Marvel: Familia System

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Ezio descended the worn stone steps of the Assassin's Guild, his mind occupied with thoughts of the place he had come to understand far too well. It had been some time since he had first been inducted into this shadowy organization, a world away from the Creed he had once devoted himself to. Back in his own world, the Creed had principles—rigid, unwavering codes that guided their every move. But here, in this Guild, those principles were absent, replaced by an unsettling lack of morality replaced by endless greed and wicked. This place was rotten, corrupt to its core.

The hallways were dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners as if the very walls were hiding secrets of their own. Ezio's boots echoed softly as he walked, the sound bouncing off the cold stone. Despite the dark underbelly of this organization, he had adapted, as he always did. Survival required it. Still, every step through these halls reminded how different two seemingly same organizations could be. 

As he reached the main floor, his gaze swept over the familiar faces of the Guild members—each one a reminder of what this place truly was. Ruthless. Self-serving. The kind of people who would stab you in the back as soon as you look away. And yet, they all wore masks of camaraderie, laughing and sharing stories, pretending they weren't all waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Ezio moved through the room, nodding curtly to those who acknowledged him. He had earned a reputation here—respected by some, feared by others. It didn't matter to him. What mattered was staying one step ahead, always watching, always planning. In this world, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

As he approached the Guild's entrance, a familiar figure blocked his path—Candra, the so-called "queen" of this den of thieves and killers. Candra was a charmer, always with a sly grin and a glint in her eye that suggested she knew more than she let on. Ezio didn't trust her, but he played the game, as he always did.

Candra, or as many called her, the Red Death, flashed Ezio a smile that was as much a weapon as the daggers hidden beneath her cloak. "Ah, Ezio. It's been a while since you've taken a contract. I was starting to worry about you." Her voice was smooth, almost too smooth, dripping with a false sweetness that set Ezio's instincts on edge. She always had that way about her—playing the concerned ally while hiding her true intentions behind a mask of charm.

Ezio inclined his head slightly, keeping his expression neutral. "I appreciate the concern, Candra," he replied, his tone even. He wasn't here to fall into her games, but neither could he afford to dismiss her entirely. She held sway over this Guild, and he had a mission here—Nero had sent him to spy on this den of thieves and killers, and if the opportunity arose, to replace her. It was a delicate balance, playing the part while also keeping his distance.

"Worried you might've lost your edge, perhaps?" Candra teased, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if testing the waters of how far she could push him.

Ezio offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, more out of politeness than anything else. "The edge is still sharp. I just don't waste it on every dull contract that comes across my path." He let the words hang in the air, knowing she'd catch the underlying message. He wasn't one of her common thugs, eager to take any job that promised coin. His blade served a purpose—one that aligned with a code, even if that code had been twisted by this place.

Candra tilted her head, her smile never faltering, but Ezio could see the calculating look behind her eyes. "True enough, Ezio. But the Guild thrives on action, not hesitation. We have to keep moving, keep striking, or we risk becoming targets ourselves."

Ezio's gaze hardened slightly, though he kept his demeanor calm. "A strike made without thought is just a wild swing in the dark, Candra. It's better to make one precise cut than a hundred reckless ones." He knew she would understand the analogy, but whether she'd heed the advice was another matter.

She laughed softly, the sound almost musical. "And that's why you're so valuable to us, Ezio. Your precision, your patience. But don't forget, patience can turn into inaction, and inaction can be fatal in our line of work."

Ezio met her gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "Don't worry about me, Candra. I know when to act." He let a moment of silence pass between them, each sizing the other up, as they often did in these exchanges. It was a dance they had perfected—a careful balance of words, neither fully committing nor revealing too much.

Candra finally stepped aside, giving Ezio room to pass. "I'm sure you do, Ezio. Just remember, this Guild is like a beast—always hungry, always needing to be fed. You keep that blade of yours sharp, and you'll never go hungry."

Ezio inclined his head again, acknowledging the thinly veiled warning. "I'll keep that in mind." Without another word, he moved past her.

Ezio made his way to the bulletin board in the dimly lit hall. It struck him as oddly amusing, this primitive method of communication in a world so technologically advanced. No screens, no digital interfaces—just a simple wooden board plastered with paper contracts. In a way, it made sense. Technology could be hacked, but this... this was old-school, almost medieval. The Guild needed secrecy, and this was one way to ensure it.

But as Ezio's eyes scanned the contracts pinned to the board, any trace of amusement faded, replaced by a deep sense of revulsion. The names on those papers meant nothing to the people who posted them—just targets, obstacles to be removed. It didn't matter if the targets were guilty or innocent, powerful or defenseless. Money was all that spoke here. The contracts were nothing more than transactions, as soulless as buying fruit at the market.

One name in particular caught his eye—a young woman, barely in her twenties, accused of being a political dissident. The details were sparse, as they often were, but the price on her head was high, indicating someone in power wanted her gone. Ezio's stomach churned. She wasn't a criminal, just another voice drowned out by the powerful. He could almost hear Nero's voice in his head, reminding him of the mission, of the necessity to stay undercover. But Ezio couldn't just ignore it when it was a little lass that barely reached the age.

With a heavy sigh, Ezio pulled the contract down, folding it into his pocket. He needed to play his role, but that didn't mean he had to compromise his principles. There were ways to handle this—ways that wouldn't betray the Creed.

His eyes continued to drift over the other contracts. A rival businessman. A government official. A widow fighting to keep her land. Each name and face was a reminder of the corruption that festered here. These weren't enemies of the people, they were simply inconveniences to those with power. Each contract sickened him more than the last.

