Italy

4,020 years since initial death
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"Steady."

The wind breezed by calmly, gently carrying the fallen leaves that scattered the green field. The target remained stationary in the distance, allowing the shot to be lined up easier.

"Raise your elbow higher."

A neighing horse broke the silence, but it didn't distract her. There was more than enough time to concentrate and land a direct hit. Time was of no essence.

"Don't forget to breathe, take in the air."

It was as if the world had come to a complete stop. Everything was frozen in place and silenced. Everything but the calm wind.

"Careful not to hesitate, find the right angle and pull your finger back."

The shot was on target, striking it directly in the torso. Seventeen-year-old Kara was pleased with her effort. Although she was hoping to land a headshot, it was still an improvement over her last shot that had completely missed the target. She pulled the bolt out of the dummy she used as a target, some straw fell out of it but it remained standing.

Marco patted her on the shoulder. As an adult herself, she now stood nearly as tall as him. He couldn't help but smile, realizing just how familiar all of this had been. They headed back inside their house from the backyard. Training was over.

Kara placed her father's crossbow on a nearby desk. The crossbow was specially designed for Marco before he left the Republic of Florence in 1500 accompanied by three others.

Their home was located outside the walls of Venice, northeast in Le Vignole. It provided plenty of space for target practice, gardening, and enjoying the view of the Adriatic Sea. Marco and Kara returned to the dining room, where the household's mother, Livia, awaited them. She had already prepared a meal for the both of them. It was part of their daily routine, she took care of the household while Marco was responsible for paying the bills and keeping the family together.

He was still getting used to it after living differently for hundreds of years. Even when he lived with Violet, she helped him take care of everything. But having a child again seemed to make living more difficult, considering they were already short on florins, the currency of their time.

"Baccala' mantecato." Livia snapped him back to reality. "Just the way you like it." Creamed cod served over a bed of rice, it was a meal he often enjoyed especially when made fresh. Even his daughter liked it, but Livia preferred the moleche frite, the fried soft-shelled crab.

It was a favorite family tradition, fish on every Friday. Bought fresh from the market in the busy city of Venice, it was mildly expensive, but worth it to keep their tradition. Life in Italy was definitely peaceful. While it proved to be difficult to become financially stable, the culture helped ease their troubles. It was seen as a break from the Middle Ages, to live here in the moment, during a period that would eventually be known as the Renaissance.

However, not all aspects of life here were peaceful. Only the upper class lived comfortably, as the economy was completely unbalanced. The government watched over its citizens, patrols marched down cities, and it became a period of suffering for the poor. Marco was able to manage for some time, but he had to work under a low profile. It was because of the House of Borgia, they were the main reason he had to move away from Florence in the first place.

The Borgias virtually controlled Europe, taking part in political affairs, and even producing two popes; most notably, Alexander IV. Ever since Marco got involved in politics, he had already made several enemies from the Borgia family. His old rival from Florence was the illegitimate son of Pope Alexander IV, named Cesare Borgia. What started off as disagreements in certain laws turned violent, that threatened Marco's family.

Cesare was appointed commander of the papal armies and even led his own Italian mercenaries. He was slowly becoming the most powerful man in Italia. Anyone who opposed him would either disappear or be found dead in their homes. Marco had threatened him with nothing but a wrathful vengeance if he ever tried to hurt him or his family.

Marco however never told Livia the truth about Cesare. As far as she's aware, her husband is never in danger. He's a role model citizen, someone who lives a peaceful and ordinary life while avoiding trouble. If she knew his head was wanted by the most notorious Italian mafia in the Renaissance; she'd leave him in a heartbeat for the safety of her family.

As expected, Cesare took this as a challenge.

The following days for Marco were spent inside Venice's walls, working at a warehouse by the docks. He would arrive by taking his personal rowboat. Some might consider it to be tedious to row to work on a daily basis, but he rather enjoyed it. It was always so quiet out in sea, it allowed him to rest his mind.

Only a few workers were there with him at the warehouse, carrying crates and packing lumber. It paid well, but not as much as he had hoped. He had wanted to become a banker, or even an instructor.

Teaching archery or sword-fighting is something he would excel at. But something didn't seem right. He wants a peaceful life with his new family, to avoid further struggles and battles. Becoming an instructor and teaching Italia's youth how to murder and fight in wars feels somewhat haunting. Almost as if he's still continuing the fight, he's just trying to avoid the responsibility.

However, it became the least of his worries soon enough. While he worked, he had noticed it was awfully quiet in the warehouse. Usually his co-workers were very talkative. Furthermore, the warehouse doors were left closed, something that was uncommon around here. They were left opened for the convenience alone.

