NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: The OOC thread is here.
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=369763
This is where you will get an invite if you wish to join or just post plans or OOC stuff. I'm going to start off with my char's reason to do what he is.


IC:

Don Mills was in Hell. This was also known as the Secession Wars. His country had just seceeded from the US, and the USA was trying to get their Marine Corps back along with the South. Good luck, you won't take us alive Don, the platoon radio operator, thought as he puffed on his cigarette. This was the bloody siege of Gatlinburg. Over 12,000 men on each side had died already in order for this strategis position for artillery. A whole division had bit the dust for this stinking hill. Well, the Yankees wanted the view as much as the Southern side did. Joe was watching the Yankee artillery being delivered via chopper. Those four Sky Cranes was under a load from that Texas Gun (19 inch arty piece that could level Austin, TX from Nashville, TN). The platoon sniper, Joe, had an idea. He'd shoot half of the support cables of each Sky Crane. Joe took careful aim and squeezed off eight shots in rapid sucession, each hitting their mark. The four helicopters went down with their load, destroying everything including the artillery pit and crew manning it.

"Nice shooting Joe. I'll recomend you for the Navy Cross for that one. Hillary Clinton won't get Huntsville with that sucker now. Rumor has it that you just killed their last Texas Gun." The company commander, Captain Ian Phellps, said calmly with a hint of respect in his voice.

"That'd be nice, sir. What'd that be for me, number four?" the sniper replied.

"Four under Phellps' command!" the machine gunner shot off, John Pothat, a man in his mid twenties with short, blonde hair. Joe was very muscular, resembling his idol, Arnold Schwartzneigger, with his muscles, skin tone, and Eastern European accent.

"Heads up!" the Captain shouted, "Yankees off the Starboard flank! Looks like about a regiment of thim. Don! Call in for arty! Down in that ridge! Ask for some napalm."

"Right Captain!" Joe screamed as he got on hs radio, "Snake Three, this is Juliet Four. Snake Three, this is Juliet Four. Come in! I have a fire mission for you. Map four, grid coordinates are as follows, Three Five Six, Six Eight Niner! I repeat, Three Five Six, Six Eight Niner! Load on WP and fire for effect!"

The platoon watched as one WP round landed right in the midst of the Yankees.

"Good Job Snake Three. Now load Nape and fire until I saw stop!"

Twenty seconds later, a screaming siren came. Her name was death spelled Artillery. She was a beautiful and repulsive demon, all depending on whose side she was on. Today, she was on the side of the South and the Yankee invaders would feel her wrath. A full spread hit the enemy regiment in their newly reorganised center, killing almost everyone there in an instant. At that same moment, a batallion of three thousand Southern men came from behind another ridge to charge the invading Northerners. They must not have realised the artillery barrage was going to continue, or just flat out ignored it. They reached the center of the bombardment the same time that the next salvo did.

"MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE!" Don screamed in pain as he understood that he had killed thousands of his own countrymen by accident.
-------------------

Don woke up in a cold sweat onboard the Pope's Boeing 747. He wished that he could forget that terrible day for even one minute. A few years ago, he drank that memory away, but the booze was almost always outlasted by the painful memory. That's why he decided to do something to repent for such a heart-wrenching crime against his own country. In the eyes of the law and man he was innocent, but Don could never forgive himself for doing such a thing. That's how he became one of the Pope's bodyguards.

Joseph had always been weak. As a child his father had told him of the Holocaust and Joseph would cry. Older children would steal everything he owned and his father had stopped caring when he was twelve. His mother was dead.

Joseph had eight brothers six had died at the age of three dysyntery was a horrible way to go. And then he was fifteen and making shoes in a sweatshop. His two younger brothers were there too and he couldn't protect them from the whips and the cold.

Antonio had died when he was eight there was no funeral his body just disappeared and Joseph ran away with Georgi. They found a monastery and stayed there Joseph learned how to fix the clocks in the monastery and went to work for Mr. Puzcek.

Joseph worked for a long time and when he had enough money Georgi and him went to America. Georgi was a genius and had made a new computer program that was so successful that he bought a house and he found his wife at a convention and they had a daughter and a son.

Joseph went back to Poland and he made clocks. But now Georgi needed him and he came.

OOC: Nice intro. Having Alabama fight I likes it.

OOC: Nice intro
===============
OOC: Cardinal Maximilian Trinacria Vetra of Italy was also on board the pope's plane. A very popular, and young, person, many have speculated that he would, should the pope die, become the pope. He was reading a book entitled "Angels and Demons." He was always a sucker for a thriller.

