It was a rare occasion for Neria to visit Rome. The ancient city had many qualities that she found lovely, and others that she held a sour dislike for. Neria worked to keep her scorn in tact as she neared the bridge crossing the Tiber River to the Vatican district. She could blame no one but herself for this bad luck, and she paid no glance to any passerby as she embarked. As the Vatican's sensitivity demanded, Neria was clothed and covered from neck to toe. Her necklace was hidden in her shirt, and her arms covered down to her wrists with deep burgundy. Her jeans also went down past her ankles, her boots heavy on the bridge. Her eyes were hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. She would keep her head low as she wandered towards he destination; a lowly native among buzzing clouds of tourists.

Within the Vatican, Neria kept her eyes darting about, headed off towards her destination. Her most recent order had her banging her head against the wall in frustration. It was an offer she couldn't refuse, but damn if it didn't sound a nigh impossible task. The man approached her anonymously with a deal: five million Euros if she could uplift the Letter to the Romans from the Basilica di San Pietro. After a few weeks of research and with provided sources, Neria came to the conclusion that the man wasn't bullshitting. The one letter of seven written by the late Ignatius of Antioch had apparently been kept sealed in the man's very tomb, hidden within the crypt underneath the Basilica. As much as Neria hated graverobbing, five million euros sounded enticing.

There was a risk, though.

Being that the letters written by the dead Saint were just about two full thousand years old, it was possible that they were nothing but piles of dust now, especially if kept in the writer's tomb. Then again, the Vatican was good at restoring and preserving what it held most dear. Even if the actual letter was no longer standing up to the test of time, perhaps there was a copy of it laying around somewhere. Why wouldn't there be? The Letters, Neria imagined, would have been of utmost value to the Papacy. Especially a letter of martyrdom. The predictability of the church kept her going, and towards Saint Peter's Basilica she went, entering in with a crowd of excited and overwhelmed tourists. She broke away from the group, taking in the monstrosity's interior. Five cameras, and a cluster of vents that lead down into the crypt. She took note of the guards, and made mental maps of entryways she could take advantage of. The Saint's Basilica held ownership of plenty of blind spots.

She made note of every nook and cranny, every guard position, and within hours, she was out of the Basilica and waiting for the sun to go down. She dressed in all black, wrapping herself up to flatten her chest, with a small shoulder bag secured firmly behind her, as well as a waist bag full of supplies to disarm and sabotage alarms and cameras. Her small pistol was holstered in her hip, but it was a dire hope she wouldn't have to use it. The Vatican wouldn't take kindly to a dead guard on their hands, and will drown all of Italy in a sea of flames to snuff out the perpetrator. Knocking out guards usually did her wonders if she couldn't escape their eventual notice.

In the cloak of midnight, Neria swooped in on the Basilica, evading the sights of guards and climbing up the backside of the colossal building. The window awaiting her was high up, but her stamina would hold out until she reached it. Any door on ground level would sound an alarm if she even so much as looked at the knob. Upon reaching the window, she unscrewed it and laid the glass gently down before preparing to squeeze in. The window itself was small, and would take some special maneuvering to get through it. She scrunched herself through, wiggling her wider hips in, and crouching on the ledge upon which she was lead, overlooking the main corridor of the basilica, within the dome.

"Cazzo," she mouthed. She didn't realize she was this high up. She looked down in the middle of the dome, seeing the Bernini Baldacchino just down the way. She would have to use it to get down to ground level, and to reach it, she crawled along the narrow edge upon which she sat, creeping silently to not alert any of the guards. And crawl she did, making a vault towards the bronze statue and catching herself on the ledge. She looked down and around, spotting one, then a second guard. Neria lowered herself silently, proceeding to take them both out and remove keys from their person.

With quick maneuvering through the shadows, she disengaged the cameras with tools from her pocket, blocking the lenses with a black, sticky substance shot from a pea shooter, allowing her to go to one of the many vents in the floor, and dislodge it with a crowbar. She slipped down into the vent, dropping down into the crypt beneath the building. "Che schifo," she said, making a face at the smell. It didn't seem like anyone had been down here since the burial of Pope John Paul II. With flashlight in hand, Neria made her way through the narrow tunnels, passing a number of cement sarcophagi before reaching that of the infamous Saint Ignatius of Antioch.

