[center][color=#f0b333][h1]#5[/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr]
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Leaving Italy had been [i]difficult[/i] for Five, to say the least. [i]Yes,[/i] meeting the family that he hadn’t seen in – how long again? – was [i]nice,[/i] but what about Rome? What about Italy? His duties to city and country?

But as Mary reminded him time and again, always gentle and soothing, these [i]were[/i] the orders. This [i]was[/i] his duty.

Five couldn’t help the niggling thought: did this mean they [i]didn’t need him[/i] home? If they could function without him, what was his purpose? Must he still stay? Couldn’t he just go? Leave, forever?

[i]Where lay the path to salvation?[/i]

But no. No no no. His presence was required. It would be [i]selfish[/i] if he were freed when there were so many others in need of aid…

He kept telling himself that, and it helped. Somewhat. So did Mary’s presence. So did the barrier of light they let him encase the plane with.

Flying was a fascinating experience. Had he done it before…? Surely, he must have. The skies, the clouds, the sun, they were all so glorious. It was [i]frightening[/i], yet resplendent. Reaching so close to the Heavens – what could it be if not a transgression? Would God not punish them? He couldn’t help but think of that sinful city and its damned tower. Would they feel His might?

He trembled, feared, and dreaded, but [i]oh,[/i] there was that sinful shiver of desire too.

Just what would it be like…?

Then the car ride came, and [i]somehow[/i], Five was even more jittery. Being grounded reminded him of where he was, and that he was not where he wanted to be. There was no familiar vibration of his ability – they did not permit the use of his ability for this vehicle. He wrapped himself in more chains to compensate, but his breathing came too quick, too shallow.

Mary found his hand, and squeezed it. [color=white]“Shhh, Micah, easy there,”[/color] she murmured calming words to him until he managed to get himself under control.

He was relatively stable by the time the car parked, but the crowd outside nearly undid all his efforts. He had to avert his gaze – there were too many eyes. The stares crept under his skin like parasites, crawled all over him with all the insistence of a swarm of blood-sucking insects drawn to wounded prey. Their faces, their signs, their chants of doom; were they a host sent by the devil?

[color=#f0b333][i]“Filth,”[/i][/color] he spat.

His handler, the only one to hear him, placed a fist over her mouth. [color=white][i]“Micah,”[/i][/color] she scolded, faux-scandalized, [color=white]“That’s rude.”[/color] He knew her well enough by now to realize she’d found his comment funny against her wishes. Nonetheless, he chose to hold his tongue.

He looked back then, to make a point. In place of their eyes, he imagined voids, until all he saw were pitiful creatures with a pair of black holes in their faces. He stared them down, straightened his spine, and entered the Rookery as a proud member of the numbers.

Five was dressed in attire that was somewhere between a suit and a security uniform. The colour white dominated, and emblems of his station decorated his upper body: the flag of Italy beneath a golden cross on his left shoulder, Rome’s flag and coat of arms on the right shoulder, another cross and the words “Urbs Aeterna, Caput Mundi” over his heart. Unlike his handler, he wasn’t armed, though his accessories were far strangers. Lustrous chains hugged his torso and bound his hands, while a simple leather and steel muzzle rested on his face. Five appeared entirely comfortable with all of these, and carried himself as any prim and proper gentleman might.

He scanned the guards, noted the biological scanners, and deemed them insufficient. He [i]was[/i] comforted by Three and Nine in particular, for he sensed they would serve exceptionally well in the defense of this base. Even so… [color=#f0b333]“It’s not secure,”[/color] he murmured. Mary patted his shoulder in understanding. [color=white]“I know, but we’ll have to ask for permission before you set up anything. Don’t want to spook anybody, eh?”[/color] Five inclined his head, complying even if he did not agree that unruffled feathers took precedence over protection.

The Rookery’s interior did much to soothe his nerves, at least; the religious imagery was familiar and comforting. He bowed to the statue of Virgin Mary, and recited a prayer under his breath, [color=#f0b333]“Remember, O most gracious…”[/color]

Only then did he take in all the siblings who had gathered so far. [color=#f0b333]“Blessed day indeed,”[/color] he echoed Twelve, the only one whose words he had caught. There was an incomprehensible [i]fondness[/i] as he looked from one to another number. His memories were so vague and confusing, he did not understand the attachment. Unbidden, a smile formed. The steady and serious three, cautious eleven, dreamy seven, ever-watchful nine, faithful twelve, and the lively ball of energy that was fourteen.

[color=#f0b333]“Ah.”[/color] The soft, musical clink of chains alerted him to the fact that he had raised his arms to his midsection – which was as high they could move with his bindings. He had had the urge to shake the hand of some, hug others, pat Fourteen’s head.

Why? He did not understand.

However, looking at Two, what he did know was that he felt distinct sorrow as well as pity. Approaching the container, he glanced at the pink-haired handler. [color=#f0b333]“May I greet Two, miss?”[/color] He inquired, indicating he wished to touch the glass. If given permission, he would place a palm on the tube…[/color]