You’d been part of the Borgia for a long time, grown into an executioner of the Borgia over the years. You were guarding the prisoners tonight as you walked past a cage in the dungeons. Inside was a large man strung up. His arms spread out and his chest is bare, covered in cuts and tears from the whips.

He looked stone cold, his dark hair covering his face and his body was stiff. It was cold, and the cold water from the leaking ceiling slowly dripped off the shackled man. His name is Ezio.