The Devil Lurking in the Shadows

Ferinze, Italia. September 3rd, 1973

Loud footsteps hit the hard ground in rhythm as the sounds of armor clattered in the silent, empty streets of Firenze. Six of the Firenze guards were marching down the dark streets under the moonless night. The one at the front of the small marching band led them through the streets with a lit lantern in his hand to help him navigate the way. Following him were five soldiers, one was carrying a box while being surrounded by the other four, two at the front and two at the back. None of them were aware of the dark shadow, stalking them like a predator stalking its next meal, blending with the darkness of the night.

The guards walked for a few more minutes before they came to a stop in front of a building with a locked door. The leader reached into his collar where he produced a key strapped to leather from around his neck. Unlocking the door and opening it, he motioned for the guard carrying the box to come in followed by the leader and two guards, while the other two guards stood outside keeping watch.

It was quiet for a few seconds before slight movement in the shadows brought the guards' attention. They raised their large axes in the air waiting for an attack.

"Who's there?" the large guard on the right called out, "show yourself, Stronzo!" there was more shuffling sounds before a small boy inched out of the shadows. His face was dirty as were his pants and shirt. He was a little boy probably around the age of four or five, with big brown eyes and dark untamed hair. His innocent eyes looked on fearfully at the guards.

The guard on the left relaxed while nudging the other one to do the same, "Relax, Roberto. He's just a little Orphan boy." the guard on the right looked back and forth between the boy and his fellow guard seeming unsure, but relaxed his stance anyway with a scoff. The boy inched closer to where he was standing a few meters in front of the guard on the right, whose name was Roberto.

"Go back to where you came from, ragazzino," Roberto grumbled, "be gone, monello!"

The little boy, didn't seem to like being called a brat. He narrowed his little eyes before pulling his foot back and kicking Roberto hard in the shin and sprinting away

"MERDA! FIGLIO DI PUTANNA!" Roberto groaned in pain hopping around ignoring the silent snickers coming from his fellow guard. Once the pain went away, his sight settled on the boy who was now staring at him from around the corner with a large grin on his face. Roberto growled in anger as he started marching his way to where the boy was standing, but was stopped by the other guard who told me to leave it, "It's not worth it, mia amico."

Roberto spat on the ground. The boy wasn't done yet. He threw a small pebble at Roberto's head. It bounced against Roberto's helmet with a loud clank before falling to the ground.

"Idiota!" was shouted from the boy's way, followed by another pebbled being thrown. Roberto growled before marching his way to the boy pushing his friend's hand trying to prevent him from leaving his post. But Roberto has had enough of that insolent little brat's shenanigans. It was time for someone to teach the little stronzo some lesson in respect.

The boy blew a raspberry at Roberto, before running away, giggling, with an angry Roberto at his heel.

The other guard shook his head with a chuckle at his friend's short temper. As amused as he was, though, he hoped his friend doesn't take long before their leader comes back out only to find that the watch post was missing one guard.

Suddenly, choking sounds broke the night's silence making the guard for a second think that Roberto has finally caught the boy, but that thought was soon gone as the guard glanced down to chest where he felt shots of pain. To his shock, pools of blood started spreading like wild fire from where the tip of a sharp blade was protruding from his chest

There was a clinching sound as the blade was removed from the now dead guard's body as he dropped lifeless to the ground. In his place stood a person wearing dark ropes the color of the darkest night, on the inside he was wearing a blood red shirt, over it he wore a black vest while a red cloth was wrapped around his waist with a circle pendent in silver that has a symbol similar to what looks like the tip of an arrow painted in red. His face was covered by shadows caused from his red hood on his head, concealing his face from the onlookers only showing his small pouty lips and smooth jaw. Two swords were resting inside their sheaths on his side while a long sharp and a bloody blade was sticking out of the sleeve of his right arm. Upon unclenching his fist, it was obvious that the person has only four digit fingers on his right hand, with his ring finger missing. Un-seemingly bothered, or used to the missing finger, the person unsheathed his blade, hiding it back into his sleeve with a flick of his wrest.

The figure crouched down, lifting the dead guard by his shoulders and dragging his dead weight to a close by alleyway where the darkness would hide his corpse. Making his way back to the guard post, the figure opened the door quietly as he slipped through. He padded softly, his feet not making any sounds, as he leaned against the wall beside a corridor. Leaning out, he saw the guard was standing at a door guarding it. Leaning out, the figure whistled softly gaining the guard's attention.

The guard looked around suspiciously at where the whistle came from. Thinking that his fellow guards outside were messing with one another or possibly with him, he shook away the suspicious thought. There was no one inside but him and three others. Another whistle sounded, and this time there was no denying its origins. It came from the end of the hallway. With a hand hovering over where his sword is resting at his side, the guard inched his way to where he heard the whistle. To his confusion though, he found nothing. Scratching his head in confusion, he shrugged and turned around only to walk straight into a sharp blade stabbed through his belly. The dark figure followed the dying guard's movement as he fell to the ground in a dead heap to cushion his fall and not alert the two guards.

