#✠ il dottore ti vedrà ora — thread ;;

[malfattore]

❝ We've got to stop meeting like this. ❞ The statement is tight, half due to the weight against the speaker's chest — with the heft of his aggressor bearing down against him, back pressed to the stone column of a crumbling aqueduct, there's not much room for him to do much else other than speak — and half due to the way his throat grows dry at the very sight of Malfatto. The prowler had done his best to avoid the man for seven days. He'd ducked down side streets while out on assignments, always looking over his shoulder, he'd kept himself occupied while at the Castel Sant'Angelo, striking up conversations with servants and strangers to prevent Malfatto from ever approaching him. Now, though, in the Centro District ( the monster's favored hunting grounds ) he'd been caught.

At the sight of the doctor's pallid mask in the darkness, lenses glinting by the light of the moon, Il Lupo had turned tail and ran. In his panicked state, however, Malfatto's cunning ultimately led to his capture, and so here they stand.

Malfatto hardly understood why he suddenly no longer saw the other in where they always crossed paths…

The man who so casually flashed him a flirtatious grin between triumphant Borgia speeches, who confided in him and never held back from gently grazing his limbs in idle passing… a casual reminder of their previous moments of solitude — now, following shared laboured breaths and a nightlong series of quite-thoroughly dragged out pleasures, he suddenly found the prowler nowhere near him.

The prowler avoided him entirely, always seeming to cling to someone else, rather than even look at him… and had even shared pleasantries with the doctor’s own enemies rather to even look at him again. He couldn’t understand and the chance to get answers was something he couldn’t pass up.

As if his life depended on this one thing, He set out on a hunt — to which, a few accurate predictions of the prowler’s odd movements, fate finally granted him the chance.

With enough force to hurt, gloved hands snatched the prowler’s wrists and pulled him back towards him, forcing his form into the stone wall that shielded them from the rest of the world. He wasted not a second before ripping his mask off — caring not for the decision to break off the weakened band that held his mask in place — before he collided with the other. His lips offering no such gentleness until his mind suddenly caught up with his actions, cupping the other man’s cheek as he towered over his lover; A mimicry of previous affections, and like food to a starving man, he quickly grew thankful and gentle to not lose each crumb he was given after all this time.

It felt like forever, yet no time at all, before he knew this had lasted too long, desperately starved lips indulging a few moments more, before pushing himself off with a gentle sigh…

“Answer me, no more running. What am I to you?” The words, in direct contrast to how he felt in that moment, felt like boiling acid… tearing at the flesh of his parted and love damp lips.

[malfattore]

[ ✠ Closed RP w/ @larosafatale && @operatus ]

Borgia parties always held their own as prestigious, rowdy, and above all, filthy; Even more so with Juan Borgia in charge. Cardinals, nobles and agents arrived by the dozens, more and more by the minute, flooding the halls with laughter and conversation — some soon after, easily categorized as drunken nonsense and other... vocalizations.

Castel Sant’Angelo was decorated as fit — Vibrant red and gold banners streaming down from the ceiling above, brightly lit candles and chandeliers spread around to battle the night, and chestnuts littering the floor for the courtesans to gather in due time.

Though it could be said about any party thrown by the Borgia family, this particular one signified an special occasion... calling for every cardinal, every nobleman of choice, and every Templar agent.

That occasion... was a victory.

A vain celebration, influenced by none other than Cesare Borgia himself. His successful attacks on cities all across Italia left the man aching for recognition and celebration — And, It wasn’t hard to convince his dear captain, Juan, to throw a party.

—

Malfatto was placed at the sidelines, tending to injuries in an attempt to drown out the sound and mood of the party; A task not easily accomplished as most partygoers stayed far from the Borgia‘s reserved seating, most approaching the basic street doctors hired to keep the party a bit safer... leaving him with idle hands and eyes that wandered, keenly aware.

