MORITURI TE SALUTANT!! [S!4] ROUND 3- OPHIDIAN JADE!

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SpoilerMeanwhile, also immediately beforehand

Antonio Patricio Majeur Antoine Gagliardi stood before his fratelli, the followers of the Second Angel. They faced off, nervously, with the followers of the First and Third Angels, who nervously held their knives and their cudgels. Not that it would have much difference. The crowd who pushed up behind them, eager for a glimpse of the stage, made it all but impossible for them to fight.

Instead, the three groups had banded together to prevent the crowd from storming the stage and to relay information back to the huddled masses. Also, they’d barricaded the doors and they were fairly sure the roving bands of walking corpses outside were growing dangerously large in number. But soon the play would end, and it wouldn’t matter anymore.

The room was hot and growing hotter, in part because of the body heat of its occupants, and in part because of the growing fire glowing under the stage. Antonio tried hard not to watch the lines of black-clad stagehands carrying buckets labeled ‘FIRE’ back and forth, but they’d never been so… overt before. A sign that the end times were truly at hand.

Muffled crashes tore through the barricades, and shambling, mangled bodies shuffled towards the stage. Even then, some undead instinct throttled their usual moans, lowering them to a far more terrifying whisper.

Behind them, the flickering fire grew stronger. Out the corner of his eye, Antonio absolutely could not avoid seeing three of the macchinista di scena carry a triangular pyre towards the stage, and every muscle in his body fought against the rule of noninterference. His angel was going to die. They were all going to die.

Time was running out.

And then, all of a sudden, it wasn’t.