RPG Stigmata [R]

[Annie]

[color=red][b]Warning[/b]- This RPG is rated R for sacreligious usage, crude language, and violence.[/color]

[size=1][b]Note[/b]- I'm going to [b]try[/b] and use the chapter style of writing with this RPG. If it doesn't go to well within the first few posts, then I will eliminate it and we will continue with posting normally.

The list of admissions is in the Recruitment Forum, if you aren't on the list, then please, send your comments via PMs. If you wish to join, PM me and I'll see what we can do.[/size]

[center][font=impact][size=3]Stigmata[/center][/size][/font]

[RIGHT][size=1][b]|-Chapter 1- The First Wound-|[/b]

[b]Characters[/b]
[list][*]Christina Venicci
[*]Marshall Dumat[/list][/right]

[b]Summary[/b]- In this chapter, Christina receives the first wounds of Christ, the nails through the fists. She is accused of suicide and is sent to a Catholic hospital where she will be watched. The doctors inform the Arch Bishop of that sector about Christina?s unusual and curious wounds. The Arch Bishop then notifies Catholic Law, Marshall Dumat. He questions Christina, but does not interact too much.

[b]Note-[/b] Alright, I?m sure this is going to be a bit difficult, but please give it a shot. The only people posting will be Arika and Dmitri_Dragoon. One post from each. Arika will post first. If you have any problems/questions, PM me.[/size]

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#696969]Sitting in one the most expensive bars, Christina drank her strawberry daiquiri while knowing that a man was eyeing her. The bartender walked to the man and returned, giving Christina a glass of Silver Bacardi. Looking to the drink, the bartender pointed to the man who had bought her the drink. She looked his way and saw that the man was about 6'3, 179 lbs, fair skin, fairly built, wearing what looked like a business suit. With a smirk on her face, Christina sat there. He walked towards her and sat beside her.

[B]"Bartender, another silver, please."[/B] The man looked to Christina who sipped on her Bacardi. [B]"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alex Katsumi. I think you know who I am."[/B]

[B]"Ishiida-sensei's son. What do you want?"[/B]

Alex reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a card. He slid it over in front of Christina, who took it from the table and read what it had said. Alex sipped his Bacardi and knew that Christina had put down the card.

[B]"No."[/B]

Christina was beginning to leave the bar, when Alex grabbed her wrist. She looked to Alex's hand and then to his face. He pulled out of his chair and stood in front of Christina. He stepped forward and Christina had the chance to kick him in the stomach. He let go and Christina grabbed a Corona bottle and smashed it across Alex' face. With a spin kick, Christina sent Alex flying into several chairs. With a satisfied sigh, she reached for the door. Once touching it, a burning sensation etched onto her hand.

Suppressing her pain, Christina reached for the door once more, yet held onto her hands as blood fell to the floor. Someone ran to her help, while the bartender called the police. She was placed in the ambulance and taken to the hospital. It was there that the police and the hospital doctor agreed to place her in a Catholic hospital after agreeing to suicide.

Looking outside of the partol car, Christina looked at the holy, godly place. With a scoff, she was escorted inside and taken to the Arch Bishop, who called someone else.[/size][/color]

[Dmitri_Dragoon]

Marshall walked through the automatic sliding doors. This was the part of the job he hated, hospital visits. He despised hospitals more than anything in the known universe, he couldn't stand the smell of death that surrounded them.

He entered the High Security Wing. This was where all the people deemed "dangerous" were kept. Not neccessarily to protect the doctors and priests, but to protect them from themselves.

He found the door he needed, and showed his I.D. to the non-Catholic guard stationed outside of the room. After a brief clearence check Marshall entered the room. Here he saw the young lady in question laying peacefully in bed asleep. He would let her sleep, and awaken on her own terms. It was the least he could do for her.
[B]_______[/B]

In the several hours it took the girl to wake up, Marshall had been visited by the guard outside several times, probably to make sure Marshall wasn't molesting the girl. The priest took it all in stride and politely told the guard all was well.

When the girl finally woke up she was startled to see Marshall, and almost attacked him. Luckily she had been secured to her bed.

Marshall pulled out a small notebook and a pen. "Hello Christina, how are you?"

"I'll be much better when you tell me who you are and why I am here!" she snapped, apparently very angry at Marshall's presence. It may have been the fact that she was barely covered in the hospital robes she had been outfitted with on her arrival, or she was just angry.

Marshall smiled, "My name is Marshall Dumat, I was sent by the Church to ask you a few questions regarding the incident that took place earlier today."

Christina didn't wait for the questions to be asked, "Look old man, I was enjoying a drink at the bar when some man asked me a question. He didn't like the fact that I had refused, and he forced me to hurt him for my own good. As I tried to leave something happened..."

"What was that Christina?" Marshall asked softly.

Christina held up her hands which were scabbed over, Marshall hid his shock. Christina then continued, "I was sent to the hospital where they claimed I attempted suicide, then sent me to this place. The Arch Bishop that met me here called somebody then had me sent to this room. After, of course, they stripped me of all my belongings and gave me this cloth that can't even keep the cold off of me." She said, giving her robe a slight tug.

Marshall was deep in thought for a moment. "I'll have your clothing sent back to you, as long as you answer one more question, and agree to stay here a little longer. I may even try to get you a new room."

It was Christina's turn to be thoughtful, "Alright, deal, for now."

Marshall nodded, noting the girl's answer fully in his mind. "How did you get those wounds on your hands?"

"I.. don't know."

[Annie]

[size=1][b][color=darkslategray][right] |-Chapter Two- A Meeting-|

Characters
[list][*] Father Sammuel Jacobi
[*]Jules Hammerson
[/list]

Summary-[/b] In this chapter Sammuel is currently on an investigation, but is pulled away by Cardinal Claudio. Cardinal Claudio informs Sammuel of the incident in the grunge projects of Brooklynn and orders Sammuel to investigate. Despite his hesitation, Sammuel follows orders and heads to America and meets up with his friend, Jules Hammerson.

