a tour around hell

At the mention of Rome, the russian almost froze in his tracks. His leader hailed from Rome? THE Rome? The very empire that had been known throuout the countries for ages? 
But he continued walking, only sending his leader a look of heightened respect. 

" I hail from Moscow, a brutal sister city of the coldest in Russia. I have heard of Rome, its civilization thriving and surviving. Of which city of Rome do you come from? "

The autumn shielded male kept pace with Hadrian, the man becoming more and more intresting. 
Vector knew of Rome. A decent amout. Its vast lands, prosperous ruling, its empire. 
But he knew most of all that an empire had rules, decencies, laws.
The wolves of Moscow had no such luxury. You had to grow up assuming what you were doing was what was expected. No fear. No feeling. No mercy. Such trifles lead to death. Just like that of his sister. She had received no warnings for helping a wounded member. No trials. No punishments. The last thing she had recieved was death, delivered from the woman who had once fed her from her own teats. Death. 

As much as Vector desired to shudder at his past, the haunting memory that wouldn't release him of its curse, he held onto his mask strongly. He would not prove his new leader, that he was weak. Vector Nikolayev was not weak.