A decendent of the Caesars, he was not the person you would expect would join the Church.

His mother died when he was three years old, being left to be raised by his father, who was a Mason and an atheist. When his father died and Max was injured in a robbery, he was sent to a Catholic hospital in Rome, where he converted to the faith. Being faithful is what brought him to where he is now.

bump

Don, still in a cold sweat from his recurring nightmare, decided to read the book Dante's Inferno to calm his soul. For some strange reason, the book never scared this man, partially since he was Protestant and partially since he had seen the innermost rings in his own dreams.

Another bodyguard , John, said to Don, "Reading that again? I thought you had seen enough hell on the battlefield."

Don, nearly breaking down said, "Yeah." His voice cracked, "But for some reason, this book puts my soul at ease."

"I know what you mean. It makes me see where that guy I killed in '89 went. Kinda satisfing, really." Joe responded, "But I have to ask you, what's it like, being the only Protestant in history to be a bodyguard for the Pope?"

"Actually, I don't look at it that way. I just say we're all Christians here trying to protect the leader of half of Christanity. Just a duty to God and his People." Don shot back.

"Fair enough, but why do you carry that cross around? I mean, you could just carry a M-14 or another gun like the rest of us."

"Well, I must carry this cross for the sins I've committed. Its my own pennance."

"Don, you know just as well as I do that you had no way of knowing that commander was going to do what he did the same as you didn't know that the entire enemy unit would be killed by the first salvo. Don't hold yourself accountable for the actions of other men."

"But I'm the one who called in the arty. I gave that order."

"But you're not the one who ordered them to walk into the fire. That was their choice. They should have been monitoring their radios better."

"I guess you're right. I'm gonna get some sleep." Don said as he drifted back into his little dreamworld.

OOC: Expect more flashbacks from the war.

Don was back in the war, if only a memory. This time, he was in Nashville. It was a besieged city. No longer existed the Batman building, nor the Grand Ol Opry, neither did the Gaylord Center. All that was left, really, was the sewer system and a few houses. Not even the parking garages existed anymore. The Yankees had levelled everything that was bigger than 100 foot squared or over one story. Their damned cruise missiles had done it, and their satellites were hacked in revenge. The Northern troops had a taste oftheir own medicine when the cruise missiles that were supposed to support them killed off half of their armor and artillery. Now that the Yankees had seen the ferocity of the South, they were faltering. Their insolent leader had sent in droves of young men to die by the rifles of the trained and determined South. Only 2500 Southerners had died, but over 15000 Yankees had been killed over the four years of the bloody siege of the city. The North rarely had their supply lines open, never had power to heat their food, gas was nearly gone, rations and morale was low for them, and the South had finally surrounded the pitied Northerners. It was Don's platoon who had been chosen to do a deep recon to capture the enemy commander. Well, they had been undetected for a week inside Northern lines. They just posed as some replacements and forgoed all contact with their own side. Finally, their turn to act as security for the enemy commander had come. They had set up an ambush perfectly. Claymore in his tent with a corpse to take the brunt of the explosives. They'd knock out the commander and sneak him away. Then they'd detonate the Claymore and say the chewed-up corpse was him. Well, it was time and Don was scared. Every went to plan, and everybody thought that it was their commander and wondered where his protectors were. Once they had figured out who went where and what had happened, it was too late. They had taken the two-star general to HQ for interrogation. This mission, however, had made every man in his company involved a marked man.


OOC: More to come with a tank squishing someone...:D

Don was a marked man. He and his platoon were the focus of all the Northern strife at the moment. On one day alone, three batallions had come for them. Two of them had been destroyed. Don's platoon has made a tatical retreat on all three occasions, and twice it had worked beautifully by luring in the enemy into the tank and machinegun fire. The third time, the enemy had caught on and brought in their new King Abrams. The first guy to buy it was the Lieutenant. He had taken a 155mm sabot to the face, definately a closed casket funeral. The next guy was their radio operator who had replaced Joe in that regard. He took 120, .50 cal rounds. Definately overkill. Right now, however, they had to worry about a tank or their own funeral. The out-of-shape accountant who was a shotgunner just couldn't run. It showed. The tank was creepingat ten miles an hour, the accountant at four. It was a slow-moving and horrible death. In the end, the man lost over five-hundred yards of the road. His brains were in his boots and his intestines were used to grease the treads of the tank. Don had reached his own retreat line and was waiting for someone to destroy that mother.