[b]Note[/b]- People in play: Baron Samedi and myself. As always, PM me with any concerns. The writing that is italisized is emphasizing that the language being spoke is Italian.
_____________________________________________________________

[b][i]"Father Jacobi, what is your opinion?"[/b][/i] a young priest held tight onto his praying beads.

Sammuel Jacobi stood silent in the center of a giant medallian embedded in the stone. The cathedral was amazing. Majestic marble pillars braced the tons of stained glass murals and stone beams. The floor, enlays of varieties of marble and granite, intricate with carvings of Christ and of the Mother Mary. Cherubs lay at the Lord's feet. The crucifix hung above the massive altar.

He was in awe.

[b][i]"Magnificant, you maintain the cathedral's glory so faithfully,"[/b][/i] Sammuel smiled and began to walk towards the altar.

[b][i]"Thank you, Father. We take great care of our house, and of its people. I am correct in assuming you know the reason why you are here?"

"Yes, where is the statue?"

"This way, Father, if you please."[/b][/i]

The young priest led the way behind the altar. Sammuel once more glanced up at Jesus on the cross. His face, His pain, forced even the strongest of man to turn in pity. Sammuel kissed his fingers and placed them on His feet.

[b][i]"You don't know how much we appreciate your arrival. This is most unusual. It has begun to frighten our devoted members. So much that they have stopped attending the mass."

"What a shame. I'm sure it is a beautiful ceremony."

"Here it is, Father."[/b][/i]

The priest pulled the heavy purple cloak, revealing a statue of the Virgin Mary. Sammuel nearly fell to his feet at what he was faced with. She was crying. Only, her tears were not of salt. They were of blood.

[b][i]"How long has She been crying?"

"Three days now. Ever since Father Amiria passed away. I've tried to wipe them away and clean Her face, but I come back not more than an hour later and the blood just keeps spilling down Her face."[/b][/i]

Sammuel blinked and took out a small leather case. In the case was a miniature forenisc set. Sammuel took a few vials of blood and slipped them into the slots provided. He then reached into his bag and pulled out his camera.

[b][i]"You don't mind, Father Marceles?"[/b][/i]

Father Marceles shook his head vigorously. Sammuel nodded in appreciation and snapped pictures. After he was finished, Father Marceles walked Sammuel to the arched doors.

[b][i]"Thank you, Father Marceles."

"You are most welcome. Father Jacobi, do you know when you can inform me of the results?"

"I cannot promise anything. However, I will reassure you that this is not a curse."[/b][/i]
____________________________________________

[b]"Ah, Sammuel, my child. Please have a seat,"[/b] a greying man in a red gown kissed Sammuel on the cheeks.

[b]"Thank you, Cardinal-"

"Please, I have asked you before, call me Marcus.''

"Very well, Marcus."[/b] Sammuel nodded and sat in a tall-back leather chair.

The Cardinal chuckled and walked behind his ancient desk. The room was very open and light. The soft woods and emerald greens accented eachother richly. The carvings of cherubs and gothic arches decorated every wall, every bookcase, every piece of furniture.

[b]"I've seen the results of your investigatin, Sammuel. I cannot allow you to continue this particular case."

"What? I beg your pardon, Marcus."

"I have another assignment for you."

"No, your eminence, I want to continue this case."

"Sammuel, anyone could have rigged this statue to 'cry'."

"But, the tears were warm. And of human blood."

"Enough of this. You will go on this next assignment."[/b]

Marcus set his fists firmly, yet calmly on the mahogany desktop. Sammuel rubbed his face, a habit to show that he was frustrated. Marcus held a manila envelope over the desk. Stubbornly, and most irritant, Sammuel took the envelope and scimmed over then contents. He paused, the envelope slipped from his grasp. Marcus sat back.

[b]"The Stigmata,"[/b] Sammuel's voice caught in his throat.

[b]"Yes. Go to New York, Sammuel. Put a hush on this situation. It's all the Vatican needs at this point."

|-Three days later-|

"There you are!"[/b] a man, in his late thirties held out his hand.

[b]"Jules, how wonderful to see you,"[/b] Sammuel laughed and took his friend's hand.

[b]"What on earth brings you back here?"[/b] Jules smiled and helped with Sammuel's bags.

[b]"A special case," the two walked out of the terminal and out of the airport.

Brooklynn, New York City, New York.[/b]

[b]Note[/b]- Baron, you are next. From here, they go to Jule's place while Sammuel makes a few phone calls to the Arch Bishop. They then go to meet up with Marshall.[/size][/color][/right]

[Baron Samedi]

[size=1]My gravest apologies Annie for the long wait...I will have this post written up shortly. By Tuesday at the latest, is my aim.

________

Jules helped Sammuel place his luggage into the back tray of the Navy Ford F-250 that Jules drove. Reversing the car out of the bay, Jules took off, swinging wide around the roundabout, and taking the turn-off for the big smoke, lazy and immense in the smoggy distance.

"So Father, any clues on what brings you here? Is there anything you need arranged?"

"No, Jules...nothing needs to be arranged. But something is happening...something is on the move. I think. Have you ever heard of the Stigmata?"

"Isn't that what Jesus' wounds were called? Like, the holes in his hands and legs?"

"Yes. Well, someone has them... do you know what this means?"

"Uuh, no..."

"In that case, you'll find out soon enough. I'll also need to make some calls when we get to your apartment."

"Sure thing."

The rest of the trip proceeded in silence, with Jules occasionally glancing over at the grim-faced Priest. Jules had been through enough stressful situations with Sammuel that he knew the extent of the churning thoughts below the stone-mask. Or, if not the extent of the thoughts...the worry that radiated from them...

