CASTO

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AN ITALIAN DEMAGOGUE.

THE COUSIN OF SILVIO CASTO AND HIS RIGHT HAND MAN.

IN HIS FOURTIES, A LONG-TERM SERVANT OF THE STATE.

A FOUNDING MEMBER OF THE FUTURIST PARTY OF ROME.

A SOLITARY MAN CAST INTO THE OPEN.

AN ARTIST AND A POLITICIAN.

A CASTO.
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[Femvey]

can he beat goku tho

 

[Melonarche]

idk if he can beat goku but he can beat salads with his hands

 

[Merlinsclaw]

idk if he can beat goku but he can beat salads with his hands

 

[Aspect™]

Yum

 

[Merlinsclaw]

"Come!"
I looked, and behold, a white horse.
And he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.
And to Conquer
And to Conquer
To Conquer
To Conquer
Conquer
Conquer
Conquer
Conquer
...
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Silvio anxiously stirred in his chair. The occasional glance was shot towards Auro, who was pacing around the dimly lit room. Neither of them dared to speak; the situation instead silently weighing on their souls. For hours, this charade continued. The clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked, only interrupted by the distant gunfire and artillery blasts. Midnight came and went-- then one, two, and three A.M.

At 3:34 A.M, a redshirt militiaman burst into the room. Silvio and Auro's heads both shot over. Auro stuck his fist into his mouth. A salute was slung towards both of the men before the subordinate finally spoke.
"Duxs Casto! Alycone is victorous! Fiumen Citidel has fallen!"
A sigh of relief escaped Auro, who nearly collapsed. Silvio, simultaneously, shot up from his chair into a flurry of boasts and praise.

Victory after victory. How long could they keep this up?

Regardless of their next move, someone had to deliver the news to Rome.
Auro finally rose from the wall-crutch, silently slicking behind Silvio who was still mid-celebration.
"Are you ready to cross the Rubicon?"
...

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[Merlinsclaw]

​

The convoy - nay, procession - marched down the Via del Corso. The Victors of Fiumen, as they were called: Battle-hardened redshirts, synthetic beasts, and a synthesis of the Old and New. Thousands had poured into the streets of Rome to greet them. Celebrations like this were becoming rare - but with the Futurists, and Casto, on the rise? It was a break from the oppression growing thick in the air. Yet, it didn't hurt that the papers, now staffed by Futurist sympathizers, had played the victory up ten-fold.

Alycone and Silvio rode at the front of the parade in an open air car. Waves were exchanged to supporters and onlookers alike. One car behind them sat Auro, and a few members of the Conscripted General Staff. Auro, in his classic fashion, glanced between his watch and his feet, silent the entire parade. His peace in such a chaotic situation finally interrupted by one of Alycone's loud-mouth lackeys.
"Dux Casto! Have you picked a uniform for the Gala tonight? Surely this will be monumental, no? Aroldo is to appoint Silvio to the Senate!"
Auro cranked his head over. His response was a thin smirk; telling enough.
Auro picked at his watch again before suddenly spinning his head towards the crowd. Scanning, watching, observing.

"SPEED! YOUTH-!"

"HAIL ALYCONE, VICTOR OF FIUMEN!"
​

"DEATH TO ANARCHISTS!"

"WAR! WAR! WAR!"
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"CASTO! CASTO!"

BANG
BANG
BANG
​

Auro's head shot forward just in time to watch Silvio collapse into his seat.
All hell broke loose in seconds. Redshirts swarmed into the streets. By the time the alarms began blaring and Civil Protection swarmed the streets, the perpetrator was dead. Beaten to death by the crowd, the redshirts, or both. His body so badly defiled that identification was impossible. Though, neither of the Castos knew this.
Instead, they had sped ahead, towards the Palace, towards their future.

Moves and Counter-Moves.

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