08-09-2014, 12:15 PM
Being this close to his nephew brought memories back to Giovanni...memories of a different time and a different name.
Three years earlier, Rome, Italy...
Francesco had just been released from the hospital and he knew what it meant. They would hunt him - those he had once called brother would hunt him and they wouldn't stop until he was gone.
He didn't check out of the hospital. Lucky for him, he was on the first floor, so he climbed through the window and used the training the Atharim had given him in stealth to remain hidden as he left Rome. He had trained slowly, wanting to perfect his craft before receiving the ouroboros and now it looked like he would never receive it.
Part of him thought they were right - the Atharim, but the more primal need for survival took hold. He would be hunted, but he would make sure he did what he could to avoid them. He had left the hospital at night to be able to use the cover of darkness. He would use every advantage he could get.
He was one of them. One of those that had destroyed the world. He had power and didn't know how to use it. He didn't know if he would ever want to use it. He felt dirty using it - an evil filth that wouldn't go away whenever he felt that power raging through him.
Francesco kept moving, reaching the outskirts of the city and finally arriving in some area of country. He started to run. Being out in the open made him more nervous as suddenly a vehicle approached from behind.
Francesco hid behind a tree and made himself small as the vehicle stopped and doors opened and closed. "Come out Francesco, we know you're there. You know why we're here. Let's just get it over with."
It was his brother, Alberto. His brother had come himself to see the deed completed. His brother was probably smart enough to know that Francesco would be little danger to him now; Francesco couldn't use his god-powers at will yet.
Francesco stepped out and saw that his brother was not alone. Alberto's son, Luciano had accompanied him. Alberto was much older than Francesco, and as a result, his nephew was only three years younger than he.
"I'll make it quick brother. You know we have to do it."
Alberto had thought Francesco would give up and part of him wanted to, but another part of him was angry and full of fear. He was afraid to die and didn't want his brother's hands stained with his own blood. Suddenly, that power filled him - it was disgusting and sweet at the same time.
Fear filled him as the cloudless sky filled with clouds. Francesco looked up as did Alberto and Luciano. Recognition filled Alberto's eyes as he began to pull out a gun to fire at Francesco. Before doing so, lightning struck from the sky and hit Alberto. Luciano was tossed aside and landed on top of the vehicle they had used to follow him. The scent of burnt hair and flesh filled the air.
Francesco moved forward, examining Alberto's body. There was no way his brother had survived. He then check Luciano; the boy was unconscious, but still breathing. He would live, and more than likely lead the hunt for his uncle now.
Francesco ran east, eventually coming to a church. There was a horse stable outside, and Francesco saddled one. He was tired, but couldn't stop running now. The horse would get him far enough away from Rome for now. It was night, but not terribly late and the church choir was practicing inside. He recognized the piece as Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina's Missa Papae Marcelli.
As he rode away, Francesco thought that he would need a new name. It probably wouldn't help forever, but it would slow the Atharim down. The name of the Mass's composer would suffice for a first name, but what would be a good surname. Francesco held tighter to the reins as he thought of the Italian word for horse...change a few things...and it would work.
Giovanni Cavelli would be a good name...
Giovanni looked as his nephew face him. Luciano was good at hiding his emotions, but Giovanni and fear were old friends and he recognized the fear in his nephew's eyes. Luciano knew he had come face to face with a god.
Three years earlier, Rome, Italy...
Francesco had just been released from the hospital and he knew what it meant. They would hunt him - those he had once called brother would hunt him and they wouldn't stop until he was gone.
He didn't check out of the hospital. Lucky for him, he was on the first floor, so he climbed through the window and used the training the Atharim had given him in stealth to remain hidden as he left Rome. He had trained slowly, wanting to perfect his craft before receiving the ouroboros and now it looked like he would never receive it.
Part of him thought they were right - the Atharim, but the more primal need for survival took hold. He would be hunted, but he would make sure he did what he could to avoid them. He had left the hospital at night to be able to use the cover of darkness. He would use every advantage he could get.
He was one of them. One of those that had destroyed the world. He had power and didn't know how to use it. He didn't know if he would ever want to use it. He felt dirty using it - an evil filth that wouldn't go away whenever he felt that power raging through him.
Francesco kept moving, reaching the outskirts of the city and finally arriving in some area of country. He started to run. Being out in the open made him more nervous as suddenly a vehicle approached from behind.
Francesco hid behind a tree and made himself small as the vehicle stopped and doors opened and closed. "Come out Francesco, we know you're there. You know why we're here. Let's just get it over with."
It was his brother, Alberto. His brother had come himself to see the deed completed. His brother was probably smart enough to know that Francesco would be little danger to him now; Francesco couldn't use his god-powers at will yet.
Francesco stepped out and saw that his brother was not alone. Alberto's son, Luciano had accompanied him. Alberto was much older than Francesco, and as a result, his nephew was only three years younger than he.
"I'll make it quick brother. You know we have to do it."
Alberto had thought Francesco would give up and part of him wanted to, but another part of him was angry and full of fear. He was afraid to die and didn't want his brother's hands stained with his own blood. Suddenly, that power filled him - it was disgusting and sweet at the same time.
Fear filled him as the cloudless sky filled with clouds. Francesco looked up as did Alberto and Luciano. Recognition filled Alberto's eyes as he began to pull out a gun to fire at Francesco. Before doing so, lightning struck from the sky and hit Alberto. Luciano was tossed aside and landed on top of the vehicle they had used to follow him. The scent of burnt hair and flesh filled the air.
Francesco moved forward, examining Alberto's body. There was no way his brother had survived. He then check Luciano; the boy was unconscious, but still breathing. He would live, and more than likely lead the hunt for his uncle now.
Francesco ran east, eventually coming to a church. There was a horse stable outside, and Francesco saddled one. He was tired, but couldn't stop running now. The horse would get him far enough away from Rome for now. It was night, but not terribly late and the church choir was practicing inside. He recognized the piece as Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina's Missa Papae Marcelli.
As he rode away, Francesco thought that he would need a new name. It probably wouldn't help forever, but it would slow the Atharim down. The name of the Mass's composer would suffice for a first name, but what would be a good surname. Francesco held tighter to the reins as he thought of the Italian word for horse...change a few things...and it would work.
Giovanni Cavelli would be a good name...
Giovanni looked as his nephew face him. Luciano was good at hiding his emotions, but Giovanni and fear were old friends and he recognized the fear in his nephew's eyes. Luciano knew he had come face to face with a god.