OOC: anyone else out there?

OOC: I try posted something that was long and everything then it wouldn't let me post it DAMN!!! KILL!!!! DAMN!!!! NKAGJKANVAJ.

OOC: I am, but I haven't found a good place to come in, yet. The flashbacks are getting you nowhere, really. Progress in the plot a bit. There is nothing I can do, really."

OOC: please make this the last total OOC post. I need someone to wake him from this nightmare Derscon.

OOC: Sorry.
==============
Cardinal Vetra turned around and saw Don sweating in his sleep. He walked over and shook his shoulder.

"Hey! Wake up!"

Don woke up, with his hand reaching for his pistol. Seeing the Cardinal, he was a little shocked.
"Sorry, old reflex. Its useful though. I don't believe we've met. I'm Don Mills, the guy with the huge friggin Cross for a gun. I know you're Cardinal Ventra. How are you doing today Cardinal?"

"Nice to meet you. I was doing quite well until I saw you sweating profusely on that chair." He smiled. "I believe you soaked the headrest!"

"Wow, I did." Done said, suprised, "That usually doesn't happen when I have flashbacks. So, how were you doing before I disturbed you?"

The Cardinal laughed. "I was doing well. The tea is excellent for flights. You should try some."

"Tea? I prefer some from Long Island while not on duty....but I guess this wll have to do. Is it iced?" Don asked, his Southern Draw was apparent.

bump

"It can be," the Cardinal stated.

OOC: This seems to be going nowhere. Lets pick up the pace, shall we?

"Thank you." Don says as he drinks his iced tea. Five minutes afterwards, the plane lands and Don grabs his gun. As the pointman, his task is to kill off anyone or anything that is a direct threat to the Pope and he's the first one in a situation. Nobody is at the plane at the moment and only the Pope's flight crew is there.

"Ok, Cardinals and Bishops off first. Then security. I want a sweep done of this aricraft and twenty guards posted!" Don screamed over the intercom, "According to your station, no room for exceptions! Take heed on the blood of our brothers, we shall not fail, even to our dying breath. Now, get going!"

The 747 was cleared as a growing crowd gathered and Don took one of his men aside.

"Mississippi. I need you to stay back here and make sure that no bombs are aboard this craft. You have command of First Platoon."

"Sure Don. One question, why are we divided like the military. We're mercs now."

"That's why I lead the seructiy. I know how to make things work."

The man nicknamed "Mississippi" goes about 6 foot 2 and 275 pounds of pure muscle. He carries a Smith and Wesson 500 revolver, P90c SMG, and a sawed off double barrel in a hip holster. He is secretly a in league with an unnamed buyer who wants the Pope dead. Today, he's carrying a small block of C4 to place inside the fuel tank in the left wing.

THe Cardinal looked at the man named "Mississippi." He smiled to himself and walked off to Don.

"I was uninformed of the agenda. Where exactly are we supposed to go right now?"

Don looked at the Cardinal, "By the Popemobile for a picture."

Jospeh was with his family. They had come to see the Pope. Joseph being a Jew hadn't wanted to go but his brother, who out of love for his wife had become Catholic so he could marry her, managed to convince him to go.

Joseph stood with the crowds waiting to see the leader of half the of the Christian world...

The Cardinal, who was also preffetti (OOC: sp?), or the most favoured to become pope should the time arrive, nodded in thanks and headed to the popemobile. Some of the crowd cheered for him, and he waved back. THen he turned and watched the plane. He seemed very anxious.

Mississippi had just planted the bomb to where the whole plane would explode when detonated and gave the "All clear" signal to Don. He then took some powdered vomit powder and swallowed it. Not much for taste, but it'd do. Green couldn't even describe his face, and he began to puke his guts out.

Don saw one of men become sick and came over to him, "You ok Mississippi?"

"I don't think so...*barf* I feel horrible!"

"Auhg! Not on my shoes JERK!" Dan yelped and the two began laughing before Mississippi puked again.

"I'll get you to a hospital. Nothing but the best for my men." Don said and the ambulance arrived two minutes later.

"JOHN! You've got EOD! Take care of the plane while we go driving!" Don yelled to his number three man.

Cardinal Vetra just stood and looked at the scene as it all happened.
=============
OOC: Overglorified BUMP. Still not much I can do right now.