The Priest was out of the car almost as soon as Jules keyed off the ignition, heading for the bank of elevators in the underground car-park. Jules flicked him his secuirty card for the elevators, and asked Sammuel to hold it for him and the luggage.

The Priest's terse reply was more worry for Jules.

"Don't bother bringing my stuff upstairs...you'll need to pack your own stuff too. We might be gone for awhile."

Jules joined Sammuel in the mahogany lift, as the silently smooth engine hauled the two silent men to the floor 3rd from the top, where Jule's studio apartment lay waiting for them... and a message too.

______________


Done, eventually ^_^
[/size]

[Annie]

[color=darkslategray][size=1][right][b] |-Chapter 3- A Warm Hand to Hold-|

Characters

[list][*]Christina Venicci
[*] Marshall Dumat
[*] Corey Roos[/list]

Summary-[/b] Christina is still "imprisoned" within the sanctum of the Catholic hospital. Marshall is still trying to gather as much information from Christina as he possibly can. However, Christina is a rather fiesty person to control. Tired of her uncooperative attitude, Marshall calls upon someone in whom he thinks Christina will warm up to, Corey. Will Christina comprimise? Will Corey be able to calm her down?

[b]Note-[/b] People in play: Dmitri_Dragoon, KnightoftheRose, and Arika. Dmitri_Dragoon, the floor is yours. KnightoftheRose, you'll be next. Finally, Arika, you steal the stage.[/color][/size][/right]

[Dmitri_Dragoon]

Marshall stormed out of the room. He almost took the Lord's name in vain, the girl was that aggravating. He looked into the room that he was able to get for Christina. It was small, but it had most of the necessities of life, but still denied a lot of freedom. He had also made sure she received her clothes back and even made it so that she could get some new articles, so that she wouldn't be stuck wearing the same thing every day.

He turned from the room and started walking down the hall. She wasn't cooperating with him, and he was starting to get annoyed. He had to find a way to get her to talk, even if it wasn't to him.

He stayed deep in thought for several hours. He needed somebody young, and not bad looking. He was able to gather rather well that the girl was not a homosexual, so it would be a male he needed. He needed outside help to figure this out.

After making several phone calls he was reffered to a semi-young man who was a friend of a priest, but an athiest. Marshall found that ironic, but did not refuse the help. The young man would be there as soon as he could.
_______________

[I]That was a might bit difficult...[/I]

[Corey]

[size=1]Corey jumped the curb, swerving around a couple with their hands placed firmly in eachothers back pockets. The male cursed slightly and Corey responded with a swift release of one hand and the extension of a certain finger. He place his right hand back on the grip of his handlebars and darted back into traffic. He had one more package for the day and then he was off to do someone a favor. He blinked and shifted the package slightly on his back. It was kinda heavy. He always hoped that none of the packages were alive. He was one of the more aggresive bike messangers and often did his share of crashes. Most often from idiotic cabbies that just threw open doors without thinking.

A car stopped short in front of him and he darted back up onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing one of the cities many homeless. They really didn't serve much of a purpose. This one began yelling at him while distractedly pushing his shopping cart down the street. He was close to the building. Not too much further, but it was always better to assume that you were a along way away from the delivery. It kept you sharp. Aware to changes in the flow of traffic, or pedestrians if the case may be.

Corey darted back into the street and all the way across to the other side. He got a few honks but other than that it was easy. The building went wizzing by. He looked back over his hsoulder and skidded to a stop. He turned around and slowly made his way back. He chained his bike and walked up to the door. It was a brick building. Kind of icky looking. He took the bulky package out of his pack and knocked. it opened almost immediately.

[b]Corey-[/b] "Pedal to the Pavement Deliveries. Here's your package. That'll be two fifty." The man gave Corey a smile and handed him a five. "Thanks man."

[b]Man-[/b] "No problem. You guys are always really fast." Corey winked at him and walked back to his bike. He took a moment to adjust his bright yellow helmet and looked over his bike. He'd need a new chain soon... His was getting worn down. Probablay a new back wheel too... He'd just gotten a new tire, but his wheel was still a little out of it from his last crash, and every ride was wearing it out a little more.

Corey shrugged and hopped back on. Now he's make his way about twenty blocks to a certain Catholic hospital he'd gotten the address for. Apparently someone wanted him to talk to someone, though why they'd want a little Athiest was beyond him. He shrugged, pulled up his gloves a little bit, and pedaled away.
???
He limped up to the entrance of the hospital and chained his maimed bike up to a rail. He had gotten hit by a little sh!tbox Toyota about three blocks away. It didn't do a lot of damage to the rider, but the bike had suffered miserably. Now he definitly needed a new back wheel, a new front wheel, a new crank, sprocket, gyro, and he needed to weld a bit of his frame back together. It was a good thing his job paid for sh!t like that. He kicked it and wiped the a small streamlet of blood off of his leg. A small cut there and on the forehead was the only damage.he had suffered. lcuk if he'd ever seen it in action.

Corey walked in and over to the receptionist.

[b]Corey-[/b] "I'm here to meet with a Marshall Dumat. I'm Corey Roos. He called my job looking for me a bit earlier." The woman punched up a number a spoke a few quiet words into the reciever of a tan phone.

[b]Receptionist-[/b] "He's on his way. You can have a seat over there." She pointed to a series of orange plastic chairs bolted together and to the floor in a dark corner of the room. It was the waiting area... And it had occupants... As he walked over, a man took out a mass of tissues and hacked a big mass of green flem into it. Corey gimaced and relocated his stare to another. This one seemed near-comatose and very sweaty. He started breathing a little less. He switched his eyes to the third person of the area, a woman of about twenty with a huge swollen lump on the side of her face. It looked as if she had been hit. Probably by some deadbeat boyfriend...