Marco couldn't help but feel he was being watched. He carried some lumber in his arms, dropping a few to the ground as he stood completely still. His eyes closed. He needed to rely on his ears instead. Just in the distance, he heard some footsteps approach him slowly.

"Let me guess." Marco spoke loudly. His eyes opened, but he never turned around. He continued to grip the final wooden log in his hands. It was slightly heavy, but that wouldn't be an issue for him. "Cesare Borgia sent you."

The moment he said it, the footsteps became louder and faster. Marco turned and swung the heavy log of lumber in front of him, knocking an armed man down to the ground. He dropped the heavy log over the fallen soldier's head, crushing him dead in the process.

Marco turned to face the rest. Several more mercenaries revealed their positions and stood with their swords drawn. One of them even carried a double-bladed axe.

It was safe to say this fight would end only one way. There were six heavily armed men and one unarmed worker. Clearly, the odds were in the worker's favor.

"I'll make this clear for all of you," he said with confidence and pride, loud enough for everyone to hear him, "only one man is leaving this warehouse alive. Attacking me here and now means you know where I work, but not where I live. I intend to keep things that way. Know that if my family is ever threatened; you will never be heard from again, just like your friend here."

He looked beneath him at the head he squished with the wooden log. There wasn't even any hesitation or remorse in his actions.

As expected, this accomplished nothing. Despite how menacing and confident he sounded, he would soon learn just how equally terrifying Cesare would be. Everyone charged forwards, eager to eliminate their target.

Marco easily dodged the amateur sword swings coming from one opponent, giving him a chance to grab his arms. In a quick succession, he dislocated his shoulder. With the man's sword dropped, Marco grabbed it and stabbed it directly through him without hesitation.

Just as he did it, the large mercenary with the axe raised his weapon. It was his last mistake. Due to his heavy armor and weapon of choice, he was incredibly slow. Marco ran towards him, dropping to the floor and sliding beside him. Before the merc's axe had even struck the ground, he was slashed in the knee, his weakest point. Unable to stand, he collapsed to the floor.

But the mercenary wasn't finished. Struggling to stand, he tried to grab Marco with his bare hands and crush his skull with brute strength. However, the mad Immortal wasn't allowing that to happen. He resisted the soldier's attempts to firmly grasp his head, turning the tables by locking him in a chokehold.

Marco dragged the heavy man towards the closest conveyer-belt, shoving him onto it. He turned the mercenary's legs towards the backside of the belt and quickly tied his limbs to the machine. No one attacked Marco when they saw him grab a wooden wheel attached to the machinery behind him.

"How about a new offer?" He smugly said, keeping his hand on the wheel. "You can leave with your lives still intact. Report your failure to Cesare, and let him know that Marco Settini lives. Do it, and this man here won't suffer."

Suddenly, he spun the wheel, revealing a massive and incredibly sharp vertical-saw swiftly begin to move up and down repeatedly. Furthermore, the wooden conveyor began to slide forward, causing the fallen mercenary to get dragged along with his spread legs aimed for the saw.

"It's a horrifying way to die painfully, but you can spare your ally this fate by turning away now!" He continued to persuade his attackers to turn back. "If you even dare make a move against me, he will be severed in half up to his head. As for all of you, you'll meet a similar fate if you choose to continue the duel."

Now, Marco had their attention. Only four of them remained and they were rightfully cautious. They didn't know how to respond. Although one thing was certain. None of them had the guts to do as he said, for they know what consequences await them if Cesare learns they couldn't kill one single man. In a twisted turn of events, all four combatants made the decision that facing Cesare wasn't worth it. They would choose to die here, rather than later by their own employer.

Marco was already quick to notice they made up their minds. He let out a minor sigh as he spun the wheel harder this time. The mercenary atop the belt attempted to escape, but was unable to untie himself as he slowly approached his impending doom. His cries for help only added to the tense atmosphere and the horrors that Marco was willing to display.

All four of his attackers sprinted towards him at once. Marco had turned back around, leaping over a few crates as they chased after him. One of them attempted to untie their ally from the belt as it came to a stop.

Marco had ran around all of them, using his surroundings to his advantage as he vaulted over other obstacles in the way. His goal was simple. The large mercenary he held hostage had dropped his battle-axe beforehand. Once Marco had reached it, he was able to turn the tides of the battle.

He swung his axe to the side without looking, knowing his attackers were still close. The swing narrowly missed one of the men, but successfully knocked the sword out of his hand. The other two who reached him attempted to stab him directly, but they underestimated his speed.

Marco's axe was still in motion from his last swing, eventually striking one of the men in the abdomen. With only one mercenary still armed, this fight was quickly coming to an end. In one swift concession, Marco rolled to the floor and picked up a sword dropped from one of the fallen men.