He was the only doctor here that was employed by Cesare Borgia himself... After the man learned of his skills in medicine, Malfatto was ordered to keep all his agents safe, or else punishment would exceed far more than his own personal conflicts.

With a typical doctor’s stance — albeit, a bit less proper and attention grabbing — he stood at the sidelines and watched the crowd carefully... awaiting the family’s appearance.

[malfattore]

With each passing step, Malfatto noticed the woman growing increasingly tense, her body unmoving as she seemingly taunted his motions… earning her a narrowed gaze and a steadfast pace in response, as he closed the distance between the two of them.

It only took him a second before he coiled his leather fingers around her right hand, catching it before she could act upon any motion — this same hand that weaponised itself and tore through his skin, marring his chest for evermore, now caught between his empty hands — as he twisted it upward and close the distance between them even more.

She must know he cannot kill her, not in such a public setting, where Borgia suspicion would find his throat at the gallows after Cesare’s outrage; Likewise, though, She could not harm him again. Rodrigo would not have it.

The lack of power in the situation infuriated him, to have her in his grasp and so close to what he had aimed for since after he foolishly spared her life, yet still unable to end it now; He even pondered dragging her away, tightening his grasp yet again — to the point of bruising — at the repetitive realization that he cannot.

“Hai un desiderio di morte.” The words seeped from his mask like a fog… low and dense.

(cont’d) // @medicus-tenebris​

Under any other circumstances, Fiora would avoid the man, a part of her screams to leave to just turn back and walk away as if nothing happened. Whatever compelled her to stay made her question herself greatly. Fiora stays stone-faced though she clenches her hands into tight fists, nails digging sharp crescents into her palms to focus her attention elsewhere so her hands don’t shake as violently from the overwhelming fear coursing through her veins.

She stays quiet for a long time, allowing the silence to linger in the air, almost mimicking his body language Fiora also tilts her head continuing to only stare at him.

[malfattore]

To his genuine, but rather dull surprise, The nightstalker fought back against his binds — against the toxin in his veins, enough to take down a large animal... and somehow, he broke free and scrambled to his feet.

That was all he needed to know, that something — to him, it didn’t matter what — had somehow altered this man’s body and gave him the strength to do such things. The fact that the rumours of this power were true was unnerving enough, more so than the man possessing it.

This nightstalker had something to hide about himself, or perhaps he was just infuriatingly secretive about even the smallest details.

Without wasting another second, Malfatto grabbed the man as he recovered, slamming him up against a nearby wall — using his own body to keep him in place.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He asked, growling into his words as he tightened his grip around the other.

medicus-tenebris‌:

“That’s irrelevant.” Malfatto spat back, ignoring the man’s writhing agony as he shuffled through his tools in a drawer just below the nightstalker’s body — retrieving multiple blades and placing them beside his working space.

“I know the human body. You should not be able to sustain yourself like this.”

Without much of another word, he pulled out another syringe, flicking at its end carefully to get the results he wished.

There was no taking chances with someone like him. He had little to no idea how his body worked but he planned to examine him — One way or another. If he had to cut him into pieces and kill him, so be it; He’d no longer be a problem and the Borgia wouldn’t have to know.

“By all means, keep quiet. I prefer to work in the quiet anyways.” He stated, wasting no time with the next dosage as he pierced the man’s forearm; a substance to confuse and visually impair.

And with that, the doctor secured him down even further, being quite cautious in not taking any chances.

His options truly had just been cut short, and Joe remained as quiet as he could manage with the agony burning up beneath his skin, eyes watching Malfatto warily. His jaw grit as the needle dug into his skin, fingers clenching into his palm to form a tight fist.

No time was wasted as his free hand was twisted around, fist formed equally and rope stretched above his joint. A short breath, and he pulled up as hard as he could muster, feeling the muscle and tendon between bones screaming before the rope snapped, not a moment too soon.

The edges of once clear objects began to blur, shapes becoming smoothed out and hazy. A weak snarl escaped Joe as he reached down, straining to swipe a weapon and cut himself free, ignoring the agony in his wrist. It wasn’t broken, but it was certainly fractured.