But despite the disgust gnawing at him, Ezio knew he couldn't act recklessly. He couldn't save everyone, couldn't tear the Guild apart on his own. He had to be strategic, to bide his time. That was how he'd survive here—by picking his battles, choosing his moments.

Ezio tore down another contract, this one targeting an old man accused of harboring fugitives. He crushed the paper in his fist, resisting the urge to burn it right then and there. This place... it would turn anyone into a monster if they let it.

But he wouldn't let it. Not now, not ever.

He turned away from the board, his eyes catching Candra's gaze from across the room. She was watching him, as she always did, a faint smile playing on her lips. Ezio gave her a curt nod, hiding his disdain behind a mask of indifference. He knew she was waiting for him to crack, to show weakness. But he wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

Not today.

With the contracts hidden in his cloak, Ezio moved toward the exit. Even though Nero had sent Ezio with a mission to this corrupt organization, he was still guided by principles that defined him—a creed that was unyielding. He had no hesitation in eliminating those who were truly corrupt, like the time he had taken down Harold Givens, the head of a child trafficking ring, immediately after Nero released the contract. But that didn't mean he would kill anyone just because their name appeared on the board.

The encounter with Candra had gone as he'd expected—a carefully crafted exchange where neither of them revealed their true intentions. But Ezio knew that he was different from the rest of the assassins here. He wasn't just a blade for hire, eager to spill blood for the highest bidder. His targets had to deserve it, to embody the corruption that he had sworn to fight against. The Guild didn't care about such distinctions, but Ezio did.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door leading outside, the cold air of the night hitting his face. The chill was a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the Guild. As he stepped into the darkness, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, to clear his mind.

From the moment Ezio was summoned, he knew he was in a game much grander than anything he had known before. It wasn't just the advanced technology—though even that had its limits in how much it could surprise him. After all, he'd seen the Apple of Eden, a relic from a civilization far beyond his own in both technology and ambition. But this world was different, not just in its machines but in the raw power that seemed to pulse beneath its surface. Gods walked the earth, and entities far beyond them lurked in the shadows, manipulating events in ways that made his previous life feel small in comparison.

As Ezio stepped into the night, the cold air sharpened his senses, cutting through the murk of the Guild's corruption that still clung to him. The city sprawled before him, alive with possibilities—both dangerous and promising. He adjusted his cloak, the familiar weight of his hidden blades reassuring against his wrists, and began to walk.

The streets here were far removed from the warmth of his native Florence. This city, like all cities, had its underbelly, but it was also pregnant with opportunity. Ezio's sharp eyes scanned the darkness, picking out the hidden movements of thieves, beggars, and mercenaries. They were all players in this grand game, each one a potential ally or enemy. Ezio had no illusions about where he stood among them.

Ezio soon found the quaint café he had been searching for. It was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, far from the bustling streets and prying eyes. The sign above the door was weathered, the paint chipped and faded, but that was part of its charm. It was the kind of place where people came to disappear, to blend into the shadows and let the world move around them unnoticed.

He pushed open the door, the small bell above tinkling softly as he entered. The inside was dimly lit, the soft glow of lanterns casting long shadows that danced across the wooden floor. The air was thick with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and aged leather, a scent that reminded Ezio of another time, another place.

His eyes swept the room, noting the few patrons scattered around the small tables, each lost in their own world. It didn't take him long to find the man he was looking for. In a shadowed corner sat a figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat, his features obscured as if the light itself was afraid to approach him. The man's posture was relaxed, almost too relaxed, and Ezio could feel the weight of his gaze, even though their eyes hadn't met.

Ezio moved quietly through the room, his footsteps barely making a sound on the worn floorboards. He took the seat behind the man, their backs now to each other, a small wooden divider between them. It was a setup designed for secrecy, for conversations that weren't meant to be overheard.

Without turning, the man—known to Ezio only as Nigel—spoke, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the soft murmur of the café. "How is it?"

Ezio leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the wall ahead as he considered his response. "Rotten," he said finally, his tone betraying little emotion. "The Guild is a viper's nest. Candra keeps them in line, but only just. They're more interested in gold and power than anything else."

Nigel chuckled softly, the sound devoid of humor. "Not surprising. That's what happens when you lose sight of the Creed."

Ezio's fingers drummed lightly on the arm of his chair. "She's clever, though. Too clever. She senses something, knows I'm not just another blade for hire. I've kept my cover, but it's only a matter of time before she starts probing deeper."

Nigel remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of Ezio's words settle between them. Finally, he spoke again, his tone softer this time. "You're still following the Creed, Ezio. That's more than most in this world can say."

Ezio's lips pressed into a thin line. "The Creed is what keeps me grounded. Without it, I'd be no better than them."

Nigel's hat tilted slightly, as if he was nodding. "Good. Hold onto that. Because if you lose it, she'll have you. And there's no coming back from that."

Ezio said nothing, his thoughts swirling as he stared into the shadows. He knew Nigel was right. This place—this world—was a test, one that constantly pushed him to his limits. But as long as he held onto the Creed, he could navigate the darkness without being consumed by it.

A soft rustle of fabric indicated Nigel was shifting in his seat, preparing to leave. "I'll pass your report to Nero," he said quietly. "For now, keep playing the game. But remember—when the time comes, don't hesitate."

Ezio inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the unspoken command. "I won't."

With that, Nigel rose from his seat, his presence fading into the background as if he had never been there at all. Ezio remained seated for a moment longer, his mind turning over the conversation, weighing the choices that lay ahead.

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