Making his way to the door, he opened it only to find a staircase leading down to what seemed to be the cellars. Going down the stairs silently, he was met with a wide space that has a bunch of boxes and crates scattered around. Making his way to hide behind one crate, he leaned out to find the guard who was holding the box before, was now sitting at a rectangular table with a bottle of wine in his hand. Silently with no sound, the figure inched his way slowly to where he was sitting. With such reflex and speed, the guard had his neck snapped within seconds. Picking the guard up and throwing his weight onto his shoulder, the figure, with a little bit of struggle, hid the body behind one of the crates. Before he could make his way to eliminate the leader, the door at the far wall was slammed open as the lead guard marched his way out grumbling about useless guards the whole time. Pausing next to the now empty table, the lead guard looked puzzled at finding a wine bottle with no guard around. Feeling movement behind him, the leader quickly turned around only to find nothing. Another movement from the corner of his eye, and the leader turned that way too. Puzzled he saw nothing too. Goosebumps rose along the skin of his arms as he slowly inched his way behind the crates where he saw the movement last. He was puzzled again at seeing no intruder that is until he looked to the floor where the guard he was with was found lying down with his neck twisted at an odd angle.

Quickly, unsheathing his sword, the lead guard was alerted, eyes looking around frantically trying to find the intruder. "Guards!" he called, right as movement flashed from the right. He swung his sword that way, calling for the guards again, not knowing that they were all dead but for one who was too busy chasing a rebel child.

He felt like someone was breathing down his neck, so he turned around swiftly, slashing his sword as he did. Unfortunately, the intruder had fast reflexes as he dodge the swinging sword by a simple crouch and twist of his body to where he stood behind the now turned body of the leader. The leader swung again and again, and the dark figure kept dodging every ferocious sword swing from the lead guard as if he were dancing to some kind of music only he could only hear.

CLANK

The sword was stopped mid swing by a blade sticking out of the sleeve of the dark figure. The lead guard snarled, trying push with all of his weight on his sword to beat the intruder, but was slightly shocked when he was met little resistance from the dark figure. In fact, the dark figure gave a feral smile making the lead guard frown in confusion and slight fear at the predator smile pointed at him. Suddenly, the dark figure raised his hand and in one fluid motion rested it on the head of the lead guard. The leader flinched, thinking that another hidden blade would be unleashed to stab him in his head. Fortunately to him, the intruder only rested his hand on his forehead and the lead guard was shocked at how soft and warm the hand felt on his sweaty forehead.

"Requiescat in pace" soft, music like voice, sounded in the now silent caller, before the lead guard could pinpoint to where the sound came from, in one fast, and fluid, movement, the dark figure twisted his right arm with the blade in a circular motion, disarming the lead guard before stabbing him through the heart in such a dizzying speed, that the lead guard didn't know that he was even disarmed before he took his final breath.

Unsheathing his blade as the lead guard's body fell lifeless to the floor the dark figure crouched down beside the dead body. His left hand reached up to close his eyes that were still gazing in fear. The hand was small and had a silver skeleton like jewelry on the back of the hand reaching to wrap around halfway around the fingers like rings, and the top of the skeletal part of the pointer finger had a red stone bringing more beauty to the skeletal like glove yet it was handsomely intimidating.

Finishing with that, he reached down to the collar of the corpse, where a leather necklace was hanging from around his neck; the dark figure ripped it out. Holding it in his hand, there was a key and next to it was a circular golden pendent that had a large red cross painted inside of it. Throwing away the key, he put the rest in his pouch. Standing up he made his way towards the door where the now dead lead guard came from. Opening the door with a loud squeak, the dark figure scanned around until his eyes rested on the box that one of the guards was carrying. Stepping in, a large satisfied smile showed on the dark figure's otherwise hidden face.

Meanwhile, Roberto marched back to his post grumbling the whole time about the bastard kid and how he will find him again and give him the beating the he very well disserves. To his puzzlement, he found the guard post empty. Thinking that his fellow guard was called in for something or another, he shrugging as he took his stance guarding the door while hoping that his friend would cover for him for his slight disappearance when he ran after the bastard boy.

Hearing the door open, Robert thought it was his friend so he turned to greet him, only to be greeted with a stab in the heart by a hidden blame. The dark figure caught the heavy set guard before he could crash against the floor with a loud crash. He dragged his dead weight inside before dropping him and making his way out and closing the door after him.

A rustling in the shadows alerted him. Out of the dark shadows came out a little boy, the same one from before. Although he was panting like he was running for miles and had some bits of hay stuck to his hair. He was quiet as he looked at the dark figure silently for a few minutes, before grinning and a little laugh escaped him. The dark figure chuckle and shook his head, making his way to the little boy, he ran his fingers through the boy's hair removing the hay from his dark locks.

"Was I good? Ha? Did I do great? Did I do good, sorella?" he shot in a childish excitement.

The dark figure gave a fond smile while resting her soft hand on the boy's cheek, "yes, you were, piccolo, my brave little guerriero." He gave a large smile, puffing out his chest, before he gave a large yawn that he tried to suppress. She smiled fondly, "it seemed that my little guerriero is in need of some rest," the boy smiled lazily as he rubbed his eye with his knuckle giving another large yawn. She chuckled as she leaned down and picked up the boy into her arms. This little adventure must have tired the little kid, for he fell asleep the moment his head rested on her shoulder sucking his thump into his mouth. She kissed his little cheek, smiling fondly.

"Buonoanotte, Angelo. Sweet dreams."

TRANSLATION:

Firenze- Florence

Stronzo- asshole

Ragazzino-little boy

Monello- brat

MERDA-shit

FIGLIO DI PUTANNA- song of a bitch/whore

mia amico- my friend

Idiota- idiot

Sorella-sister

Piccolo-little one

Guerriero-warrior

Buonoanotte-goodnight