The first rocket's burst almost reminded Antonio of days on the high seas, and the battles between ships that usually ended up in disaster. (For him, at any rate.) The feeling of foreboding almost canceled out the electric excitement in the air.

The ground trembled, as the rumble of hooves on stone began- soft soled tennis shoes didn't make as much of an impression, but he could feel those as well. Antonio knew the distance between the pens and the arena. A half a mile- (825 meters, if one were to convert to the newer methods of measuring things, as most of his people did, but Spain remembered...) it wasn't far, but it could be dangerous.

He was here because he wanted to prove to Romano that he hadn't become completely soft- it was not like he could be killed by one of these massive bulls, and the thrill of danger, of the possibility of injury had not left his blood, no matter what England might have done to his precious Armada. Spain's history was not a peaceful one, no matter how he had become more so of late. The bullfighting was just one more reminder.

Slowly the small crowd began to move. The true race would begin shortly, as the bulls themselves began to stampede towards the arena.

Right on time, the pounding earth signaled that at least one of the enormous animals had begun to run. Then another- and another.

The quickening of heartbeats around him only made Antonio smile. Not all the runners were his people, but the mix of adrenaline, fear and sweat was as familiar to him as his own names. Today would be a good run.

The pace was set- but out of the corner of his eye, Antonio saw a scrawny teenager trip, sprawling on the pavement like a ragdoll. Didn't the officials watch out for people who weren't fit to run anymore?

Breaking through the crowd, Spain reached down for the … wait. It was a girl. A scrawny, underage girl, who was from his southern coast, and-

The thundering was too close, and Adelina had twisted her ankle.

Shouts from above and beyond the barricades warned Antonio of the impending onslaught of bovine creatures, but the nearest barricade was a half dozen steps away. Spain wasn't going to let her be trampled by a force of nature.

Slinging the girl in his harms, Antonio sprinted for the barricade, feeling the hot breath of one such creature on the back of his neck. Too slow. Too slow.

Something scratched through the first layer of fabric, through to skin- deeper- and then that one was speeding on its way. The earth itself was vibrating from the force of the animals running. Skidding as they went around the corner-

A scream from above told him about the massive beast- (El toro monstruo, one of the largest most promising bulls of the season) – as it slipped on the cobblestones, staggered, and- Antonio shoved the girl over the barricade to the waiting arms of the spectators. If he took the time to carry her under, Monstruo would crush them both- as it was..

The weight of the creature smashed Spain against the wooden structure, then dragged him along the building. As the bull regained its footing, it lurched away, leaving his broken body behind.

Painful? Yes.

But Antonio had died in worse ways. His eyes slipped closed as the remaining stampede passed, some hooves hitting him, some missing- he couldn't fault the creatures for acting on instinct, for running- nor could he fault any of the humans who were so horror struck as to not attempt to reach him. He already knew it was too late, and by the time the professionals got there-

But his Addy was safe, and Romano... he might be impressed (grudgingly so, of course, like he had been when rescued from Turkey's grasp so long ago) if he was watching.

Antonio smiled faintly, as the safety of death pulled him close yet again.

Perhaps...

Yes.

Romano would be there when he awakened once again. Antonio just knew it.

Spain slept.