Post by Deleted on May 8, 2011 23:27:05 GMT
(This thread may not be subject to story lines. Open to all.)
Rome
October – 1943
The train carriage rocked and rattled as it rolled along the tracks, pulled by the powerful engine at the front, it was one of twenty carriages that swayed about on the tracks full of people. Everyone on the train was in a military uniform or some sort, and most of those uniforms where the dark grey of the German elite forces. There were a few other colours about and they stood out like small beacons against the sea of grey. One such beacon was Sanson Cleto, who was sitting with his gazed locked out the window, looking at the passing terrain but not really seeing it. His shoulders where slumped and he was leaning forward a bit as if struggling with depression or dreading something that was going to happen.
It had taken him several attempts to get on the train in the first place, not because it was packed, but it seemed like there was a barrier at the door to the carriage. Something he just couldn’t get through. Each time he had tried to get on he would step up onto the step and take hold of the handhold, ready to pull him up and through the door. But each time had froze up, and would just stand there for a minute or two before letting go and stepping down again. He was lucky that the other carriages had been unloading passengers and small freight when he was facing this dilemma. Eventually it took a rough Germans hand pushing him from the back to propel him forward and through the invisible barrier that had been stopping him from getting on the train.
So now he sat there, still and unmoving save for the rocking of the train as it hurtled along the tracks, taking him closer and closer to the one place he never thought he would go again, to see the one person he had never thought to see again. A strange thought popped into Sanson’s head at that moment, completely out of place and off track from his train of through. He looked about the carriage and frowned to himself. The number of Germans going to Rome severely outnumbered the number of actual Italians. Grateful for the distracting thought he looked around again and took in more detail of the other passengers, most of them in this car where SS troops, with a few Heer soldiers as well. The higher-ranking officers would have a carriage all to themselves no doubt, but it did strike him as odd that so many Germans would rather visit Rome then to go home for their leave.
The hiss of the breaks broke his thoughts and he looked out the window. They where pulling up at one of the outer stations in Rome, and Sanson got to his feet and took down his overnight bag from the luggage rack. He was not planning on being in Rome any longer then he needed too. He climbed down from the train without needed a push and joined the flow of people moving off the station. A few minutes later the train departed and the people scattered away to their cars or walked off down the street. Sanson stood out the front of the station for a while. Looking in both directions for a little while and getting his bearings. He should have gotten off at a station further in the city, but he wasn’t in a hurry to get to where he was going.
With a sigh he slung his bag over his shoulder and started trudging along the footpath towards the center of the city. As he walked he pulled out an envelope and looked at it again. Reading the return address he changed course and headed west. Passing a pub he paused for a moment, looking into the establishment and wondering if he would have time. Of course he would have time, he was in no rush, and any excuse to have a drink was a good one. With that mentality he pushed open the door and stepped into the pub.
It was a simple place, the walls where mostly bare and the waitresses where plane looking. The Bartender behind the counter was old and bald with a large moustache and friendly face. With little hesitation Sanson walked up to the counter and ordered a pint and placed a note on the bar top. With quick fluid movements the barkeep picked up a glass, poured the beverage and placed it in front of Sanson with a friendly smile and a wink and took the money, returning with the change and the same smile, but never saying a word.
Sanson pocketed the money and picked up his pint, strolling past a few patrons who where deep in conversation and seating himself near a window. The sky looked cold and grey outside, threatening to let loose a downpour at any moment. The perfect weather for a miserable day.
Rome
October – 1943
The train carriage rocked and rattled as it rolled along the tracks, pulled by the powerful engine at the front, it was one of twenty carriages that swayed about on the tracks full of people. Everyone on the train was in a military uniform or some sort, and most of those uniforms where the dark grey of the German elite forces. There were a few other colours about and they stood out like small beacons against the sea of grey. One such beacon was Sanson Cleto, who was sitting with his gazed locked out the window, looking at the passing terrain but not really seeing it. His shoulders where slumped and he was leaning forward a bit as if struggling with depression or dreading something that was going to happen.
It had taken him several attempts to get on the train in the first place, not because it was packed, but it seemed like there was a barrier at the door to the carriage. Something he just couldn’t get through. Each time he had tried to get on he would step up onto the step and take hold of the handhold, ready to pull him up and through the door. But each time had froze up, and would just stand there for a minute or two before letting go and stepping down again. He was lucky that the other carriages had been unloading passengers and small freight when he was facing this dilemma. Eventually it took a rough Germans hand pushing him from the back to propel him forward and through the invisible barrier that had been stopping him from getting on the train.
So now he sat there, still and unmoving save for the rocking of the train as it hurtled along the tracks, taking him closer and closer to the one place he never thought he would go again, to see the one person he had never thought to see again. A strange thought popped into Sanson’s head at that moment, completely out of place and off track from his train of through. He looked about the carriage and frowned to himself. The number of Germans going to Rome severely outnumbered the number of actual Italians. Grateful for the distracting thought he looked around again and took in more detail of the other passengers, most of them in this car where SS troops, with a few Heer soldiers as well. The higher-ranking officers would have a carriage all to themselves no doubt, but it did strike him as odd that so many Germans would rather visit Rome then to go home for their leave.
The hiss of the breaks broke his thoughts and he looked out the window. They where pulling up at one of the outer stations in Rome, and Sanson got to his feet and took down his overnight bag from the luggage rack. He was not planning on being in Rome any longer then he needed too. He climbed down from the train without needed a push and joined the flow of people moving off the station. A few minutes later the train departed and the people scattered away to their cars or walked off down the street. Sanson stood out the front of the station for a while. Looking in both directions for a little while and getting his bearings. He should have gotten off at a station further in the city, but he wasn’t in a hurry to get to where he was going.
With a sigh he slung his bag over his shoulder and started trudging along the footpath towards the center of the city. As he walked he pulled out an envelope and looked at it again. Reading the return address he changed course and headed west. Passing a pub he paused for a moment, looking into the establishment and wondering if he would have time. Of course he would have time, he was in no rush, and any excuse to have a drink was a good one. With that mentality he pushed open the door and stepped into the pub.
It was a simple place, the walls where mostly bare and the waitresses where plane looking. The Bartender behind the counter was old and bald with a large moustache and friendly face. With little hesitation Sanson walked up to the counter and ordered a pint and placed a note on the bar top. With quick fluid movements the barkeep picked up a glass, poured the beverage and placed it in front of Sanson with a friendly smile and a wink and took the money, returning with the change and the same smile, but never saying a word.
Sanson pocketed the money and picked up his pint, strolling past a few patrons who where deep in conversation and seating himself near a window. The sky looked cold and grey outside, threatening to let loose a downpour at any moment. The perfect weather for a miserable day.
