Romano collapsed against the immense stonework, heaving for breath. He looked up at the face of the angel that leaned over him. Crossing himself, he followed the gaze of the angel down to the plaza below. "Cristo, amato, come dobbiamo guardare a voi adesso . . ."

The screaming reached to his perch so high above Piazza di San Pietro. Cadaveri filled its gate out into the streets surrounding the Holy City. They pushed and shoved and gave shrill cries as the pursued the surviving townspeople. The gore was everywhere. It broke Romano's heart, made him sick to watch. His children, young and old, were being ravaged like lambs by a horde of wolves.

He cried, then. He cried bitter tears of pain and regret. And he prayed.

After a time, Romano moved from beneath the protective shadow of the angelic statue and began to walk about the rim of the colonnade, moving toward the Vatican. Saint Peter's Basilica was a testament to the glory of God - to Romano it was a monument to the dead and the corrupt. The walls surrounding the several main buildings of Vatican City were meant to keep out curious eyes, so that His Holiness, His caretakers, His bishops, their caretakers, and the various other clergy could keep their rites in secret, peace, and comfort. A stronghold in and of itself, the Vatican was a secure place. Surely, from one nation to another, Romano could expect sanctuary.

Upon reaching the dome of the Basilica, Romano began to navigate the ribs of the structure, feeling like a street rat for all his nimbleness. The drop would be short if he were to misstep. The thought brought him a surprising grain of comfort as he continued to climb. It really would be easy, now that it crossed his mind. He really could just let go, drop to the street below, and let himself become a mess on the cobblestones. The trauma would be too great for his body to reanimate, and the fall might be long enough for him to pray -

"Romano! Italian, what are you doing?"

He nearly lost his grip on the stone, startled at the shout. He looked around, finally seeing the blond mop leaning out of a lower-level window of the housing complex just behind the Basilica. His eyes lit up.

"Vash!" Of course! The Swiss Guard!

"What are you doing up there? How did you manage such a feat?"

Romano had the grace to look sheepish: "I watched this church be built, Swiss. And I still run parkour . . . I didn't want those things to get me, so I climbed . . ." He forced a glower. "Are you going to let me in or let me fall? I'll come and eat you if you let me die!"

Vash made a face as he was pushed aside. The child could have been his twin, if not for the severe difference in height. "Brüder, help Herr Roma inside!"

The Swiss blinked. "But, His Holiness -"

The younger blonde looked to the elder, "They'll eat him, brüder!"

Vash sighed. He shouted out the window, "Don't let go, Italian! We'll get you down." He began to close the window.

"Wait! Wait, just leave the window open! I can make it, just clear the way!" Romano began to move along the dome again.

"Are you sure?" the little blonde called.

"Si, si, very sure!"

Romano crouched beneath his hand-holds and took a calming breath. His thighs bunched. He leapt for the window, grunting with effort, arms outstretched. His fingers grazed the windowsill before he hit the wall under it and began to slide. There was a shriek, and his arm jerked painfully by the wrist, stopping his fall. He looked up.

Vash glared down at him from where he leaned out the window, holding Romano by the arm.

Romano winced: "Well . . . mostly sure."

Vash shook his head and hauled the Italian through the window.

Vash and Lili led Romano into the depths of the Vatican. Their uniforms were surprisingly unkempt. The yellow was splattered with dark, thick blood, and the blue was dirty to the point of seeming grey. Romano worried his lip.

"How bad is it beyond the walls, Herr Roma?" Lili asked.

Romano was appalled by the brightness of her tone. He had to stop himself from snapping at her - she was too young to understand. She had knowledge of the World Wars, survived depression, but only those nearer his age had memories comparable. He looked to Vash, his expression withdrawn.

Vash's mouth grew into a frown, "Italian?"

Romano's gaze turned to the floor. "I would say the height of the plague," he said, "but even then there was hope. I doubt survival is an option, now."

Lili looked up at her brother with eyes full of questions, but Vash had already retreated into memories he wished he could forget. He wanted for his darling little sister to never have to experience such waking nightmares.

"What do you suggest we do?" he finally asked.

Romano shook his head, "Cleanse the city. But the government has gone to ground, and this horror is well beyond the city. I can feel it in my bones. Don't you?

Lili rubbed her arm. Vash tried to conceal his limp more effectively. Romano sighed through his nose.

The three walked in tense silence to the feet of two massive wooden doors. Around the two handles, a thick-linked chain had been wound and locked. Vash pulled a key ring from a hidden pocket.

"His Holiness and the clergy are inside, for their safety, of course." He twisted a key into the padlock and undid the chain. "There is no electricity, but the bell-pulls are still connected, should any emergency arise." Vash began to pull open the doors.

Lili piped up: "When should we be expecting Herr Veni?"

Romano set his hand on the door, holding it closed.

"Veneziano isn't coming."

Both blonds hid their distress well. Romano opened the door himself and disappeared into the room beyond.