Metal clattered to the floor as Joe pushed himself from the table, falling to his knees and pulling himself up shakily, breathing hard. Everything hurt–breathing hurt, moving ached, and his muscles screamed from the poison that had settled into the tissue. But he was up, and his heart was still beating; that was all he needed. “With all the love in my heart, doctor? Go fuck yourself.”

[malfattore]

The doctor’s eyes narrowed even more as the stranger spoke, observing Guiliano carefully as he continued on and on. His tone was strangely friendly, playful and even welcoming... It was odd, in comparison to how he was typically confronted by couriers and the like.

“—Why were you watching, if you had something to deliver?” Malfatto inquired curiously, eyebrow peaking unconsciously — almost judgementally.

Despite asking for more of an explanation, Malfatto wanted nothing more than to be out of this situation. The idea of being outnumbered, at such close of range, unnerved him, and while he could defend himself against most, he had no idea what these men were capable of; if they were enemies of the Templars.

That much was... very unclear, as of right now.

medicus-tenebris‌:

It wasn’t uncommon for a Templar agent to approach him in the dead of night, typically seeking some sort of profit — or aid. Most always, they kept any interaction brief and to the point… especially if they knew of him. Not many made an effort to stay near the infamous monster of Roma for too long, but this agent seemed to linger just long enough for him to notice an issue — that someone was most definitely watching them.

A heavy confusion laced the agent’s face as he was promptly guided elsewhere and shooed away, but none the less, it allowed Malfatto to round a corner and wait in the dense shadows of Roma’s alleyways.

Thankfully, It didn’t take long for the stalker to pursue, jumping down and surprisingly pursuing on ground level…

As soon as he was in range, the doctor lunged and slammed his weight against the other’s back — swiftly taking the young man’s wrist and pinning it at the base of his spine; More than enough to cause discomfort.

He was dressed oddly… and his methods of approach seemed to match. Was it a slip up or was this something else entirely? He needed to know.

Amidst his confusion, another man approached and forced the doctor to pull back slightly — keeping his syringe to himself for now.

“…Who are you?” Malfatto asked bluntly, squinting his eyes at the man before him,

“—Both of you, for that matter.”

Giuliano, ever doing his best to be unfazed by the unexpected, simply gave the doctor a disarming smile as he motioned peacefully, arms raised slightly to indicate he meant no harm. For all accounts and purposes he looked like a charming nobleman fetching his apprentice. And enough of that was the truth that usually the ruse worked flawlessly.

“My name is Giuliano, this is my apprentice Emile. I tasked him with bringing a letter to the signore, discreetly if possible, for it is of importance that he receives it without interception. It is why I prefer not to use any plain courier if I can, they are ever so prone to being pick pocketed I’m afraid.”

Tone light, voice somewhat playful, clearly lamenting the unreliability of the city’s postal system. Emile keep his silence beside him, knowing better than to speak out of turn while his mentor was crafting his act. The boy still found it remarkable to watch his mentor behave like this, despite being trained in theatre for this selfsame purpose himself.

“He carries the letter in his breast pocket,” Giuliano continued, “should you need proof, but I’m afraid the sensitive nature of its contents disallows me from letting you read it. I’m sure you understand, signor dottore.” A small incline of his head followed, ever respectful even to someone a fool would dismiss as lesser even if purely due to their current location.

A contact of Templars should never be underestimated after all.

[malfattore]

Tonight, the light of the moon was faint, softly leaking down between the crevices of Roma’s alleyways — its shadows drowning the city in a dense and suffocating darkness.

Though, for him... It made it easier to navigate. To stay out of sight. To follow.

And she caught his attention immediately.

Another courtesan wandering the streets, despite what he had left behind as a warning.