He twirled his sword around, frightening the mercenary as he only stepped back with his sword drawn. However, his eyes could never keep up. Instantly, Marco slashed his blade at his legs, knocking the man to the floor. With one more swing, his throat was slit.

Looking back at the saw, he noticed one of the soldiers almost untying the other out of the machine. There was no hesitation in his actions. He grabbed the battle-axe from the floor again and charged forward with all his might.

The soldier barely had time to turn his head when he was executed. Marco's axe was swung from behind with vigorous speeds, enough to brutally decapitate the man. He gritted his teeth and kept his rage as he approached the large merc.

"Some friends you have." He sarcastically mocked his dead allies as he placed a hand over the wheel. "Don't blame me when you reach the afterlife. They chose your fate."

Spinning the wheel with immense power, the mercenary was brought closer to the vertical-saw. His pleads for mercy and horrifying screams changed nothing. Marco was watching him with excitement.

From the distance, only one soldier remained. He stood in fear, witnessing the cruel torture that unfolded before him.

It was a total nightmare. Not only could he see it, but he could hear the agonizing torment that was a clear result of it. The mercenary was sawed directly in between the legs, slowing cutting through his torso, right up alongside his spine and tracing across his neck.

Marco's eyes had closed near the end, choosing to focus more on listening. By now, the screaming had come to an end. All that was left to hear was the constant rocking of the saw and the splatter of blood and organs.

Suddenly, it all stopped. He let go of the wheel, poking his head around the conveyer. The mercenary was gone. All that remained was a gruesome scene of gore that stained the saw, belt and wooden floorboards.

After taking a few calm breaths, Marco turned back around only to notice the one surviving Borgia merc still alive. Instead of continuing the fight, no one moved.

"I forgot I left one of you." Marco spoke, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Look, everyone's dead. Why don't you just pick up your sword and stab yourself with it? I can't be bothered to fight any longer. Just do it yourself, or leave. Leave this place and return to Cesare, or maybe leave the country altogether."

Marco cleaned some blood off of his hands with a nearby handkerchief laying around. He was majorly annoyed by these circumstances. "Hurry it up and make your choice. Live or die, I really do not care."

"You don't understand who you're facing." The mercenary spoke, shaking his head in the process. His eyes darted towards a nearby sword on the floor. His fingers began to twitch. "The Borgia will stop at nothing until the heads of their enemies are in their hands. Cesare will never cease from his commitment to mark your name off his list. But if you expect me to return to him empty handed, you truly are a fool."

Marco let out an exhausted laugh, pointing a finger at him in the process. "You really were predetermined to die here today, weren't you?"

"Cesare has an army." The mercenary had picked up the nearest sword, but rather than fighting, he stayed back.

"And I massacre armies." The Immortal's expression changed towards a more sinister tone when he responded.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Marco watched as the merc observed his own sword, his hands shaking with fear.

"Come on, do it already. You have so much to die for!"

"I used to think of Cesare as the devil." The lone soldier said softly, glaring at the Immortal ahead. "I only agreed to the contract for the coin, but now I see why he wanted you dead."

Pointing back at him, he continued. "You are the devil."

"Tell me something I don't know." Marco walked off, tossing his handkerchief to the side. Silence plagued the warehouse once again, leaving the lone mercenary with nothing but his thoughts as he finally made up his mind.

All Marco heard was the tumble of one last body, and he knew exactly what had happened.

By the time the city guards had discovered the scene in the warehouse, Marco was already gone. Just as he said, only one man had left the warehouse alive. His family's safety was his number one concern.

He knows just how inhuman and barbaric he was in the warehouse. But when it comes to the safety of his loved ones, he simply doesn't care what he has to do and who has to die. Nobody could take them away from him. Fortunately, Cesare had no clue of where his actual home was, only believing he resided somewhere within Venice.

But Marco had to wonder just how powerful Cesare may be if his hired thugs would choose death over failure. What sort of man is he to inflict so much fear into the hearts of his own allies?

It was only a matter of time before his questions were answered.

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Historical Notes:

Men are considered adults when they reach the age of 21. Women on the other hand are considered adults by 14 if they're married, or at 16 if they're still single.

The city of Florence is the birthplace of the Renaissance. Some speculate it dates back as early as 1265 AD. It would come to an end within the early 17th century.

Venice had reached its peak in the late 13th century. With over 36,000 sailors and 3,300 ships, it was amongst the most powerful, wealthiest and prosperous cities in all of Europe.

The Byzantine Empire was aided by Venice, as ships from the city often traded with the Empire and supported it during the Battle of Constantinople. However, this proved to be a mistake. The Ottoman Empire brought forth the fall of Constantinople, that later threatened Venice and started the city's decline from power.

Cesare Borgia

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