Cheers erupted through the halls of the barracks. A gong tolled in the distance, signaling midnight. Octavius stood at a window staring out into the darkness. Most of Rome's inhabitants had long since fallen into witless sleep, but, a party was being held for his new promotion deep within the barracks. Octavius had worked for the royal guard since the young age of sixteen. Now at the ripe age of thirty, his loyalty and dedication had not gone unnoticed by Emperor Titus.

Facing his platoon, Octavius walked towards a crystal bowl filled with the best wine. Tonight, they partied like kings. Octavius wore a white shirt that clung tight and came about halfway down his upper arm. Around his waist, he wore a red skirt with pleated slits. A strap was wound against his thigh and up the leg, it connected to sandals under his feet. The guards wore tight garments for easy movements during battle. The centurion also wore a brown leather belt that hung down against his skirt for protection along with a breastplate and helmet that had red course fibers sticking out on top. Octavius, along with the other men, forwent theses for more casual attire.

Reaching the table, Octavius raised his glass. The lights from the candlelit rooms made the crystal glisten. "Men," he addressed his peers, "as you all know, I've been offered the position of general. Since I'm unmarried and unburdened by children, I have accepted the offer, and starting yesterday, I am your general." The men raised their glasses and cheered for their new commander. Chuckling, Octavius sipped his wine. He looked at each of his soldiers as brothers. Thinking, about serving several years with these men, elated him. 

Pulling him from his thoughts, a gong rang violently outside. The centurions ended their Galla and rushed about the room, grabbing their armor. Taking a deep breath, Octavius adorned his helmet, breastplate, and belt. Watching his men march out, he grabbed his scabbard and a long cape. He attached the cape under his shoulder pads. This cape signified far and near that was in charge of a great company of men. Smirking, the general spun on his heels and marched out the door into the courtyard. 

Marching forward, Octavius watched the men line up. They stood on the cobblestone pavement. A man, wearing a long purple toga with golden accents. A golden headband that fluted out with golden leaves, curved downwards behind his ears. Emperor Titus was the true display of Rome's strength and power. A smile pulled at Octavius' lip. The Emperor himself served in the Centurions under his father. Titus was a man of war and bloodshed like himself. 

"Men," the Emperor proclaimed, "I have a job for you." Ocativs stood attention. "It has been brought to my attention that the Christan church is growing and the church is growing to be to contain." Octavius' brown eyes watched him pace with his hands behind his back. Coming to a sudden stop, Titus slammed his foot on the ground and spun towards the men. "Your job cut down the Christians. Let them know the Roman Empire is watching their every move and they can't even breath without fearing an attack from us." 

Stepping forward, Octavius pulled his sword from his scabbard and raised it in the air. He turned the blunt side towards his chest and placed it upon his right breastplate. "You have your orders men." He shouted. "Tonight, the streets will run red!" Around the two men, a battle cry erupted. The centurions were ready. In one swift movement, Octavivus raised his blade, before sheathing it once more. "Move out!" The General marched forward with his company following close behind. The company traversed through the darkened streets. Houses were darkened with their inhabitants asleep. 

Reaching a district in the poverty section of town, known for housing Christians. Coming to a stop, Octavivou raised his hand giving the signal to halt progress. Turning, he faced the men. "You have your orders. You may begin." He commanded. Cheering, the men brach out, broke doors down and rampaged through the housing block. Cries sounded through the night. Flames burned the rooftops. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. His favorite job as a centurion was burning houses while people were trapped inside. 

Gawking at the chaos his men created, he noticed a house at the end of the street, standing untouched. His smirk quickly turned into a frown. Keeping his eyes on his men, he stalked towards the house. The house sat quiet, too quiet. Peering around the house, he noticed a candle flickered in the back of the house. Shrugging, Octavius went ventured to the front of the house, raised his foot and kicked the door in. 

A baby's cry welcomed his ears as the door flew out of sight. Stepping through the door, Octavius scowled. Inside the house were two women sitting at an elongated table. A thin woman in blue cuddled a crying baby. While a woman in purple stood, prepared to make a run for it. "Imperial Army," He proclaimed, "by order of Emperor Titus, you're condemned to death." Tears welled up in her eyes. Her lips moved, yet they uttered not a word. In one swift move, he pulled his sword from his scabbard and ran the woman and her baby through. 

Avoiding the attack, the woman in purple rushed out of the room and into the back of the house. From the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman leave the room. Gripping his sword, he raced after her. A door slammed shut. The general smirked and kicked the door in. Stepping inside he glanced around. The room was fairly empty, all that was in the small room, was a cradle, a table, a chair, and a candle. Moving slowly in the room, he glanced about. A blunt object hit him in the back of his head. Broken pieces of clay fell around him. 

Growling, Octavius readjusted his helmet. "You'll regret that." The woman rushed for the crib, picked up a bundle from within it confines and left through the window. "Stop." He demanded. He crawled through the window as well and continued his pursuit. The woman had already made her way down the back alley. Gripping his sword tight, he followed and gained upon her. The woman gripped her child close against her chest, the stumbled and fell. Tears cascade down her cheeks as the general came upon her. With a quick swing from his arm. The woman cried out. Blood raced from her wound.

Rising an eyebrow, Octavius reached down and grabbed the young child. The baby smiled then rubbed its eyes. The captain sheathed his sword. He reached for a dagger instead. He was going to put this child out of its misery. Opening its eyes, the captain felt captured in its violet gaze. The baby giggled then snuggled against his arm. Octavius froze. He had to destroy this unholy vermin before it could destroy Roman as he knew it. The captain stared into the child's sleeping face. He wanted nothing to do with kids yet he felt drawn to it. Octavius' hand shook. He dropped the dagger on the ground. Though unsure why, he could not take the baby's life. Pulling his cloak around him, he wrapped the baby up and disappeared without a trace.