Just a day in Italy’s capital and I had already been exposed to a lot, food laced with Ichor being the biggest shocker of the day.
Sure, eting Chiara was cool, but how could it compare to that?
When I got back to the hotel, although I ntioned Chiara, I didn’t tell anyone about the extraordinary happenings of our encounter. I was surprised to learn that, in the course of their activities the previous day, Ninja Momma and Hontas had stepped into the Vatican.
Ninja Momma had spent the morning drilling several objectives into our heads, and before we left, she had called aside for so last instructions. At the mont, we were in a black rcedes cruising through the city of Ro. Hontas and I sat in the back while Ninja Momma sat in front with the driver.
There wasn’t much conversation throughout the ride, and we alighted from the vehicle when we ca before the gates of the Vatican. A woman dressed in a suit stood at the front, and following Isolde’s lead, we walked up to her.
"Welco to the Via della Conciliazione, Priestess Hontas. I know you’ve been to the Vatican before, but that was only the museums. This ti you’ll get to enter St. Peter’s Basilica."
The woman’s smile was warm and welcoming, her back bending slightly as she shook the representative of Varunism. Offering my own greetings, I paid attention to our surroundings. The sparse population at the church’s entrance was surprising.
"I would have expected many people to want to see the Basilica," I comnted.
"Oh, your expectations are not wrong. Please, follow ."
Following behind Rebecca, we climbed the stairs to the church, going past several tall pillars with engravings on top. We went through a double door, the shine from outside disappearing and being replaced with light that was refracted and dampened. A solemn feeling filled the wide corridor we entered.
Rebecca had a smile as she turned back and saw our amazed expressions, and when she faced forward again, I let my eyes fall to her rump. I was the last in our small group, so no one was the wiser to my perverted actions.
"If you take this path and walk to the end, you’ll find an entrance to the main building of the church on your right. Moving forward will take you to the famous St. Peter’s Square."
My eyes brightened at the thought of seeing the square, but Rebecca led us to the right, and my forehead creased in disappointnt. The sounds from the square ahead faded as we diverted, and after walking past two more double doors, we began climbing a flight of stairs.
"This is a much better view of the square," Rebecca said once we reached a higher floor.
After climbing the stairs, we entered a hallway, and along our path, we ca across an opening to the side. Coming to a stop, my eyes trembled as they were struck by the direct rays of the sun, but I peered through it to witness the spectacle below.
Throngs of people moved left and right, a mix of different races and cultures.
"Where do all these people co from?" I asked.
"They ca through the Viale Vaticano. It’s the entrance to the museum. Most tourists enter the Vatican through there, and while they can get into the square, entry into the Basilica is restricted."
A feeling of importance bubbled inside after hearing Rebecca’s words, especially when I noticed a few people looking up from the square at us, reverence in their eyes.
"Being a religious leader might not be so bad," I muttered.
We spent a few minutes appreciating the view below us before continuing our journey. Taking a sharp turn that led us farther away from St. Peter’s Church and its square, we ca before a normal rectangular door, half absorbed by the wall.
All was silent around us, just the tall white walls of the Vatican and its reflective floor surrounding us. When Rebecca pulled open the plain-looking door, a blend of ordered sounds reached us.
"Please."
This ti, we went ahead of the woman, stepping into a large hall that contained several select people. Though our entry from the side of the tall, wide hall drew attention, it was not nearly as much as if we had entered through the towering wide doors at the far end of the room.
"If you need anything, I’ll be here," Rebecca said after we walked a few steps, moving to the side.
Watching Rebecca for a mont, I turned to the individuals in the hall, identifying so of the dignitaries and their escorts. Just by the way they dressed, I could already point out the religions so groups belonged to.
"Do you see them?" Ninja Momma walked beside and whispered.
"Uman Sedrick, a bishop and the main representative of the Zion Faith at this Papal eting. Dean Finnder, he’s the ambassador for the Circular Faith—their supre leader didn’t co. Bishop Redrick, he’s the representative of the Presbyterians..."
After being forced to look at pictures and morize the nas of individuals, the information of everyone I laid my eyes on flashed in my head as I scanned the room. The reason Ninja Momma was in Ro, the reason I had been called to Ro, was in this very room. One of the religious leaders here was the ticket to our main target, who resided in the city.
It was daunting how much we hoped to discover from just this little lead, but Ninja Momma believed in the abilities of her team, and especially. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.
"Alright, let’s mingle and get a feel for the air before the Pope arrives and starts things."
I had never stared at the Pope in person in my past life, so I was looking forward to his arrival.
For the anti, though, I turned my attention to the skirts in the room, imaginations of their different flavors manifesting in my head, then I settled my gaze on a particular face.
She wore makeup and clasped her hands together, giving off an air of holiness, but I knew her true makeup, how nasty and ssy it really was.
"Kitty, been a while."
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