"Wake him," Vidic commanded.

This Altaïr moved with a stuttering, impossible grace. His steps made no sound. His body flickered with a soft, golden glow—the visual representation of infinite health. He didn't dodge. He didn't hide. He simply walked .

Vidic grabbed a syringe of muscle relaxant. "You'll delete the code, or I'll lock you in a recursive memory loop of Altaïr's birth. Over and over."

A klaxon blared. The lights flickered.

The location of a forgotten Assassin bureau in Italy. A place even Abstergo hadn't found.