1888, London

"Please... Please don't kill me! I didn't do anything to hurt anyone!" cried a nobleman as he lay on the ground, beaten, nearly to death, by a group of thugs in an alley.

A sinister voice chuckled at this comment and said, "Of course not. But you do have an idea of where the Apple of Eden is. We have no choice but to... take this information from you. Harshly."

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." muttered the poor man. This did not satisfy the figure before him. The mysterious, hooded man snapped his fingers, and one of the thugs kicked the nobleman harshly. The poor man started to cough up blood.

"I will ask you once again... Where. Is. The Apple of Eden?" the sinister voice calmly asked.

"I don't know!" the nobleman shouted.

"Hm. I guess we'll have to kill you after all," the other man said with a smirk on his face. He gave the signal, and the thugs started coming towards the nobleman with daggers and cutting instruments.

"No... No, please! Don't kill me! I beg of you! NOOOOOO!"

But it was too late. Blood splattered in the alley, and the body of the nobleman grew cold as a pool of scarlet liquid formed around him. With all the stab wounds given to the poor victim, it was enough to give even Julius Caesar's assassination a run for its money.

"Search his body," commanded the mysterious man. The thugs searched the nobleman's body, and found an insignia burned onto his finger. This insignia was hidden under the nobleman's signet ring bearing his family's coat of arms.

"He's an Assassin," one of the thugs indicated.

"Hm. I figured he wouldn't have revealed anything about that Apple... Did you find anything else on him?" remarked the man.

The thugs continued to search the body until they found a small notebook bound by red leather and a red ribbon.

"What's this?" muttered the man as he snatched the notebook from the thugs. He opened up the small booklet, looking through note after pointless note until he came across some sketches of a spherical object, notes about this object, and translations for some sort of important document discussing the Apple of Eden. The conspirator smiled upon seeing this and tucked the notebook into his inner coat pocket.

"So he doesn't have the Apple, then?" one of the thugs asked, disappointed that there was nothing else useful to loot from the cold body before them.

"No," replied their leader, "but we know that he's been doing his research on the properties of this powerful, fascinating treasure."

"What do we do with the body?"

"Hide it in the corner there. Hide any evidence pointing to us. Put that signet ring over the insignia on his finger. We mustn't let anyone know of our doings here. And if that bloody Guard Dog starts sniffing around these murders, make sure that his trail ends here." With that, the man casually walked out of the alleyway and into the all too quiet night, leaving his thugs to take care of business.