What she was up to made little difference to him... Those plans would change — All that mattered was in her head. What she could tell him about that wretch who cowered behind her brother’s power; Who employed the most vile of women and somehow still proved herself to be of greater toxicity. Every courtesan he had killed or threatened, all pointed to the same person. Madonna Solari. A somewhat familiar name, perhaps even in his youth...

Regardless, She was a problem now — Even if she was not the root of the problem, she was a large branch. A branch he intended to break.

With his syringe gripped tightly between steady gloved fingers, he followed her and waited for the right time to interrogate...

@medicus-tenebris

It had been a slow evening at La Rosa in Fiore, Fiora had seen little clientele coming and going. Solari had gathered all the girls earlier in the day and told them in no uncertain terms that if they couldn’t meet the quota that week they might be paid a visit by Santino, the thought of it brought unease to her. She knows just how brutal of a man he can be. Still Fiora counted the days until she could finally leave the brothel behind. 

She quietly lifted the window to her room and hopped down to the ground floor, Fiora is thankful that none of the other girls cared enough to snitch on each other if they escaped the brothel even if it’s for a few hours. The stress and horrible conditions of the brothel made the outside one of their only ways to escape. Fiora inhales deeply and stretches her back before she runs off into the alleyways avoiding the main streets just in case Santino was watching. 

Once she’s far enough Fiora takes a pause to catch her breath and laugh. It always an exhilarating feeling to be free from that hell, once she got the laughter out of her and breath returned to her lungs she walked towards the main street and wherever else was illuminated.

[malfattore]

Glaring down at the other man, Malfatto nonchalantly pulled the blade’s sharpened edge across this throat, inflicting a deep, but repairable wound — Just enough so that he could keep talking, albiet with some trouble.

If he was truly what was rumoured of him, he would have to fix himself. Quickly.

If he was a fake, then... tragic.

“Not quite.” The doctor replied, the emotion in his voice still lacking as he reached aside and took a syringe between his fingers, lifting it to his face and flicking its end.

“Rumours always seem to have some shed of truth to them— and you underestimate me, as a fool who lacks creditable sources.”

His gloved fingers wrapped around the man’s theoat, pressing down gentle, then hard... allowing the syringe’s end to pierce his collar and let its contents free.

It wouldn’t kill him, far from it, but the pain would encourage him to speak — and maybe to heal the source as well. He’d tested it before, it amplified all sensations, and large dosages such as that quickly led to withdrawal.

“Now talk. Unless you wish to simply bleed out on my table.”

medicus-tenebris‌:

His office smelled of herbs and medicine, alit by only the necessary amount of lanterns, giving him a clear sight of his newest patient — as well as the perfect conditions to analyze the other’s features. Though, he wouldn’t cease this the entire way through.

—

The doctor’s head slowly lifted from his work, syringe firmly locked between gloved fingers as he moved to the man’s side.

“Information.” The doctor’s voice sounded, his tone lacking any emotion as he glared down at the man; His eyes still hazy and unfocused from the drugs administered beforehand.

To be expected.

His free hand reached forward and checked the man’s pulse, forcing his head up with it, before retracting once again — It was frantic… but he was healthy, just afraid. His body gave away those answers, but they weren’t what he sought.

Without a second thought, Malfatto pulled the ropes tighter, nearly constricting the blood flow of his skinny limbs to the table — Not that he needed to, this man’s figure was hardly more than toned muscle on bone… but he wasn’t going to leave here without giving him everything he wanted.

“I’ve been told you don’t die.” He began, bringing a small surgery blade up to his lenses before placing it coldly against the man’s jugular…

“I expect you to elaborate on that.”

“Information.” Joe echoes, though his voice lilts with a hazy amusement; the poison still working its way out of his system. He tries to jerk away from the hand that grabs him, staring the doctor down quietly until the ropes are pulled tighter–forcing a pained hiss out of Joe. His fingers clawed at the table uselessly, the faintest creak of leather clothes reacting to the taut rope around his wrists and ankles.