[b]Marshall-[/b] "Mr. Roos!" Corey stood up quickly and whirrled around, his butt about an inch from one of the biohazard-orange seats. He ripped his gloves off and stuffed them in his pockets. "I'm glad you could come one such a short notice. You were spoken rather highly of by certain people." They started walking.

[b]Corey-[/b] "Well, it pays to know people." He shook the mans... The priests hand. "Marhsall?" The priest nodded. "So who is it you wanted me to talk to?"

[b]Marshall-[/b] "Well, we brought her in recently. She was afflicted with a certain illness of the spirit, and well... She won't talk to us. She has a bit of a heretical temperament..." Corey nodded.

[b]Corey-[/b] "I'm not getting paid, am I?" Marshall nodded. He pointed to his wounds.

[b]Marshall-[/b] "They'll patch you up for free though."

[b]Corey-[/b] "Fair enough." They walked into the room. Corey stopped and starred at the girl on the bed. "Christina?"[/size]

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#696969][B]"Christina?"[/B]

Sitting at the edge of her bed, Christina had heard her name being called out. She knew the voice quite well and looked up to Corey. She stood and they looked to each other, until...Christina's fist had came flying through the air to Corey's jaw. He stumbled backwards as Christina glared at him and the priest.

Slightly touching his jaw, Corey knew that Christina was aggravated and angered. Knowing her temper, this was only the beginning of a wild explosion. Marshall stood behind Corey as he gently massaged his bruised jaw, that was bleeding as well. Christina gazed endlessly and was rather calmer than before. Her anger was released yet, she wanted nothing to do with the church or the priest or anyone at that moment.

[B]"What the hell was that for?!"[/B]

[B]"You know damn well what that was for!"[/B]

Corey looked to Christina with confusion, then realized. [B]"Let me take a wild guess. You've been stuck with cops, stuck in the hospital, then stuck here. People are getting in your business and asking questions, right?"[/B]

[B]"You're damn right."[/B]

Marshall shook his head in respone as forgiveness, yet he could not stand this girl cursing in a holy building. Yet, Corey understood. [B]"It seems like you're letting off some steam, if that's the case...why am I called here then?"[/B]

[B]"How the hell am I supposed to know?"[/B]

Corey sat in a chair adjacent to the bed as Christina still stood with her arms crossed. He seemed concerned and yet, he knew that Christina was distant and stubborn and that she never spoke of her problems to anyone, unless she needed to. This was one of those times she needed to. He looked to her with concern and spoke.

[B]"Anger management."[/B]

Two words was all it took and Christina finally stopped pacing and sat down at the edge of the bed. She looked straight at Corey, yet anger still boiled within her. She looked to Marshall who understood and stepped outside. With a sigh, Christina came through, yet her fists were curled and veins were slightly popping, but...nonetheless, she came through.

[B]OOC:[/B] I will not be here until late afternoon on August 7th. Sorry for the inconvenient reply at such late notice.[/size][/color]

[Annie]

[size=1][b][right]|-Chapter 4- Time Will Tell-|

Characters

[list][*] Jules Hammerson
[*] Father Sammuel Jacobi
[*] Marshall Dumat[/list]

Summary[/b]- In this chapter, Jules and Father Jacobi find a note from an unknown source. The two talk about the years past (they have not seen or heard from eachother in two years). Jules tells Sammuel about his faith, or the lack there of. And Sammuel explains his new investigation. The two head to the hospital and meet up with Marshall. He explains the situation thus so far.

[b]Note[/b]- People in play: Baron Samedi, Dmitri_Dragoon, and myself.
_________________________________________________________

[color=darkslategray][b]"What's this?"[/b] Jules plucked the yellow sticky note from his door.

[b]"What does it say?"[/b] Father Jacobi glanced over Jules's shoulder.

Sammuel read the note carefully. It was written in Italian. The handwriting was unfamiliar. Neat, precise, punctual and well worded. The ink was red and thin. Perhaps it was written with a rolling, ball-point pen.

[b]"Hey, Sam. What does it say? I don't understand Italian,"[/b] Jules handed the note to Sammuel and opened his door.

The oak door creaked lazily. Jules appartment was open and full of light. The decor reminded Sammuel of South America. Rich, mix-matched colors flooded Sammuel's eyes. Greens, burgundies, oranges, browns, and several variations of off-colors. The furniture was modern, yet furnished to look old an worn. The far wall was all glass windows. Some were boarded up by plywood or cardboard, even sheets of plastic and duct tape. The floors were hardwood, occasionally covered in braided rugs.

[b]"Sorry if the place is a mess, I've been rather busy."[/b]

Jules lead the way to a closed off corner of the loft. The small room area contained a full-sized bed with exotic sheets and many pillows. A small wicker dresser was just to the right. It had small Native American artifacts. The walls supported a few paintings of fruits and of people. Above the heavily carved headboard hung a turquoise dream catcher.

[b]"Your loft is amazing, Jules. The colors are so rich and relaxing,"[/b] Sammuel removed his over coat and lay it on the over-stuffed leather chair in the corner.

[b]"Thanks. I'll just set your bags on the bed,"[/b] Jules lifted the luggage onto the matteress.

[b]"Thank you, Jules."

"No problem. Hey, you look like you could use a drink,"[/b] Jules winked and started to walk back towards the kitchen.

[b]"Absolutely,"[/b] Sammuel chuckled and followed, glancing and examining the paintings and artifacts along the way.

Jules walked over to his hidden refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of whine. He held it up for Sammuel's approval.

[b]"That will do just fine,"[/b] Sammuel smiled and sat down on a barstool.

Jules poured the red whine into a couple of glasses and handed one to Sammuel. He walked around the bar and sat down next to his friend.

