Collected from around the World and indoctrinated into a systematical believe in a higher power the Children of the Vault, thee premier young chorister group of the the Vatican harmonized in unison. Ushering in a single file line of clandestine warriors through the church halls, their ceremonial white, red, and black decorated garb concealing their faces while traditional monks, heads shaven around the top with portly bellies lead the way. One by one they knelt before the Arch Bishop and waited as he looked upon them, tapping their shoulder to be excused except for one, Faustus Octavius. A dedicated dealer of the faith unequaled in the art of swordsmanship and leader of the underground Illuminati known as the Vatican Assassins. Trained from birth through a mixture of holy Roman tradition as well as arcane magic which granted them extraordinary abilities and heightened reflexes. Their soul mission to eradicate any and all appointed evil as demanded by the Church.
"Walk with me my son." the Bishop commanded. His red cloak fitted loosely over his head slightly distorting his peripheral vision yet adding a slight heir of dignity as the shadows seemingly maneuvered around the light covering portions of his face regardless of the angle. "It has been three years and still you have not delivered me a single LeBeau. The Church is beginning to suspect that perhaps you have lost the faith? Despite the accusation Faustus remained silent, his hands tucked deeply within his oversized robe. "You have the training, you have the weapons, and now" pausing while removing a tightly bound scroll from his side pocket, "You have ones location." A simple nod proceeded the exchange, and with that, Faustus took his leave. Charged with the impossible task of ending the lives of the LeBeau family. Their formation of the OsC and revelation that the Virgin Mary herself was an assassin had been strictly forbidden yet ignored igniting a shadowy rivalry concealed from the rest of the World.
Outskirts of Paris:
Window shopping had always been one of Angelique's vises ever since the days of Esther's flourishing political career. Fashion was a premium in the house of LeBeau and Angelique more then most had an eye for the exotically bold choices. Yet this passion had allowed her to wander into a self-induced state of absent mindlessness shielding her otherwise acute sense of awareness to the danger ahead....
(to be continued)
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