Don and Mississippi went to the hospital all according to plan. The Cardinals were ahead of the Pope in the parade. Vetra was leading the entire group of Cardinals, being the blessed son. A sniper lay in waiting on top of a roof for the Pope. He knew his gun couldn't penetrate the Lexan on the Popemobile, but it'd get the guy outta here. The Pope appeared at an intersection where a U-turn could be made, and that was where the ambush was to occur. The sniper watched as the car was ten feet from the intersection.

Three...two...one...now The sniper with his .308 Weatherby thought as he fired.


"SNIPER! GET ALPHA AND BRAVO OUTTA HERE!" a man yelled over the radio. The Pope was driven to his plane at the airport and Cardinal Vetra was lead to another 747. The Pope's plane was still warm and left within seconds of the Pope's arrival. He had three quarters of the Vatacan's security with him. The plane rose up quickly. one hundred feet...two hundred...three hundred...four hundred...five hun... BOOM!

The left wing seperated and its fuel ignited immeadiately. The inital blast killed the pilots and half the crew while the fuel killed off most of the mercs. The plane went into a stall, roll, and finally a painful dive. The crash was what killed off the elderly Pope. Nobody survived and a few people were little more than piles of organic goo.

Cardinal Max Vetra just stared with emotion at the television, showing the explosion.

"Oh my God," one of his aides said. "The pope's plane exploded!" The Cardinal looked nervous and sweating.

"Make sure the papal aide (I forget the real term for it) catches word. Have the Swiss guard lock down the Vatican. Make sure everything up to the Conclave goes smoothly."

"Not my job -- or yours," the one aide said.

"Then make sure the person that needs to know does."

"Don, they killed the POPE!"

"WHAT?!?!?!" Don yelled as he slammed his fist into the hospital wall, punching thru.

"Yes sir. Bomb on the wing. No survivors."

"Wing? Bomb? I hate to say it, but we have a traitor." Dan whispered to his closest friend, Tex, who was also at the hospital.

"Had to be an inside job. Had to be either John or Missipp. They were EOD and John's dead. He's the one."

Don walked to the room of his former friend, Mississippi. Tex just stood at the door to keep annyone from interfering.

"WHO PAID YOU!" Don yelled, taking his cross/gun and setting it to flamethrower mode.

"What do you mean?" Mississippi asked, indignant.

"I'll ask you one more time before I blow you to hell." Don said.

"It was an unspecified buyer."

"How much?" Don asked, lowering his gun a tad.

"Fifty million up front. Sweedish bank account. The number is in my wallet."

"Sic Semper Traitorus." Don said as he drew his pistol, attached a silencer, and fired. Nothing was left of Mississippi's head, save for a pile of goo.

THe cardinal was still en route to Vatican City when he ordered his aide to come in.

"Yes, your Emminence?"

"Find that security guard -- Don, I think is his name -- get him to contact me."

"I'll try."

Doctors and Policemen were crowding towards the room, but Tex was doing a good job of holding them back while Don burned Mississippi's body using his flamethrower. The body was burned in five minutes, thrown out the window, and the Police were then let in. They tried to arrest Don, but Tex explained the situation and the pair was immeadiately set free after being thrown out.

Dons phone then began to ring, "Mills, Vatacan....Yes, we have our man....he was a merc...inside job...dead...no real clues....anything else?.... Understood, out."

Upon landing at Rome International, the motorcade took Cardinal Vexia to Saint Peters. There, he sat and prayed alone.

Five minutes later, when he came out of the main chapel, his aide was standing there looking at him.

"There is nothing we can do," the cardinal said to the aide. "Nothing until the Conclave is held."

"Conclave?" Don asked Tex.

"Of course. That's how we Catholics choose a new Pope. Stupid Baptist..." Tex answered.

"Well, hypocrit, then why don't we hop on a jet and get to the Vatacan?"

"It's not that easy. All of our planes took off and we can't exactly waltz into an airport with all this metal we're packing." Tex said, a tad bit of sarcasm showing.

"Well then, we'll have to go cargo class." Don said as the two men laughed.

OOC: Bump. I'm just bumping right now. I don't know too much about the conclave -- give me a few days to look it up and ready for my RP of it.

