In this world, the Pope isn't chosen by hierarchy, or voting, or fighting. The Pope is chosen, not by the people, but, as the people believe, by the heavens themselves.

The chosen go through special training, to learn what to do and how to do it. How to protect the people, and give just judgment when they're called on to make such decisions.

Only no one expected two people, brothers, to be chosen.

And they never expected for one of them to be kidnapped.

XXX

"Hey! If you want to pick on my fratello (brother), you'll have to go through me!"

The declaration was claimed in the middle of a deserted farm, not far from where the two brothers and their neighborhood bullies lived.

Standing on one side were the neighborhood bullies, two brawn-over-brains boys and a sly-looking girl who glared at the older brother.

"And what are you planning to do to protect him?" she asked, stalking over to the elder brother. "Last time I checked, you're as much of a chicken as he is!"

To prove her point, she slapped him, hard, on the cheek, laughing cruelly at the way he tumbled to the ground.

"Fratello!" the younger of the two cried out. He crawled over to his brother. "Fratello? Are you all right?"

The older brother just lay there, watching the trio while rubbing his cheek.

"Aw, the little boy isn't going to help his brother?" the girl taunted, motioning to one of the boys.

The boy that walked forward grabbed the younger brother, laughing at his squeals and failed attempts to escape his grasp.

This was a normal routine, one the bullies were content with because the brothers made such easy prey. They would sit there laughing a while longer before moving on to find another group of kids to torture.

Today, though, it was different.

They were surprised when the elder brother stood back up, looking extremely pissed. He shouted, "Stay away from my fratello!" and swung both of his arms in wide arcs across his body, pantomiming an 'x'.

The bullies probably would've thought nothing of this display, were it not for the fact that the elder brother's hands were glowing.

They screamed and ran, dropping the younger brother in the process, as yellow spikes appeared in front of the older brother and shot at them.

"F-Fratello?" the younger brother asked, walking over to the elder. They both watched as the elder brother's hands dimmed back to their normal color.

"No way…" the elder brother muttered.

"Well, looks like you managed to take care of those bullies quite well," a voice from behind them said.

They jumped, spinning around so they were facing the male that was talking to them.

He had positioned himself so the sunlight was shining down on them from right behind him, hiding his identity in shadows.

"Get away from us!" the elder brother shouted, trying to activate the power again.

The man laughed at his attempt, before grabbing the older of the two, easily lifting him off the ground.

The younger squeaked, "Fratello!"

"You're quite rambunctious!" the man said. "We'll be able to change that."

"No!" the younger brother cried as the man turned and ran away, holding his older brother in his grip. "Fratello!"

By the time the younger brother had stumbled back to his house, crying, the kidnapper and his older brother were long gone, disappearing into the dark corners of the alleys.

It was only a few days later when, alone, the younger brother learned that he, too, possessed the powers too. Only, instead of telling someone, it became his secret. Because he knew that, if he told someone, they'd stop searching for his brother.

Eight long years passed, and one day, the younger brother revealed his ability to use the holy powers involuntarily, to save his friends from the very same bullies that tortured him so long ago.

Within the hour, he had been passed into the hands of his supposedly dead grandfather, the Pope, for training, surrounded by bodyguards that would protect him for years to come.