It takes him a second to settle, and the knife against neck barely has him reacting. “That’s a shame, given there’s nothing to elaborate on. Whoever told you that clearly lied to you, and since you’re a doctor, you should know better. So there’s your information, can I go now?”

[malfattore]

His office smelled of herbs and medicine, alit by only the necessary amount of lanterns, giving him a clear sight of his newest patient — as well as the perfect conditions to analyze the other’s features. Though, he wouldn’t cease this the entire way through.

—

The doctor’s head slowly lifted from his work, syringe firmly locked between gloved fingers as he moved to the man’s side.

“Information.” The doctor’s voice sounded, his tone lacking any emotion as he glared down at the man; His eyes still hazy and unfocused from the drugs administered beforehand.

To be expected.

His free hand reached forward and checked the man’s pulse, forcing his head up with it, before retracting once again — It was frantic... but he was healthy, just afraid. His body gave away those answers, but they weren’t what he sought.

Without a second thought, Malfatto pulled the ropes tighter, nearly constricting the blood flow of his skinny limbs to the table — Not that he needed to, this man’s figure was hardly more than toned muscle on bone... but he wasn’t going to leave here without giving him everything he wanted.

“I’ve been told you don’t die.” He began, bringing a small surgery blade up to his lenses before placing it coldly against the man’s jugular...

“I expect you to elaborate on that.”

medicus-tenebris‌:

[ ✠ Closed RP // @eyesintheshadows ]

After numerous failed attempts to capture the so-called nightstalker, the Borgia passed the task down into his hands, to someone suited to the dark streets of Roma — And, specifically, someone to test the limits of the nightstalker’s resilience. As this man didn’t simply die… but that would prove no issue.

The alleyways of the poor district were like a maze, twisting and turning like an inescapable nightmare, but one that the doctor had etched into his mind, able to navigate without a single error — from any starting point.

It was only a matter of time until this man wandered into these alleyways… and tonight was that night.

With thick shadows as his cover, and light footing, Malfatto followed the other — as silent as a ghost — cautiously moving closer and closer…

Finally, he saw an opening, swiftly stepping out of his cover and slamming his victim up against the nearest wall, head first — leaving no time for the man to retaliate before the syringe pierced his flesh, emptying it’s contents into his throat. Malfatto’s large arms kept him firmly in place, holding his mouth closed tight; Until finally, the poison took hold and robbed him of his consciousness…

With a slight twitch of a smile appearing beneath the mask, the doctor let the man’s unconscious body go limp, easily lifting him in his arms — somewhat surprised at how light he was…

It would require even less to get him to talk, in this case.

It was a quick and effortless trip back to his office, hardly bothering to avoid the guards, as they wouldn’t question a doctor of his patient’s condition.

Pushing the door of his clinic open, he quickly began working — Gloved hands worked rope around his doctor’s table, securely fastening his victim’s body down; tight enough to hurt, to bend, to stretch. He wouldn’t allow this man any comfort until he gave him what he wanted.

The pain would bring him back… eventually; But with the large dosage given, it would take a while longer.

The doctor had patience, in abundance.

He could wait.

Italy wasn’t Joe’s preferred area to roam, and it showed in how uncomfortable he felt when he traveled. He kept closer to the corners, to side streets, and glanced over his shoulder much more than someone like him had any right to be doing. The darker areas, poorer districts, he avoided like a true plague.

Yet he didn’t quite know why until chills ran down his back a moment too late, and his head collided with the brick before him. Lights burst before his eyes, hands pressing to the stone in a fight-or-flight instinct to try and push his assailant away and get himself out from being pinned; it proved futile as cold metal cut through his scarf, pierced into his skin.

Eyes widened as he choked out, the poison spreading through him much faster than anything he’d felt before. It didn’t take long for him to fall limp, and when he awoke, his head pounded. A weak groan escapes him, and he doesn’t even need to try moving his arms to know he was fastened down. An assault like that, it only meant he was being taken captive.

God, he hated Italy already.

