didn’t watch them burn.” “He couldn’t.”
“They weren’t BREATHING!”
“Ezio didn’t check.”
“ARGH! You deluded TWIT. Face it, they DIED! You’re not HIM, stop getting so pent up about it!”
“I HAVE TO KNOW!”
“You can’t stick with him.” “We’ve never tried putting a subject- shit, I sound like them- putting someone through a DEATH in the Animus. Whatever happened, the stresses wouldn’t end in anything good.”
“What if he didn’t die?”
“Sweet Fanny Adams, Miles...” “Like a guppy with a friggin’ bone.” “Fine. You’ve been through it once, I’ve got the memory bank downloaded...” “Wait.” “What-”
“What is it?!”
“Look. Here’s the last memory: the execution.”
“That’s the second last memory.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s that black stuff?”
“I don’t know. It looks like something...corrupted the stream. I don’t...I’ve seen this before. Somewhere. If I can just-”
“Put me back under.”
“Miles-”
“If there’s another memory...” “Federico survived the execution.” “I have to know.”
“You mean Ezio has to know.” “Lad, if...” “If he burned-”
“I have to know.”
“Shit.” “Fine. Alright. Fuck.”
This is BAD, Hastings. This is A-grade crazy. Bonkers. Nuts. Insane. Not like I care if Miles kicks the ol’ bucket, but...shit. Damn the ruggedly-handsome wanker and his stupid puppy eyes. Damn him for being RIGHT.
Because we have to know.
~tbc~
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