"Salute, messere," she said, giving a nod to the large grey box, "Allow me to peruse your wares, if you don't mind." With her crowbar, she began working on dislodging the lid of the sarcophagus. It took muscle and effort, more than enough on her part, before the lid finally cracked open. Face red and knuckles white, Neria slowly moved the lid to the side, revealing the contents inside behind a poof of dust. She coughed and covered her mouth, looking inside to find the very much dusty pile of bone and cloth of the late Saint.

Well, he was real. But were his letters?

Neria looked through the sarcophagus, looming in with her flashlight. There was nothing of noted value, save for a gold cylinder, about four inches in diameter, and eleven inches in length. She gingerly picked it up, backing away from the sarcophagus and kneeling down on the cement floor. She gently unscrewed it and pulled out the end, revealing ancient yellowed paper within. She gasped, "Oh my god," before removing the writ completely from its case and gently unrolling it. Upon its surface was an ancient set of passages, written in an ancient language she didn't understand, and perfectly restored and preserved by the Vatican.

"I found it," she whispered, unrolling it completely and looking it over with wide, almost horrified eyes, "Holy shit, I can't believe my eyes. It's actually real..."

Four million euros were in her grasp. All she had to do now was escape the Basilica.

Neria froze and looked up from the encased scroll as she heard noises sparking from above. She was beneath the Basilica, hidden deep within the ancient catacombs, but could easily hear the guards calling out to one another in a panic. Their footsteps were like those of terrified mice. She smirked slightly, until she heard someone from down the way, griping at the smell. Her free hand immediately went over her light, clicking it off and allowing darkness to claim its own once more, her entire figure disappearing in the shadows. She shoved the gold cylinder case into her bag, and turned back towards the still open sarcophagus, "Grazie, messere. Arrivaderci, hai una fortuna." She made a salute before turning down the narrow ways of the catacombs, aiming to escape this new man who had found her.

Judging by his accent, he sounded Scottish. Or was it Irish. The bastards sounded all the same to her. Still, she needed to get away from him and quickly. Her luck was starting to test the waters, choppy waters of the Italian guard. Those that protected the church were far more fierce than those of the city. Her heart began to pump hard in her chest as she moved, turning blindly down corners and slipping into narrow passages. Let them come, she thought. Let them come and test their mettle against her swift. The fox has always been the elusive shadow amongst the sea of wolves. Let them come bearing their bows and arrows! She snickered audibly, feeling bold enough to taunt the man that followed her down into the holy tombs.

Instead, she remained silent. The soft click clack of her shoes would lead the man to her if the darkness didn't disorient him into oblivion. She soon was stopped, however, met with what felt like a very narrow crevice, almost a break in the wall, just barely big enough for a full sized person to fit through. She cursed as she felt the hole in the carved stone. Putting the bag with the goods in front, she turned herself sideways, knees bending, stomach pulling in to flatten further, as she pushed herself through the crack. "Argh," she growled as she wiggled herself through, "Must lay off the tiramisu, urgh!" She popped through after a good two minutes or so of wiggling and sliding, and felt her way down the other side of the way, "Hah, try to catch me now, figlio di puttana."

The area beyond the cut in the stone wall had been lit up by unflickering flames held secure in the walls. What kind of place was this? Was it still part of the crypt underneath the Basilica? Neria hadn't a clue how far she'd gone, but could easily imagine it was a bit of a ways. The walls were a lighter cream color, still rough with the earthen materials used to construct it. No sarcophagi lined the walls though, and rather than a series of small narrow hallways, it was one singular tunnel that curved and slithered through the underground. She heard the man's voice again and she scowled briefly in irritation, looking up behind her at him as he sat on the edge of an alcove above the massive crack she just squeezed through. She narrowed her eyes slightly, "Cazzo," and bolted down the way of the tunnel.

