"This world is a world for three different kinds of people: the predators, the prey, and the scum sucking leeches at the bottom of the food chain," Roman growled under his breath as he stalked the dimly lit streets. Unable to shake the feeling of utter disgust he felt whenever people lived up to his expectations. "Trust me, Rome, this is gonna be a huge break for us!" Vincent had said when he had taken Roman's last few bucks for an "investment". Roman had gone back for his share today of the investment. Vinnie told him that the investment went sour and then proceeded to put a gun to Roman's head. Vinnie's bodyguards were probably finding their boss right now. He had left Vinnie with a broken nose and a few ribs but the little bastard was still alive. A long time ago, that would have been different story. Vinnie would have been draped across his desk with a bullet hole in his head, Roman thought to himself. Roman then snorted at the thought, a few years ago he wouldn't be so drunk off his ass that a drug lord wannabe could swindle him out of his drinking money.
"Damn." He kicked at a glass bottle that lay in his path, shattering it beneath his boot. Now he had no money and that meant no booze. That's why I'm so pissed right now, he thought as he stepped over the shards of glass. I needed that money for booze. That Bulldog doesn't do shit anymore, I need something stronger to stop me from remembering he thought to himself.
Roman turned a corner and jumped, his hand falling to his thigh as a black cat rocketed out of a trash can in front of him, spilling the contents all over his boots. Grumbling under his breath Roman pulled his feet out of the mound of broken bottles, leaking milk cartons, and rotting god-knows-what when a small book caught his eye at the edge of the upturned can.
The cover was frayed and wrinkled with age, pages yellowed at the edges from the fingers that had once turned its pages. On its front Holy Bible gleamed in speckled fading gold. Slipping the good book into his pocket Roman sighed, the bitter resentment that seemed to plague him tonight dissipating. Stepping out onto the main street, he slipped his hands into his pockets, one hand closing around the small bible. The cover was cold to the touch and the wrinkled leather chafed against his palm reassuringly as he turned on his heel to head towards the little Orthodox church at the end of 6th street.
A couple walking down the street, a young man and woman, drew in a deep breath and huddled closer together as he passed them by, the man's arm draped over the woman's as he watched Roman out of the corner of his eye. Ignoring them he continued on his way. Their fearful looks he could deal with, fear kept pathetic individuals at an arm's length. It was those other looks he couldn't stand.
The pity, the hatred, the disgust...
He knew what he looked like and he knew by average standards he looked like hell. His face was a mask of scars, the most recent of which still oozed blood from time to time in the dry winter air. Combine that with his 6' 6'' height and he knew he looked like some Saw IV refugee. His black hair was uncombed and stuck up at odd angles.
The scar on his cheek twitched, it was the oldest, nearly faded into obscurity with time, and Roman grimaced. That twitch could only mean snow. Gathering the torn military jacket around his shoulders he picked up his pace, the ouroboros stitched into the back flexed and recoiled as he moved. The words Sine metu, sinemisericordia, et fratres mei were scrawled across his shoulder blades. Loosely translated to Without Fear, Without Mercy, With My brothers, the words were a fading memory of the years he had spent with his men.
A group of highly trained misfits he and his men had taken pride in what they did. They had put bullets to skulls, knives to throats, and blown shit up. Their targets had ranged from slavery ring leaders, heads of drug cartels and the odd crooked politician. They'd been a rough bunch, but all were fiercely loyal to one another. As their leader, Roman had taken more than one bullet meant to take one of them from him.
