LINE'S DEAD.

        ‹‹ Too bad, too bad.  ››  

 Violent, – absolutely hostile,  the Boss steps forward – and so his guard does, delivering a new blow towards Polnareff.     The night coats thin above him, covering it all in it’s veil.   He had always rejoiced during night time.  He had always striked during night time.         An aid of nature itself for those that desire to not be seen,  the last protective barrier to him;  for when all else has failed / when the judgement day is near.         He wishes it could have been different,  but he had make a mistake, a far too critical one ; yet a mistake that could be repaired, nontheless.         

       ‹‹ So you think you can take my fate away from me ?  ››  Another blow – up close and personal, brutal.  Diavolo is able to barely distinguish the face of his rival amongst the shadows, yet he knows far too well who he is.   He is the man who thought he could take it all away from him, the man that thought he could be in control;  but it is a lie, a lie – a poorly fabricated one.   The Boss had always been a step ahead, the perfect balance always achieved.   The king shall always win at the end.           Another step forward, he sees how the next blow impacts, so close he can hear the noise it makes against the other’s body.   ‹‹ Who lied to you so cruelly, – who made you believe like that ?  ››      

      ‹‹ Then so, tell me —  ››  A heavy breath, accelerated even. The thrilling taste of victory upon him, the ecstasy of the peace to come when it’s all over – soon, soon.     His eyes spark under the faint streaks of moonlight that come through cutting across the darkness.    He pauses, so does his stand.   ‹‹ Is my presence worth this pain ?   ››    It would come, the end of it all, the return to normal.   The return to his fate.   All it took was one final measure — the no-witness rule.     ‹‹   Am I everything you’ve ever wanted ?   ››             And the thud of a blow is heard.

   It is vile, how it rises up in waves across his body -- a thing better defined as hatred.  It leaves him still on his place, hands sweat while clenched as fists. His stare darts everywhere but on the other, a thousand movements yet none ; all at one second.  He still holds close to the thought that the less visual interaction there is with a stranger, the clear the message to them will be -- a plead for them to cease attempting to communicate with him.     It disgusts Diavolo to the core when faced by the mere idea of the protocol of the face-to-face ; and more like this, amongst the public eye -- the crowds and crowds of people walking like insects, insects, insects.     At least they don’t speak to him.

   He doesn’t hear a single word that she says anymore, for he has successfully achieved to drown all sound to avoid the crescendo of tension.  She has questions, but he isn’t here to hear them.   She looks irritated, irascious even ; like in any second she’ll snap out of it -- blink and you may miss it, or at least, this is as far as he could tell.   He hears a question at last, eyes still fixed away.   He knows how simple it could be to snap her neck right now, in a second.   

         ‹‹  I already told you,  I don’t know.  ››

  ‹‹  father pucci ... is it ?  ››   his lips curl, kin to the devil’s own smile  —  as to indicate that deceitful inoffensiveness that lured anyone in / a part of the human nature ; to trust blindly even if the own snake of lucifer was crawling around their neck.     

 the man stands in the corner of the entrance to the small chapel,  staring towards the visitor. one that made himself present in a surprise ; he just recieved a message that the other would be arriving a few mintues ago.  how unconvenient.    —   dionigi hated unannounced visits ; but protocol was protocol & the house of god was open always to anyone who walked the righteous path & bla bla bla.                  it’s not like he had other choice, really ;  to allow a foreigner into his own domain ?  the only safe haven he could ever have ?  to occupy the same place as his secrets ?   oh.  how he would love to make the other disappear.