The man was of obvious craft. She would give him at least that much. But she was good at what she did, and she always got away with little effort. This time would be no different. She sped up down this tunnel, working to put some distance between herself and this Irish pursuer. After a small bit of running, she was stopped by an edge leading to a drop. She skidded to a stop, hands going to the walls to keep herself from vaulting over the edge, "Whoa!" She looked down over the edge, chest heaving as she sucked in precious air. Across the way was a rope, cascading down the wall from a large wooden crate in a hidden alcove above. She took a couple steps back, before starting off in a run and jumping, "Hggh!" and grabbing onto the rope, her weight causing the crate to jar. She swung forward, her shoes grazing the wall. At the peak of her swing, she leaped from the rope, grabbing onto the edge of a new walk way, and pulling herself up.

Once she was up on her feet, she pulled out her Jericho and aimed it at the crate, sending off a few rounds to blast the crate down and across the edge, forcing it to fall and plummet with the rope down the drop. "Hmph," she huffed, putting the gun back in its holster and starting off in another run. "Try to jump that, idiota," she muttered under her breath as she kept running. There was a distant fear in the back of her mind that he could indeed jump that, if not simply run across the wall like the freak he was. Still, she kept running, coming to a small gate. As she passed through it and twisted, sending a roundhouse kick to a lever behind the gate and dropping it in place to block the man's path should he follow her across the gap. Still, she kept running, hoping to lose him in the labyrinth.

Neria figured that some distance had been effectively put between herself and the man chasing her. She slowed her pace, not wanting to wear herself out. Her one priority now, aside from losing her pursuer, was to get out of Rome. No doubt the Swiss Guard had been alerted, and setting foot on Roman soil would prove to be a dangerous move. She would have to find a way to leave Rome without touching the ground--literally. The shadows cast by buildings and the walkways high above the roads would serve as a generous means of escape. The Swiss and Roman guard would be none the wiser to her presence. But before she could take to the rooftops, she had to reach the surface.

And that was proving to be rather difficult.

With the Irishman chasing her down, Neria's decision making went faltered. Plenty of avenues she could have taken to escape if she hadn't had to make split-second decisions flew past her as she ran. And now that the man was a ways behind her, she could focus on routes to the upper world. Coming to another drop off, Neria looked on and up, taking in the view of what appeared to be a makeshift zip-line. She narrowed her eyes--what would a zip-line be doing down here? In fact, what was any of this underground tunnel business? Then again, the city of Rome was ancient. This could have been from before the common era, which meant her step had to be cautious.

Still, she couldn't simply stop here and get caught by the man chasing her. Taking out her gun, she made a running start towards the zip-line, jumping up and sliding down it using her gun as a handle mechanism. When the line ended, she vaulted forward, tumbling in her landing, and quickly getting up. She thought about shooting out the line, but such a thing would require a lot more bullets--bullets wasted for something more practical. She figured the man would find a way around the obstacle regardless, and kept on running. As she continued on into the dark, the light within the tunnels gradually dimmed until it was completely dark once more.

Ahead of her was a glowing crack amidst the darkness--another thin break in the wall for her to squeeze through. "Merda, not again," she sighed as she slowed in front of the crack, and squeezing herself through. "Agh," she grunted, her head getting stuck, "Noooo!" Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight, she pulled herself through, scraping her head through the narrow passage of stone, "Ow, ow--!" Her hands went to her head, cradling the areas scraped and soon to be bruised from getting stuck. In front of her was a long set of ladder steps, iron beams jutting out from the stone structure in front of her. With no other route to take, she took to the steps, reaching a metal lid and gently easing it up.

She took a quick peak from under the lid, not recognizing the surrounding area. It was quiet, save for light footsteps. Just a few feet ahead of her was the back of a man in an oddly colored uniform. In his hand was what looked like an old-fashioned halberd. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. He must have been one of the Swiss Guard. Looking around, he saw none else, and quietly crept from the lid, gently easing it down as silently as she could. She ducked down, making light as air steps behind the guard, reaching out for his halberd and giving it a tug.

