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 Posted: Fri May 21, 2010 6:43 pm
 Wikipedia The Papal Basilica of St Paul Outside the Walls (Italian: Basilica Papale di San Paolo fuori le Mura), commonly known as St Paul-without-the-Walls, is one of four churches that are the great ancient major basilicas or papal basilicas of Rome: the basilicas of St. John Lateran, St. Mary Major, and St. Peter's and Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Archbishop Francesco Monterisi, named in 2009, is the current archpriest of this basilica.
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Posted: Sat Jun 12, 2010 9:44 pm
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXRomanov De LucaXXXXBUT ALL'S TOO WEAK FOR HIM
XXXXDISDAINING FORTUNE WITH HIS BRANDISHED STEEL
XXXXWHICH SMOKED FROM BLOODY EXECUTION
XXXXLIKE VALOUR'S MINION CARVED OUT HIS PASSAGE The Solemn JesterXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXTILL HE FACED THE SLAVEXXXX
WHICH NE'ER SHOOK HANDS NOR BADE FAREWELL TO HIMXXXX
TILL HE UNSEAMED HIM FROM THE NAVE TO TH'CHAPSXXXX
AND FIXED HIS HEAD UPON THE BATTLEMENTSXXXX B rank // Flame Power: 62 // Agility: 25 // Power: 4 // Stamina: 10 // Resistance: 11  The Basilica of Saint Paul was a holy place to many, being an ancient church that has collapsed, save for its front wall and the statue of Saint Paul outside. Romanov stood in front of the church for some time, admiring the construction of this ancient church. He could never understand how people could spend hours and hours staring at a piece of architecture, or a painting, admiring it in silence. What WAS there to admire about a concrete building, apart from the cracks one sees as a sign of decay and old age? He had often heard of people gaining becoming enlightened just by staring at a holy piece of art, or people gaining inspiration from a piece of random artwork that was supposed to be touched by the hands of God. What stupid people, to be so moved by a piece of…of thing, that someone scribbled on and dabbed paint on it. Romanov could never understand their motives, and to him, real artwork was when he slashes up the bodies of others, making their red vital blood spill out in torrents out of their bodies. It never ceased to amaze Romanov just how much liquid a human body could hold, or just how much blood could flow out of a person’s body before they died. He was in total control when he took a life: he could make it quick and painless, ending their lives with mercy and pity. On the other hand, he could drag it on and prolong their pain and suffering, watching as their faces contorted with terror and horror. A wicked grin would then be etched on Romanov’s face as he watched his victims’ faces contorting with agony and pain. Their screams of terror were music to his ears, and he would then move in closer with his knives dripping with their own blood. He would then have a gleeful grin on his wicked face as he flicked out his tongue, licking off the blood stained on his steel knives and watching as his victims’ faces changed from terror to shock at their tormentor. Oh, how he enjoyed their changes of expression as they watched their tormentor getting more and more crazed by the second.
Romanov smiled as he tapped the statue of Saint Paul with one hand, ignoring the curious stares that he earned from nearby bystanders. Let them stare! They thought he was different, and indeed he was. He was a killing machine, taking lives without giving a second thought, and to him, it was as easy and natural as breathing, or even moving an arm or finger. With one slash of his knives, he could put a long jagged scratch on the statue of Saint Paul, a mar that would remain with the statue for years on. With one small kick of his foot, he could shatter the statue into tiny pieces. He held power, and with this power he could use it however he wanted. He could harm, terrorise, as well as horrify anyone of his choice.
”Fermata proprio lì, ragazzo, cosa pensate che state facendo? La statua di San Paolo è di proprietà pubblica, non sei autorizzato a toccare o danneggiare in alcun modo.”
A gruff voice sounded behind Romanov, and he turned around to see who was addressing him in such a crude manner. He saw a big and muscular policeman, tipping his police helmet as though thinking that it held great importance. Romanov smiled at the sight, an innocent smile that never failed to bring forth sympathy or pity from everyone who saw him. Not this man though. The policeman continued to glare at him furiously through slitted eyes, evidently angry at the carefree boy who even dared to touch the sacred statue of Saint Paul.
”Mi dispiace molto, signore, ma non riesco a vedere che sto facendo del male a tutti. Mi stai dicendo che è vietato toccare anche la statua di San Paolo? Ho pensato che fosse chiamata "santa" per un motivo, questo è tutto.”
Romanov smiled and spoke in a honey sweet voice, with his hand still on the statue. The policeman narrowed his eyes even further, and Romanov could not help but feel amazed that his eyes could still narrow further.
”No, non è permesso. Ora sporcarsi le mani fuori la statua sacra, o sarò costretto a trattenervi, giovanotto.”
”Oh? E se non lo faccio, mister?”
”Tu ragazzo sfacciato! Io vi insegnerà una lezione da non dimenticare, in questo momento!”
The burly policeman moved quickly towards Romanov, his hands outstretched as he tried to grab the young boy by his shoulders. Romanov, as he saw this coming, quickly swerved and turned his body to one side, letting the policeman’s hand slip past him harmlessly. From this close, their bodies were almost touching, and Romanov could have sworn that he saw the policeman’s eyes widen. As though in slow motion, he watched as the policeman swung his hand towards his face, to give him a sound slap. Again, with the same thing as before, Romanov leaned backwards as though he was a dancer, his back arching gracefully as he neatly dodged the slap.
”Mi dispiace signore, ma io non sono il tipo di ragazzo normale che si vede per le strade ogni giorno. No. .. io sono molto più diverse, come lei avrebbe dovuto rendersi conto prima.”