The place was still dark, and he guessed that it was still nighttime; his eyesight slowly focused, and he gingerly lifted his head, looking around. “What the fuck do you want?”

[malfattore]

Malfatto pulled back slightly, his eyes glancing sideward to meet the other’s own — laced with agony, yet still seemed so empty... Their colour unnatural.

Instead of complying, his thumb twitched and forced more into his system; fully aware of what this would do the other’s body.

“If you have the strength to beg, you can talk. I’ll yield when you give me what I need to get the Borgia off my case.” He replied coldly.

It was obvious that this man was dangerous and it became very apparent why many couldn’t take him down easily — He had little motivation to deliver such a weapon straight to the Borgia, regardless of their orders to deliver him alive.

It was better to tell his personal allies of this man’s abilities and deliver a lie to why the victim escaped... not deliver him straight to their doorstep. He cared not for the punishment for his lies and decisions — He hardly ever did.

“—Once you tell me, I’ll let you go.”

medicus-tenebris‌:

The nightstalker’s insult was met with mere silence and a sideward glance — vivid green eyes locking onto the other’s expression for only a moment before returning to his work, his focus undeterred.

Pain laced his victim’s whole being, lingering in his face as his limbs wracked from the poison coursing through his veins, only urging the doctor to press down on his weapon’s end — forcing more of the toxins into his system.

He knew the human body better than anyone — countless victims and years of medical training surgery, and even torture; he knew what a man of his health and stature could handle… And, yet, despite such a dosage, and the wound at his throat… he still tugged at his ropes. Still retained his ample strength, despite the blood that slowly drained from his body…

“Enough of your stubborn tongue.” He spat back, a hand forcing the man’s jaw upward and leaving the wound exposed — his thumb pressing down, forcing the rest of the syringe’s contents through the chamber.

“If you’re already able to handle more than the average man, I wonder how far I can push you before you finally collapse.” He leaned closer, roughly yanking the syringe from his flesh.

“—or will you be able to handle anything I do?”

A weak gasp is all that escapes in response, the burning that coursed through his veins intensifying as the poison continues to spread. He can feel every little pulse and quiver of his heart struggling against the concoction, feel his muscles shrieking as it permeates the tissue and attempts to eat away at him.

The wound at his throat is the least of his concerns.

Pride be damned, he thinks, and manages to give another gasp, hands shaking as they strain. “No more–I yield, no more–” Even if he knows he can take substantially more, he needs time to heal. Needs time to think, to actually work on his escape. He just needs time.

[malfattore]

The nightstalker’s insult was met with mere silence and a sideward glance — vivid green eyes locking onto the other’s expression for only a moment before returning to his work, his focus undeterred.

Pain laced his victim’s whole being, lingering in his face as his limbs wracked from the poison coursing through his veins, only urging the doctor to press down on his weapon’s end — forcing more of the toxins into his system.

He knew the human body better than anyone — countless victims and years of medical training surgery, and even torture; he knew what a man of his health and stature could handle... And, yet, despite such a dosage, and the wound at his throat... he still tugged at his ropes. Still retained his ample strength, despite the blood that slowly drained from his body...

“Enough of your stubborn tongue.” He spat back, a hand forcing the man’s jaw upward and leaving the wound exposed — his thumb pressing down, forcing the rest of the syringe’s contents through the chamber.

“If you’re already able to handle more than the average man, I wonder how far I can push you before you finally collapse.” He leaned closer, roughly yanking the syringe from his flesh.

“—or will you be able to handle anything I do?”

medicus-tenebris‌:

Glaring down at the other man, Malfatto nonchalantly pulled the blade’s sharpened edge across this throat, inflicting a deep, but repairable wound — Just enough so that he could keep talking, albeit with some trouble.

If he was truly what was rumoured of him, he would have to fix himself. Quickly.

If he was a fake, then… tragic.

“Not quite.” The doctor replied, the emotion in his voice still lacking as he reached aside and took a syringe between his fingers, lifting it to his face and flicking its end.