"Eccola!" came his shrill cry, his other hand going for the other end of his halberd. With the polearm now in both his hands, Neria wrapped herself behind him, her hands going under the wood pole and sliding upward, her body snaking up his spine. Her elbows hooked around the pole, and she sank back, pulling the weapon back to his neck under his chin. Using her weight to pull him back, creating a curving bend in his spine, she held the weapon to his windpipe, suffocating him. With a few choking breaths, he slowly went limp, and she dropped him, "Sogni d'oro, messere." She turned from the unconscious form of the Swiss Guard and looked around. The place looked an awful lot like a museum, one she'd never been to before. Either way, she'd have to get out and quickly.

Neria wasn't expecting to hear a loud explosion from where she had just been. While making her way down the neat flooring of... whatever this was, she looked back in horror and irritation. "Idiota... That's going to alert every single guard here," she whispered to herself, stopping and looking around. Shadows cast all around, with what dim light there was--hiding would be easy here. However, the eyes and ears of the Swiss Guard were not lacking in skill. She heard the mixture of Italian and English from down a dark hall, and she made a split for the wall where the darkness was most concentrated. In utter silence, she scaled the wall, grabbing onto whatever could support her weight, until she was up on another ledge. When she saw the man chasing her emerge from the manhole, she hissed, rage and fuss making her face hot.

Then, the idea hit her.

She watched him as he too confronted a guard, and a wicked sneer marred her face. "Stronzo, stop following me! Aiuto!" she yelled out, catching the Guards' attention, her voice feigning distress, "Stop him! He plans to kill everyone here! Dio aiuto noi tutti!" She watched and waited, the clattering sound of rushed footsteps echoing down the halls. Hidden well within the darkness, Neria kept herself planted against the wall, watching as hoards of the Swiss Guard came flooding in, all armed with rifles, pistols and halberds. Perfect, she mouthed before continuing on along the ledge, away from the scene.

Looking about her, Neria noticed the elaborate decorations adoring the walls and the ceilings; large massive paintings--placed and displayed as if the building were an art salon. She had never seen this kind of structure before, and with the Swiss Guard patrolling the place, she had high doubts they weren't in the Vatican anymore. Then what building was this? It couldn't have still been Saint Peter's Basilica. It was too large, much too ornate.

Finding a window, she punched it through and slipped out, finding herself hanging over an edge of earthen-tone stone, rounding off in a circularly walled-structure. She looked down at the straight drop beneath her, and the various structures surrounding the building. It was like a fortress. A castle--in the Vatican.

Then it hit her.

Her eyes went wide with horror, "Castel Sant'Angelo."

No wonder there were Swiss Guards everywhere. They were in what was once the Papal Fortress. She cursed herself over and over as she looked around, searching for a threshold to lower herself down to. It all came down to the cracks and ledges within the walls. Her descent was slow to be sure, but it was as safe as it was ever going to get. With search lights meandering the walls, Neria worked to dodge them before she was above a strong enough ledge that was wide enough for her to walk on. She dropped, and snuck to the edge. She was on a higher platform now, but not too high from ground level. Ahead of her was the bridge back to the mainland of Rome.

All she had to do was cross it.

Neria's irritation only grew when she heard the voice behind her. She turned from the railing of the platform and looked back at him. She narrowed her eyes at him. Despite her having heard gunshots just a few minutes before, the man seemed perfectly fine. How did he get passed all the Swiss Guards? Did he kill them all? It was a curiosity indeed, but Neria had more important things to concern herself with. Like losing this guy's bloodhound nose, for instance. The bastard was a persistent one to be sure. It was a trait that displeased her greatly.

"You really don't know when to give up," she said, pulling out her gun, "I really don't like killing people. I don't like causing people physical trauma. Leaves tell-tale signs, signs that can get me caught." She pointed the gun at him, standing her ground in front of the railing. "I don't want to shoot you. I don't want to kill you. So why don't you turn your pretty Irish ass around and head the other way. My business doesn't concern you, so kindly mind your own." She stood there not moving, save for the slight shift in her weight from one leg to the next.