”Oh voi poco – “
The policeman got no further in whatever insult he was going to throw into Romanov’s face as a fist thundered into his stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He gagged as Romanov’s fist dug deeper into his stomach, eventually hooking upwards into the diaphragm, rendering him unable to breathe. There was no expression on Romanov’s face, but only glee and joy were written in his eyes. The glee of being able to take a life with no mercy.
”Oggi è il tuo giorno sfortunato, poliziotto. Non sarà in grado di trattenermi, e oggi sarà il tuo ultimo giorno come un poliziotto.”
Romanov leaned down and whispered into the policeman’s ears, feeling the burly man shake in his hands. With his free hand, he stretched it out and grabbed the policeman by the throat, squeezing harder and harder. He was lucky that they were behind the statue right now, as they were hidden from view and there was no one watching the cold hearted and gruesome killing. Romanov’s fingers tightened more and more, until the policeman gagged, slumped and breathed no more. Gingerly, Romanov set him on the ground, kicking the body an ungracious kick with one foot as he rolled the burly man over. Another site, another kill. Sometimes, he felt as though he was a magnet of great attraction, attracting trouble from afar. cards dealt: 1123▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ 
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Posted: Wed Jun 23, 2010 8:45 am
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀ XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXRomanov De LucaXXXXBUT ALL'S TOO WEAK FOR HIM
XXXXDISDAINING FORTUNE WITH HIS BRANDISHED STEEL
XXXXWHICH SMOKED FROM BLOODY EXECUTION
XXXXLIKE VALOUR'S MINION CARVED OUT HIS PASSAGEThe Solemn JesterXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXTILL HE FACED THE SLAVEXXXX
WHICH NE'ER SHOOK HANDS NOR BADE FAREWELL TO HIMXXXX
TILL HE UNSEAMED HIM FROM THE NAVE TO TH'CHAPSXXXX
AND FIXED HIS HEAD UPON THE BATTLEMENTSXXXX B rank // Flame Power: 62 // Agility: 25 // Power: 4 // Stamina: 10 // Resistance: 11 The sudden vibration of his cell phone in his expensive fur lined jacket pocket woke Romanov out of his trance, snapping him awake. Who would call me at this time? No one knows my number. Romanov thought quizzically as he withdrew his iPhone from his fur lined jacket pocket. He looked at the caller’s ID: private caller. What a surprise. Fearing that it would be some kind of explosive that activated once he answered, Romanov held it far away from his ear as he answered.
“Hello?”
Romanov said tentatively into the speaker of his iPhone. To his relief, no explosion occurred, as Romanov waited for the speaker’s voice.
“Romanov De Luca?”
The voice that answered was gruff, and had the feeling of no nonsense that many trained killers seemed to have. Being one himself, Romanov could instantly recognized skilled killers just by listening to their voices. Alarm bells started ringing in his head, and he forced himself to remain silent, keeping his breathing in check. If he was not careful, the man at the end of the line may pick up his sped up breathing, instantly knowing that he was feeling suspicious and slightly scared. Me? Scared? Never! Romanov snorted to himself as he forced himself to keep deathly quiet and silent.
“I know you are there, Mr Romanov De Luca. Relax, for I am not your enemy. In fact, think of me as a nobody, and as a person who does not exist. Then again, how can you prove your existence?”
The man at the end of the line gave a small chuckle as he stayed silent for a few seconds, as though waiting for Romanov’s reply. When none came, he coughed and spoke again.
“Anyway, I have heard much about your skills in killing, and in the mafia world, your reputation is quite notable, if not you’re very well known around these darker parts of the world. To slay the entire De Luca family in cold blood at only the age of ten, that is quite…astounding, and slightly disturbing to be exact.”
The man chuckled again, waiting for Romanov’s reply. When again none came, he coughed and began his long speech again.
“Anyhow, I have a proposal for you. If you kill someone I want, I will pay you a hundred thousand euros. Do we have a deal?”
A hundred thousand euros for something as simple as killing! It seemed to Romanov as though the God of death had smiled upon him for the first time, granting him luck and fortune. He felt as though he was a paid grim reaper, reaping lives for the sake of money. Of course, that did not sound like a bad proposal.
“So, what do you say, Mr Romanov De Luca? Yes or no to this more than fair deal?”
The man’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, returning him to the world of Italy, in front of the basilica of saint paul, in Rome, Italy.
“Name, appearance, location.”
Romanov’s killer instincts immediately took over, and in a split second he was no longer the innocent looking boy that he was before, but instead a heartless and cold blooded killing machine, caring only about the identity of his victim, or his target.
“I see your reputation in your efficiency is no rumour, Mr Romanov De Luca. Very well. Connor Fitzgerald, age 50, is balding and about 5 feet 8. Last seen wearing a trench coat. Location…the basilica of Saint Paul, Rome. I believe you reside in Rome yourself, Mr Romanov De Luca. I trust this would not be a difficult mission for you then?”
The Basilica of Saint Paul! Where he was standing with his feet, at this very moment! Romanov never felt more in luck. Hardly able to hold the iPhone and keep his voice steady, Romanov spoke again, as calmly as possible.
“We have a deal, businessman with no name. Leave the money at the Basilica of Saint Paul, in the tourist district. I want to make sure that you have no funny business…man with no name.”
The rumours of Romanov being a trained killer really were no joke. He heard the man at the end of the line chuckle, before hanging up without so much as a farewell or even a goodbye. Time to get to work… He thought as he pocketed his iPhone, before putting his hands into his pockets and heading out to the more populated area of the Basilica of Saint Paul. cards dealt: 977▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
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