Don was a marked man. He and his platoon were the focus of all the Northern strife at the moment. On one day alone, three batallions had come for them. Two of them had been destroyed. Don's platoon has made a tatical retreat on all three occasions, and twice it had worked beautifully by luring in the enemy into the tank and machinegun fire. The third time, the enemy had caught on and brought in their new King Abrams. The first guy to buy it was the Lieutenant. He had taken a 155mm sabot to the face, definately a closed casket funeral. The next guy was their radio operator who had replaced Joe in that regard. He took 120, .50 cal rounds. Definately overkill. Right now, however, they had to worry about a tank or their own funeral. The out-of-shape accountant who was a shotgunner just couldn't run. It showed. The tank was creepingat ten miles an hour, the accountant at four. It was a slow-moving and horrible death. In the end, the man lost over five-hundred yards of the road. His brains were in his boots and his intestines were used to grease the treads of the tank. Don had reached his own retreat line and was waiting for someone to destroy that mother.
During his long flight to Rome, Don ahd another flashback.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tank was quickly destroyed by a man with a Javelin missile. Joe quietly thanked God that Redstone Arsenal was in the South. The missile had torn into the underside of the tank, hitting its engine and setting the Diesiel on fire. The crew escaped to meet heavy Uzi fire from some tough Sergeant with a mean streak. Don saw the turret move.

"HEY! THEY'RE GONNA USE THE MAIN! DESTROY IT!" a Marine shouted. Don sa this as hs chance and took his last grenade in his hand. He pulled the pin while running and flipped the handle. The internal timer started counting down. Before the timer had reached three seconds left, Don threw it into the tank's 120mm gun. The Yankee saw it and closed the breach of the gun. However, he had forgotten about the HEAT round in the chamber. The grenade exploded, knocking Don back fifteen feet as well as detonating the HEAT round. The explosion and gunpowder to propel the explosive backfired and undogged the breach. This caused the main compartment to be riddled with shrapnel. The Northern soldier lived for a few minutes after climbing out of the hatch with a large hole in the side of his neck. Don and another man he had never met before went to the tank to inspect it. The new guy named John threw a flashbang inside the tank and Don went in to clear it with a pistol. He found no person alive, just the charred remains of the mechanic tending to the nearly dead engine.

"HEY TEX!" don shouted to his squadmate, who later joined up with him protecting the Pope, "Get in here and see if this gun'll still work without the engine."

Tex entered the tank, examined the gun and said, "It'll move if we get a car battery in here."

"I'll get it." The replacement, John, volunteered.

"Ok, get one from a dead Humvee. It won't need it." Tex hollered back. Ten minutes later, the FNG and the car battery appeared. Tex took the wires from the engine o the gun and put them to the new battery.

"We have power." Don said as the gun moved a little.

"Well good, because we'll need it because we have a KING ABRAMS coming!" John screamed.

"Where's that King?" Don yelled at the gunner's seat.

"ON OUR SIX! It seems to think we're dead. We are burning after all and carrying their own colors." the replacement said.

"Well, let's show them we're here." Don said, turning the turret around. The enemy tank sees this hostile act and moves their turret around as well. The enemy tank aims as does Don. Tex loads and dogs the breach quickly. Both guns fire at the same instant. Both guns were also aimed at the same point, down the barrel of each other's gun. The sabots hit in midair, spinning harmlessly to the side. Tex worked furiously to load a HEAT round and Don firred just as the breach was dogged. They were just a tad bit faster than their neighbors from the North. The Heat round slammed into the enemy tank right between the turret and the main body of the tank. The turret blew sky-hign while the body just crumpled. The three men walked out of the burning tank, flaming ammunition exploding like fireworks behind them. Don hands Joe and Tex a Cuban Cigar.

"Mission well done." Don says as he uses the flaming tank as a lighter.

"Yeah. So I guess you get that round as a souvineer..." Joe said.

"What round?" both veterans asked.

"Look between the two tanks. Y'all shot two sabots at the same time. They hit in midair."

"Well I'll be darned." Don said as he picked up the 'slightly warm' round. He put it in his pack and went back to base for some off time.

Don, Tex, and Joe were all at Central Command down in Huntsville, Alabama. There, Commandant Hagge was to present the three with the Navy Cross for their bravery and gallantry and valor. Don is holding on to a small parcel about 120mm in diameter.

The Commandant approached each man with a velvet-lined box and said, "For bravery, gallantry, loyality, quick thinking, and risk of life and limb, above and beyond the call of duty, it is my honor to present you three with the Medal of Honor. You are the first in this war. Congradulations men." The Commandant then saluted and the men barely got their own salute out.