[b]"So, Jules. What have you been up to this past couple of years?"[/b] Sammuel sat his glass down on the maple countertop.[/size][/color][/right]

[Baron Samedi]

[SIZE=1]Walking around to the other side of the bar, Jules sat down in a leather recliner, and perched his feet on the edge of the antique coffee table.

"What have I been up to? I don't know where to start. So much has happened, yet it also seems like so little. The time flew, to tell you the truth, and I have missed you and our...excursions, though less and less as I settled further into normal life. A few months after you left, I went into the Canadian wilderness looking for The Plausible Mark of Faith, the place where I was trained. I knew exactly where it was, and as I got closer I could feel the pull of it. But you know what? It wasn't there. Only an old ruin was there. But I knew that it was the right place. Very...creepy. Then again, I have gotten used to that. You sem to have a knack for picking up the stranger side of life Sam.

After that I kind of wandered a bit...before deciding to take up a hobby. I didn't really need a job, as the trust fund covered me nicely enough, as you can tell. So, I got into extreme sports...you know, aerial snow-boarding, freefalling, cliff jumping, stupid stuff with souped up bikes. And then, only a few months ago I realised that I was wasting my life for an adrenaline rush. So, I came back here... decided to study for a Chemistry Ph.D

Nothing else too remarkable. As I said, the time flew."

"You [i]have[/i] been busy, haven't you."

"Well, yes and no. I was actually even thinking of studying religion instead of Chem... but I thought Chemistry might be a bit more applicable. Then again, considering your line of work, religion might have been a better choice. Though not having one would have been both an aid and a difficulty. Do you think in that case religion would clear or cloud the mind more? Or, rather, the lack of a religion?"

Sam shifted on the bar stool, and scratched his head, grimacing.

"I don't really know. It'd depend on the person and the reasons behind the research."

"Yeah...yeah. Anyway, are you going to tell me a bit more about why [i]you're[/i] here?" Jules asked as he got up from the recliner, and headed back over to the bar.

"All in good time, Jules. And speaking of time...we have less than two hours to be at the hospital! Pack, quickly."

"Hospital...?" Jules queried, as he took Sam's empty glass and placed it in the dishwasher.

"You're always too bogged down with details Jules. Come on, get cracking. I'll tell you more on the way..."[/SIZE]

[Annie]

[size=1][b]Note-[/b] Anything that is in italics symbolizes Italian.[/size][color=darkslategray][size=1][right][b]"So, are you going to tell me or not?"[/b] Jules pestered, throwing his jacket over his shoulder.

[b]"Can we get on our way first, Jules?"[/b] Sammuel chuckled.

He was amused to see that Jules's child-like attitude had not died out with time. The two men rushed into the lift and slammed the heavy, iron grate. The lift groaned with age and the support of thousands of men and women.

[b]"I read an article in the [u]Catholic Words[/u] a few months ago. The one about the waters of Jordan turning into blood. You took that case, didn't you?"[/b] Jules leant against one side of the lift.

[b]"Yes, yes I did. That was just a hoax...much like everything that I had been assigned to these past couple of years.."[/b] Sammuel's voice trailed as he glanced out of the small, stained glass window.

The colors flashed from bright to dark as the sections of the building interferred with the light. A smidge of silence lingered in the musty elevator.

[b]"C'mon, Sam. Not everthing was a hoax."

"The blood-red waters, due to lack of proper sewage treatment. The unexpected rise of that disease, not a plague. Just some unknown burst of filthy viruses, caused by the poor health care of third world countries. Oh, and let us not forget about the outburst of 'demons' in the city of El Savidor,"[/b] Sammuel growled.

[b]"What was that, by the way?"[/b] Jules began to slip his arms into his jacket.

[b]"Escapees from the local prison!"[/b] Sammuel kicked the grate of the lift doors.

Jules sighed and placed his arm around his friend's shoulders.

[b]"Sam, Sam. Seriously, you need to take a long vacation. Away from all of this."

"Thank you, Jules. But I.."

"Yes you can."

"I just feel that..everything that I've struggled to prove, for the sake of my religion..Everything that I have been lead to believe, has been a great big hoax. It's like the Vatican, the Church, has been laughing at me. Giving me these phony assignments just for their amusal."

"You know, stay here in New York with me for a few months. I'll take you all around the States. We'll go to New Mexico, Arizona, the Grand Canyon, the desert is really beautiful, you know?"

"Perhaps that's what I do need."[/b]

The lift reached the basement and the men climbed into Jules's vehicle. Sammuel rest his head against the glass window and sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled yellow, sticky note.

[i]Please hurry, Father Jacobi. The girl is in danger, and I fear I cannot help her. You are the only hope for this girl. God save her soul, and may God help you...[/i]

Sammuel huffed in annoyance in his unconfident state of mind and tossed the yellow paper to the wind. Jules glanced over and smiled.

[b]"So, who are we meeting?"[/b] Jules broke the steady silence.

[b]"Marshall Dumat. He's watching over the girl."

"What's her name?"

"Christina Venicci."

"Venicci,"[/b] Jules spoke to himself as if he were forcing a picture to pop into his head.

[b]"Do you know her?"

"Nah, can't say that I do. But that name sounds awefully familiar."

"Hm. Anyhow, Dumat's contacted me and says she's experiencing the stigmata."

"Is that so?"[/b] Jules blinked in astonishment, [b]"Do you really think it's the stigmata?"

"I have no idea. But I pray that it is not so."

"Why? This would be like the greatest religious discovery-"

"I don't think so, Jules."

"Why is that?"

"It would destroy the church."[/b]

The two men fell silent all the way to the hospital. They entered into the sanctum of Catholic care. The hospital did not appear to be a normal hospital of white walls and stainless steel fixtures. Rather, the walls were made of light woods. The floors were not linoleum, but carpets. Jules' eyes wandered from painting to painting, statue to statue.