“Rumours always seem to have some shed of truth to them— and you underestimate me, as a fool who lacks creditable sources.”

His gloved fingers wrapped around the man’s throat, pressing down gentle, then hard… allowing the syringe’s end to pierce his collar and let its contents free.

It wouldn’t kill him, far from it, but the pain would encourage him to speak — and maybe to heal the source as well. He’d tested it before, it amplified all sensations, and large dosages such as that quickly led to withdrawal.

“Now talk. Unless you wish to simply bleed out on my table.”

The bite of the blade isn’t terrible, given how many wounds Joe’s sustained throughout his existence, and yet the warmth of blood welling up and trickling steadily down his neck has his jaw clenching, one eye twitching just slightly. It wouldn’t kill him, not if the doctor left it alone. But keeping it open, or slicing deeper…well, that was another story.

The fingers squeezing his throat have teeth baring, finally straining and struggling against the ropes pulled taut on his limbs, eyes closing tightly. That same familiar burning began to surge through his body, and while it didn’t knock him out, it amplified the ache from the wound on his neck.

If he just had a few minutes alone, to gather his bearings without being distracted–well, tortured, but semantics never much mattered to him in the physicality of things–he could find a way to break free. The knots on the ropes were crafted expertly, that much he could tell, but if he could just get some time to test things, he could figure them out.

“Fuck you.”

[malfattore]

It wasn’t uncommon for a Templar agent to approach him in the dead of night, typically seeking some sort of profit — or aid. Most always, they kept any interaction brief and to the point... especially if they knew of him. Not many made an effort to stay near the infamous monster of Roma for too long, but this agent seemed to linger just long enough for him to notice an issue — that someone was most definitely watching them.

A heavy confusion laced the agent’s face as he was promptly guided elsewhere and shooed away, but none the less, it allowed Malfatto to round a corner and wait in the dense shadows of Roma’s alleyways.

Thankfully, It didn’t take long for the stalker to pursue, jumping down and surprisingly pursuing on ground level...

As soon as he was in range, the doctor lunged and slammed his weight against the other’s back — swiftly taking the young man’s wrist and pinning it at the base of his spine; More than enough to cause discomfort.

He was dressed oddly... and his methods of approach seemed to match. Was it a slip up or was this something else entirely? He needed to know.

Amidst his confusion, another man approached and forced the doctor to pull back slightly — keeping his syringe to himself for now.

“...Who are you?” Malfatto asked bluntly, squinting his eyes at the man before him,

“—Both of you, for that matter.”

plotted starter for @medicus-tenebris

Giuliano cursed softly under his breath as Emile tardied. The boy was one of his best students and had eagerly taken to his tutelage and the idea of actively taking down Templars instead of sitting idly by as the ’adults’ handled matters.

He’d managed to build a strong following, and while some of his young Crows had decided to remain in Venice, the rest had followed him to Rome, where he’d finally dared return to set things right and make that bastard Cesare pay for ever turning on his then-loyal soldiers. It was a pity none were left now but him… At least as far as he knew.

The loyalty those youngsters had for him had caused him to be far more protective of them than he’d ever intended to be, which was why he was headed for Emile’s whereabouts now. If the Templar had spotted him, Emile should have been able to fight himself free but if not then he’d call in the others and dispose of the scum.

Having been pointed in the right direction by one of his scouts, Giuliano smoothly descended from the rooftops and headed into the district. He’d never liked this place, but was thankfully familiar enough to navigate it without too much difficulty. Seeing the doctor threatening his lad he quickly stepped in.

“There you are, Emile! I was wondering where you’d gone… He didn’t cause you any trouble, did he signore?” There unfortunately wasn’t much to appraise when it came to the man, as the mask and garb were near identical to those worn by doctors across Rome.

Should any questions arise however, he did have each of his crows carrying an alibi at all times. If Emile had been caught here, that indicated this doctor was an ally of the Templars, how interesting… He’d have to attempt to establish ties with the man.