"Uh..Commandant..." Don said, stuttering at getting the highest honor one could be bestowed, "The three of us have a gift for you. This is from where we knocked out those two tanks." Don then unwraps the parcel to show the two tank rounds that hit and he picked up earlier.
~~~~~~~
Tex nudges Don to wake him up.

"Gehbajd..What?" Don asked, groggly.

"Whatcha dreamin?"

"Something to do with your sister, a Sweedish girl, and a steam room....Really, it was when the three of us got the MOH in Nashville. I'm gonna miss John...."

"Me too...me too..." Tex muttered.

uberlamebump-5

bump

Maximillian Cardinal Vetra sat there quietly as the Cardinal Carmelengo lit the ballots already tallied, and white smoke came from the tray. They were all locked in the Sistine Chapel for Conclave, exactly fifteen days from the Pope's death.

In fact, the white smoke appeared exactly 360 hours after the death of the pope.

The Carmelengo turned to the Electors.

"By a unanamous vote, the College has elected Maximillian Cardinal Vetra to be the Successor of Peter."

A few hours later, the decision was announced to the public.

Don's cell phone rang, "Hey Don, Murf here. They just elected the new Pope. Its that Cardinal who you met on the plane. He seems a good guy."

"I got a feeling. Search his background and make sure he and Mississippi never worked together."

"Gotcha Don. We have a private jet en route to pick you up."

"Thanks Murf...I owe you one."

A few weeks later

Pope Constantine I, as his new name was, sat in the papal office going over useless documents when he stood up. He was the youngest pope ever to be elected into office, so that was actually done with ease.

He took a stroll down a street (and in street clothes) when he turned into the back of a church in Rome, outside the Vatican. There, three Jesuits were waiting for him.

"I'm glad you made it," Vetra said to the three Jesuits. They kissed his ring and bowed.

"We have, Your Holiness."

"Good. You all have work to do, and we can never meet in person again."

Don waltzed into the Pope's office. Everyone there knew him, and knew of his excessive armaments. He had scheduled to meet the new Pope in person and explain all the security arrangements he would make for every trip. This was also a test, as he was having his own men track the new Pope and report his location to him every ten minutes or whenever he called in. Annoying, yes. Necessary, HELL YES!

Don waltzed into the Pope's office. Everyone there knew him, and knew of his excessive armaments. He had scheduled to meet the new Pope in person and explain all the security arrangements he would make for every trip. This was also a test, as he was having his own men track the new Pope and report his location to him every ten minutes or whenever he called in. Annoying, yes. Necessary, HELL YES!

The pope nodded.

"Hello, Don. What can I do for you?"

"Well, sir," Don started, "I've come to talk to you about the new security procedures since the last Pope's firey demise. As of now, I've ordered my men to follow you everywhere. Even the bathroom. But don't worry, its just from protection, and now the plane will be kept warm at all times, with five fireteams protecting it." Don then shifted his weight, his pistol slightly showing.

"Well, sir," Don started, "I've come to talk to you about the new security procedures since the last Pope's firey demise. As of now, I've ordered my men to follow you everywhere. Even the bathroom. But don't worry, its just from protection, and now the plane will be kept warm at all times, with five fireteams protecting it." Don then shifted his weight, his pistol slightly showing.

The pope scanned him. "I see. Thank you." He didn't show it, but he was a bit suspisious. Why is there a heretic as chief of security? I'll need to change that soon.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, I've seen that same look in your predecessor's eye. He also wondered why a Protestant was the head of security. Its simple. I'm a faithful Christian. MY friends are Catholic. I don't want to see the most influential Christian in the World come to harm. The pay's good because I'm the best in the buisness. Now, anything else?"

"Yes, I've seen that same look in your predecessor's eye. He also wondered why a Protestant was the head of security. Its simple. I'm a faithful Christian. MY friends are Catholic. I don't want to see the most influential Christian in the World come to harm. The pay's good because I'm the best in the buisness. Now, anything else?"

The pope laughed. "Okay. And no, nothing else. You're dismissed to your duties, or, if you're off, to do whatever you feel like. God Bless."

Don left, with a salute so rusty that it looked like a ship at the bottom of the Atlantic, and went to tell his men where and how to track this new guy.

Don left, with a salute so rusty that it looked like a ship at the bottom of the Atlantic, and went to tell his men where and how to track this new guy.

When the door shut, the pope got down to work on running Vatican City, and what contemperary issues need dealt with within the Church.