[b]"Whoa..now I wouldn't mind getting set up in a hospital like this,"[/b] he breathed.

Sammuel smiled and looked for the "Critical Hold". Jules, feet behind Sammuel, admired the beauty.

[b]"Father Jacobi?"[/b] a dark voice echoed downwind.

Sammuel turned to his left to face a tall, stern man. His face resembled that of what we know as exhaustion.

[b]"Marshall Dumat?"[/b]

The man nodded and stepped closer. Sammuel extended his hand and shook Marshall's firmly.

[b]"Pleasure,"[/b] Marshall shook Jules's hand.

[b]"How is everything going?"[/b] Sammuel shoved one hand into his jacket pocket.

[b]"Well, I would love to see you go in there and try to preach to that athiest. Both of them,"[/b] Marshall folded his arms.

[b]"Both?"

"Yes, I had to call on a 'Corey Roos'. He's the girl's friend. I'm hoping he can calm her down and try to reason with us."

"I see. What has she told you about her wounds?"[/b] Sammuel motioned for the three to sit down. [/size][/right][/color]

[Dmitri_Dragoon]

Marshall smiled, "She has told me very little. About the only thing she has said to me since I arrived are sarcastic comments."

"So she has given you nothing?" Sammuel asked.

"Oh, no, she's told me some. Mostly just about what happened when she received the first of the wounds," Marshall paused, he wanted to make sure he had Sammuel's attention fully. "She was at a bar, and a fellow made an advancement to her, and she denied. Probably very rudely from what I gather of her. He did not approve of her rejection and acted rashly. She put him in his place quite efficiently." Marshall smiled, slightly approving of what she did. Suddenly he started reliving his younger days when he was a fighter.

"Marshall? Your mind is wandering..."

Marshall shook his head, and cleared his thoughts. "Forgive me, I was starting to relive some of my earlier years." With the nod of forgiving heads, Marshall continued, "As Christina started to leave the bar, she was struck with sudden pain in her hands. She black out briefly, but remembers quite well seeing her own blood oozing from her hands, when there had been nothing to puncture them. The rest is unimportant matter that lead up to her being here."

Sammuel sat back in his chair in quiet thoughtfulness. Jules remained quiet as well, but regarded Marshall, who was beginning to look quite haggard from days of restless sleep.

Marshall felt the eyes on him and he forced a smile. "Forgive me once again, I must look terrible. I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep since I arrived here. I'm just not comfortable in hospitals." Which was only partly true. The fact of the matter was, everytime he fell asleep, he dreamt of bloody hands, reaching out to grab him.

[Annie]

[size=1][b][right]|-Chapter 5- The Words of Athiests-|

Characters

[list][*]Corey Roos
[*]Christina Venicci
[*]Father Sammuel Jacobi[/list]

Summary[/b]- Corey talks to Christina about the wounds, suspecting suicide. Christina fears she cannot trust even her friend, finally turning to Sammuel for a comforting hand. She is released from the hospital and cooperates with Sammuel.

[b]Note[/b]- People in play: KnightoftheRose, Arika, and myself. Corey, postage belongs to thee.[/size][/right]

[Annie]

[size=1][b][right]|-Chapter 5- The Words of Athiests-|

Characters

[list][*]Corey Roos
[*]Christina Venicci
[*]Father Sammuel Jacobi[/list]

Summary[/b]- Corey talks to Christina about the wounds, suspecting suicide. Christina fears she cannot trust even her friend, finally turning to Sammuel for a comforting hand. She is released from the hospital and cooperates with Sammuel.

[b]Note[/b]- People in play: KnightoftheRose, Arika, and myself. Corey, postage belongs to you.[/size][/right]

[Corey]

[size=1][i]Sorry doesn't even begin to describe how bad I feel about not realizing I was up until now...
Be assured that a certain part of my body has been pummeled for the idiocity of my mind.
That and I assure this post will be nothing less than wonderful.[/i]
???
[b]Corey-[/b] "Anger management..." Corey rubbed his jaw as Christina sat down on the edge of the bed with curled fists and white knuckles. Marshall left silently with a nod. From somehwere down the hall, the priest started up another conversation. He distinctly heard his use the word 'Athiests'. With a final rub to the sore and slgithly swelling area, Corey stood and sat next to Christina. "So what's going on? I was told jack shit and you need to get this off of your chest before you suffocate." She eyes him, slightly distrustful, and slumped over, planting her elbows on her knees.

[b]Christina-[/b] "I don't know why they had to get you involved. I can deal with it..." Corey huffed.

[b]Corey-[/b] "And a fine job you're doing too. Bandages around you hands. A hospital... A [i]Catholic[/i] hospital. And a frickin' weirdo priest that looks like something from Night of The Living Dead cus' he's so damn drained." Christina looked up at him, anger flaring fierociously, and opened her mouth to send some hateful remark his way. "Oh shut up, you know I'm right." She did shut up, with a bit of resentment on her face, but she knew it was true. "So tell me." He could almost watch the change of emotions on her face.

[b]Christina-[/b] "I went out for a few drinkes the other night. You know, maybe hoping to get a phone number or something." Corey nodded. "Well... There was this guy and he was being a huge dick... So I sma-"

[b]Corey-[/b] "Smashed a bottle over his head and kicked him into the next room, yeah you were on the news." Christina looked him square in the eyes.

[b]Christina-[/b] "After all that bitching about me telling my story you aren't even going let me tell it." Corey held his hands up in surrender and motioned for her to continue. She looked down at her bandaged wrapped hands and glanced up at Corey with a whisper of a smile on her face. "I was on the news?" He nodded.

[b]Corey-[/b] "Yeah, said you landed the guy twenty stitches and a night in the emergency room." She actually did smile.

