The Ministry had been built in a rather peaceful spot on the rolling hills of Italy. A little damp near the lake, but comfortable nonetheless. Little happened, mostly because people weren’t really interested in visiting an establishment dedicated to Devil worship.

Copia strode through the hallways of the Ministry, a stack of books and various papers in hand. He figured he’d stop by Saltarian’s office, poke fun at him for a little bit before he headed to his own. Just as he walked by the door, though, he heard a loud banging on the other side of it. “It’s open-” he started, only for the whole thing to come falling down a moment later. He jumped back, stacks of very important papers long forgotten.

“What the Hell is this place?” one of the men demanded as he stepped inside. Copia had to choke back a laugh at the man’s odd facial hair. Mutton chops? Certainly an odd choice for the century. Oh, and he was holding a gun. “You. Where are we?”

Copia jumped back, startled. There were more of them; three, to be exact, all interesting characters. Mutton chops, mohawk, skull mask. The only normal one was standing beside the bearded man with an angry voice. He instinctively put his hands up, trying to look back at the door. Imperator wasn’t going to be happy about that. “Italy,” he swallowed.

He watched as the mohawk-shaven man nailed the masked one in the shoulder. “Looks like you’d fit in just fine here,” he murmured, Scottish accent low as he gestured to Copia’s face. Skull paint.

“Why’re we here?” the bearded man demanded. Copia figured he was their general/leader/captain/whatever. He hardly knew anything about the Italian military, much less this angry British man.

“Politely,” Copia started, taking a small step back. “You are the one who busted our Church’s door down, so-”

He huffed, very quickly shutting Copia up. As the men looked around, they knew they weren’t in a military establishment; not even a makeshift one. Neither were sure what to do.