She narrowed her eyes, "I'm going to give you to the count of five before I start putting lead into your goddamn head. Yours will be the only casualty tonight, and by the good graces of the Almighty, one that won't get my ass in deep shit. I'm sure the Papacy will thank me for taking care of one less intruder into their fortress. So turn your dumb Irish ass around, and leave me alone. One... two... three... four... FIVE!" She squeezed the trigger, sending a pullet straight for the man's forehead.

Neria glared daggers at the man, watching as he fell. "Things weren't going to get out of hand. Not until you showed up. Pezzo di merda, had you not started meddling, this job would have been over hours ago. I would have been gone, and the Swiss Guard wouldn't have been involved. This chaos, this nonsensical tomfoolery, is your fault." Hearing the uproar from below, Neria ducked down, the search lights flooding the area. She kept in the shadow as best she could, pressing herself up against the railing while getting down on her knees below the edge. When did these fuckers get here? No doubt the news will be all over this sensation. Getting down and across the bridge was no longer an option. She had to take to the waters somehow.

She began crawling towards the left-hand ledge, away from the frontal railing and further into the shadow to avoid the search lights. When she looked back at him, she saw him recover from the injury, his head and brain matter knitting back together. She did a double take, blinking her eyes a number of times to see if she saw this correctly. What the fuck just happened? Did she not just put a bullet into his skull? And now he was back up, talking as if he were perfectly fine again! The wound was gone--and how? How could this be? Her face paled and her blood ran cold. Glancing up she noted the search lights collecting on him. Indeed the wound had healed--and he wasn't dead. Far from it in fact.

"Motherfucker," she hissed as she scrambled, vaulting over the railing and catching herself on the ledge, "Got to get away, got to get away right now." This fight was a losing one, and she knew it. Escape now was her only option. And getting into prison wasn't something she was willing to venture. She had no doubts she could escape, but getting caught now would require her to give up the letter and return to get it later. And with freaks impervious to bullets apparently stalking the grounds of the Holy See, she would rather this be one of very, very, very few incidents. "Arrivaderci e' una fortuna, stronzo. Do not follow me again," she said, grunting, as she rounded the structure on the ledge.

With good luck, the search lights wouldn't be able to reach her. But the farther she went, the more likely it became for her to make a dead drop into the water. And doing that would risk getting the letter wet and ruin it. As much as she didn't care for the Vatican or their sensibilities, she didn't want anything to happen to this ancient piece of history. After a few more meters, Neria spotted what looked like an old, abandoned gondola. Out here in the water? Perhaps it was left by some other thief. Either way, it would provide a helpful escape. Carefully, she began lowering herself down the wall to the gondola.

After lowering herself down a few notches, Neria dropped down onto the gondola. The small boat rocked and floated away from the wall, trembling under the force of impact from her weight. Neria collapsed in a heap in the wooden vehicle, and scrambled up a moment alter to grab the oar and start propelling the watercraft away from the wall. She heard a splash behind the boat--the man didn't seriously just dive into the water? "Argh," she growled as she punted faster, making long, forceful strokes to make the boat glide quicker down the current. She rowed the boat as quickly as she could, looking back over her shoulder to find a line trail following the man as he swam under water.

In a rage, she slowed the gondola, pushing forward on the oar, aiming it towards him in hopes of smacking him on the face with the flat end of it. "Stop following me!" she growled as loud as she could without alerting those still surrounding the Castle. The search lights flooded the platform they just left, and were erratically going over the walls and the bridge. Neria's itinerary was a small dock just around half a mile away from the bridge. Hopefully the splash of the man's dive didn't garner any further attention, and she'd be able to slip through Rome with the guard none the wiser.

Of course, she still had to get rid of this dumbass first.

After a quick period of rowing, the gondola bumped into the small wooden pier. She jumped up onto the platform and started up the steps to the mainland, feet light underneath her. She ducked down in hopes of merging more with the darkness, making a quick dash towards a building straight ahead and leaping up the wall, climbing up the various thresholds and ledges until she reached the rooftop. She would get away this way, no doubt. The Swiss and Roman Guard were too distracted by the hubbub at the Castle across the river. Barring the Irishman's persistence in stopping her, Neria's getaway was going to be clean.

Hopefully.