[b]Christina-[/b] "Good... Well, I was walking to the door and my hands burned a little. I figured I probably cut into them when I was making a fist or when I broke the bottle, so I didn't really worry about it. When I reached for the door, the pain got a lot worse and blood started pouring from my palms." She started shaking momentarily. Corey wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug.

[b]Corey-[/b] "Go on."

[b]Christina-[/b] "I am, dammit... So I blacked out and then I woke up here." She looked up at him with red, tearrimmed eyes. "They think I tried to kill myself, or at least that's what they thought..." Corey shifted.

[b]Corey-[/b] "What do they think now?" His voice sounded false to himself, would she be able to tell? Suicide... Yeah... That fits the bill alright... Christina looked up at him with hurt eyes.

[b]Christina-[/b] "You think it was suicide too." He let her go and stood up.

[b]Corey-[/b] "I never said that!" She stood up and jammed a finger in his face.

[b]Christina-[/b] "You didn't fucking need to. Get out."

[b]Corey-[/b] "Wait, Christina..."

[b]Christina-[/b] "Get out! Get out! Get the fuck OUT!" He ducked as he pillow sailed over his head. She was reacing toward the lam when he quickly darted out of the door. It collided where his head would have been a second earlier, spiling broken glass and metal out into the hallway. He shut the door the rest of the way and sat down in front of it, shaking his head and mumbling. She kicked the door from the inside giving his head a large knock.

[b]Corey-[/b] "Fuck!" He climbed to his feet clutching his head and sat down on a nearby chair. He couldn't blame her... She trusted him and he broke it... He glanced up to see Marshall and a few others standing a ways down the hall. "Hey! Marshall! How about a few aspirin..." He clutched his head and held it between his knees..[/size]

[Annie]

[color=navy][size=1]Ah haha! Poor Corey ^_^
_______________________________________________________________


[right]Startled, and puzzled, all three men turned to stare at the pained young man. He clutched his head, whispering loudly.

[b]"Hey, Marshall! How about a few aspirin?"[/b]

The priest chuckled and walked to comfort the whimpering Corey. Jules side glanced at Sammuel, smiling slighly. Sammuel nodded and followed Marshall.

[b]"Mr. Roos, I pressume?"[/b] Sammuel knelt beside him, handing him a handkerchief for his oozing wound.

[b]"Shit, she made me bleed?"[/b] Corey took the hanky gratefully, nodding 'thanks' to Sammuel, [b]"Who are you two?"[/b]

Sammuel stood with a slight groan. Jules was now beside him.

[b]"I am Father Sammuel Jacobi, please, call me Sam. And this is my good friend, Jules Hammerson. I am here to question Christina-"

"Good fucking luck!"[/b] Corey shot a flaring glare at her door.

[b]"Please, Corey, try to refrain from using such profanity."

"Oh, yeah. Sh-I mean, sorry 'bout that, Sam,"[/b] Corey stood.

[b]"Father Jacobi?"[/b] a soft voice pulled the men's eyes towards a young nurse in all white.

[b]"Yes,"[/b] Sammuel smiled.

[b]"Dr. Livingston would like to speak with you about the patient. This way please,"[/b] the young woman led the way down the dark corridor.

They stopped at an open door, drawing the eyes inside the lush design. An older, white haired man sat behind a wooden desk. One lamp was lit.

[b]"Ah, Father Jacobi. Welcome,"[/b] the doctor stood and walked around to greet Sammuel.

[b]"Thank you, Doctor,"[/b] Sammuel shook his hand.

[b]"Thank you for coming. I could go on into a lecture of pleasantries, but I won't,"[/b] Dr. Livingston motioned to the built in bar.

[b]"Oh, no thank you, Doctor. I'm here to inquire about Christina Venicci,"[/b] Sammuel unbuttoned his jacket.

[b]"Ah yes, quite the firecracker. We cannot find anything wrong. I suspected suicide, but it doesn't make sense due to the fact of how the wounds are placed,''[/b] Dr. Livingston poured himself a drink.

Sammuel nodded, [b]"So, you are releasing her?"

"Yes,"[/b] Dr. Livingston nodded and took a slow sip, [b]"As lively as she is, I see no [i]solid[/i] indications of suicide, or the motivation there of."[/b]

Sammuel finally sat down in the tall, leather chair. Inquisition quickly settling into his skin. He was slowly livening now. The doctor continued into the description of the wounds and his thoughts. Sammuel calmly rose from his seat and shook the doctor's hand.

[b]"Thank you, Father. I hope your investigation turns for the best,"[/b] Dr. Livingston smiled gratefully.

[b]"Thank you, Dr. Livingston,"[/b] Sammuel turned and walked down the hallway, towards Christina's room.

Jules, Marshall, and Corey were now sitting in the waiting area. Corey still rubbing his skull. Jules stood first and quickly stepped beside his friend.

[b]"Are they going to let her go?"

"Yes, but I wish to speak with her alone first,"[/b] Sammuel slapped his hand on Jules's back, playfully.

Sammuel knocked on the door and hesitantly opened it, peeping his head cautiously around the door.

[b]"May I come in?"[/b] Sammuel grimaced in expectation, readying himself to slam the door.

[b]"Yes, as long as you don't piss me off, you're good."[/b]

Sammuel smirked and silently closed the door. Christina was laying on her side, staring aimlessly at the television. Sammuel tenderly made his way to the edge of the hospital bed.

[b]"You can sit down, I won't bite,"[/b] Christina smiled, patting the mattress.

[b]"Thank you, Ms. Venicci,"[/b] Sammuel folded his jacket over his arm.

[b]"Call me 'Christina'. None of this 'Ms. Venicci', it makes me squirm,"[/b] she gently shoved Sammuel with her foot.

He shifted, not out of discomfort. Christina stared. Sammuel coughed lightly before speaking.

[b]"I have some good news for you. The doctor has just told me that he is releasing you."

"Really? Thank fucking God."

"A-hem..."

"Oh, my bad. I am sorry, Father Jacobi."

"Please, do call me 'Sammuel'."

"Sammuel.."[/b]

The two smiled.

[b]"Ms. Ven-"[/b] Sammuel paused, Christina's glare forced redness into his flesh, [b]" Christina, would you like to go to lunch with me? I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, why not."[/b][/right][/color][/size]

[Revelation]

[size=1][color=#696969][B]"Christina, would you like to go to lunch with me? I would like to ask you a few questions."

"Sure, why not."[/B]

Sammuel smiled and walked to the door, holding it for her like a true gentleman. Christina nodded to him in thanks and walked out. Not a moment too soon, did Corey appear and Christina begin to clench her fists once more. She took a step forward, yet was held back by the priest. Corey realized Christina left the room. He flinched for a moment before making his way to the two.

[B]"Take care. I'll see you later, alright? And remember, 'anger management'."[/B] He passed Christina before whispering into Sammuel's ear. [B]"Figure this out, try not to let her get too fiesty, and... the two most important things that you should not do are, ask intimate questions and let her walk out angry."[/B]

Father Sammuel stood confused, yet he seemed to understand what Corey was saying. Corey patted the father on the shoulder before leaving. Christina stood with her arms crossed before the father tapped her to move along. With a deep breath inward, she walked down the hallway with Father Sammuel walking behind her. The two stopped in front of his two friends, Marshall and another man. Marshall eyed Christina, while Sammuel spoke with the other.

[B]"What are you planning to do?"[/B]

[B]"At least manage to get her to talk to me. If I can do that, then perhaps she can tell me more."[/B]

Ending their conversation, Father Sammuel looked to Marshall and patted his shoulder. He then ushered Christina in leave. Soon enough, the two came out onto the street and Christina sighed at the sight of the city.[/size][/color]

[Annie]

[color=navy][size=1][b][right]"What are they, Father?"[/b]

A long silence. They sit at a grungy table in a small restaurant. The rain pitters and bleeds down the fogging glass. The littered streets buzz of angery pedestrians and careless vehicles.

[b]"Your wounds?"[/b]

Christina looks at the priest, a cigarette in one hand. Her wrists wrapped tightly with gauze bandages and muslim cloth, patches of red stain the white fabric.

[b]"Yes, my wounds,"[/b] Christina shoved the cigarette's butt into an ashtray.

Sammuel lifted the bandages and gasps at the torn flesh. She flips her hands palms down on the table, the same wounds were on the opposite side. He stares back in disbelief and rubs his hands together vigorously, his nerves fraying in several directions.

[b]"The wounds are identical," Sammuel blinked, rubbing his hands over his face now.
[b]
"No shit, Sherlock. What I want to know is why this is happening to me, and what in the hell is going on?"[/b] Christina sat back, folding her arms over her chest.

Sammuel sighed heavily, dreading what he was about to say. Dreading the thought of having to explain something so deep within religion to an anti-Christ woman.

[b]"You are experiencing Stigmata."

"What is that, Father?"[/b]

Beads of sweat rolled down his neck.

[b]"Stigmata are the wounds of Christ. They are brought about by spiritual stress."

"What? I don't understand any of this spiritual mumbo jumbo. Nor do I care, all I want is an answer as to why it's happening to me."

"That, I cannot answer right now. Please allow me to help you. There are five wounds, one of which you have already come to be victim of. If you do not allow me to help you, no one will."[/b]


The rain pounds on the glass. Christina opened her mouth to speak, however, she closed her lips.

[b]"Can I die from this 'stigmata'?"

"It is very possible. That is why it is so important for you to cooperate with me."

"But there is a way to stop this, right?"[/b]

Sammuel cradled his cup of coffee, hoping the warmth would lend him strength. Christina leant over the table in expectation.

[b]"Right?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?! What kind of an answer is that, Sammuel?"

"The only answer I can offer you right now,"[/b] the priest looked up from his steaming drink to be shot back into his seat with Christina's intense glare.

[b]"That's bullshit! Why did I even come here?!"[/b] Christina shot up from her seat, [b]"The coffee's on me."

"Christina!"[/b] Sammuel rose to persue.

[b]"You can't help me, Sam! You have no idea what is happening to me, you don't know what this is!"[/b] Christina shook her wrists in his face.

She stormed out of the little restaurant, slamming the doors in Sammuel's face. The rain fell with venom.

[i]"..Don't let her walk away angry..."[/i] Corey's last words of wisdom for Sammuel.

He nodded and exited the restaurant.[/color][/size][/right]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[b][size=1]|-Chapter 6- The Second Wound|

Characters

[list][*]Christina Venicci
[*]Father Sammuel Jacobi
[*]Marshall Dumat
[*]Jules Hammerson[/list]

Summary[/b]- In this chapter, Christina experiences the next wound of Christ; the slashes of the back. After her stormy exit, Christina decides to go back to her apartment and relax. Only to find that she will not be as relaxed as she had hoped..and to find that Sammuel is relentless. As he hurries to find a way to help Christina, Sammuel asks the help of the priest, Marshall Dumat. Together, the two priests discover some evidence as to why the stigmata are releasing their terror on Christina.

[b]Note[/b]- People in play: Dmitri_Dragoon, Arika, Baron Samedi,and myself. Please, if you wish to discuss ideas or have questions as to what to post, there is a thread in the Underground that I put up just for that purpose. You'll probably need to go back a couple of pages.

[b]Baron, would you like to start us off? You can pick up with Dmitri_Dragoon's character, or just have him already at his place. PM me if you need to.[/b][/size]