Rome Termini

To the exit, there is still more than an hour. It is 22.15 clock. The train to Milan Centrale is scheduled for 23:30 on platform 13th
The ticket booth is still open. A chain of policemen in anti-riot outfit tries to two to three hundred young people to keep under control, yelling, noise hold, push, and sing out:
"Just one call, only an alarm, Milan in flames, Milan in flames!"
The head of DIGOS, with radio equipment and service trench the boys complains in Roman dialect, but failed to be heard: "Hey, if you are not good and remains silent, I'll let you put a foot on the train! HAPT you get it? The game I let you listen to the radio! Do you understand? "
On the contrary. In the same dialect, it sounds back:
"Oh Commissioner, why do not you just bugger off? From the deepest heart of this beautiful Roma "from different points of the snake:" vaffanculo Inspector, Inspector vaffanculo "!
Suddenly from the depths of the station concourse, abgeneigtesten from the little group of passengers a ticket purchase: "Hey, Commissioner! Pathetic croak, your family and all that you do not understand with a raised fist! "
And all of the Termini railway station raises his fist to "Pathetic DIE!" And again from the depths of the station the answer: "Hey, Commissioner Greet the tail here! Laugh "and all the three hundred, including cops and ticket clerks!
The crowd waits. Sitting between the bracketed pillars of the platform roof, to the grid, geflezt on the luggage carrier and the mail cart.
"Carabiniere delete fucking bull, the flame on the cap, we you!" The ordinary traveler a large bow made by the mob. Moreover, they look disgusted and outraged. You avoid the improvised bivouacs of young people around the joints and Hashish and marijuana go scented tubes can. Some run on the well-meaning complicit eyes of the cops who do so, as they would not notice anything, the Bahnhofsklotür constantly in and out.
"Latrine unit of the Colombian" someone sprayed onto the glass bathroom door. Always in groups. Boys from the same district. People from the Borgata or Parioli, makes no difference: they are the Roma Ultras. Some wear the gap with the Tozzi Clark, Levi's 501 with a deep waist and green bomber jacket, like other would-be models in the middle of the night with mirrored Ray-Bans and a black leather jacket Schott. Some hippie with long hair, yellow and red woolen hat Rohwollenschal and the Model "pulled out of the garbage," one with a shaved head and tanned like Gustavo Thoeni after a skiing World Cup race in Cortina. Guys out of life.
But all are here for the same reason.
"We are poisonous!"
You have only one motive. A single goal. Antonio revenge. The Roma fan, the four and a half months of the Milanisti at the San Siro against a Milan - Roma were murdered. And it does not matter to them if they could see the game or not. If they do not care.
And the more time passes, the more they sing. The usual chants of violence and intolerance against Milan.
"Milan - Roma, we do not forget, every Rosso Nero us from slaughter!"
They sing for the Roma and celebrate Antonio.
"Forza Roma Eoeoeoeoeooa, come as you are always faithful!
Forza Roma Eoeoeoeoeooa, come and fight with us victory! "
"Antonio has lived and fought with us to Milan Milan Vaffanculo!"
The greater the departure time draws closer, the more increase in volume and intensity of the songs.
"Milan in flames, Milan in flames!"
"Milan all hanged, hanged all Milan!"
The train is already overcrowded regular passengers. An express train, which was to depart at 23.30 clock.
Scheduled arrival in the city of enemies, Milan, in the morning at 8:15 clock. Probably the same train that had taken Antonio.
The Roma Ultras pushing the train. On the platform 8 is a bull chain, which is overrun. You control who they can do it but not to stop them.
"He who has no ticket, do not enter, right?"
All get on.
From all sides they flow like a flood. You agree that all away. Put her ass, as they like and where they want.
There are well-reserved seats, but soon the cream "Reserved" signs are on the compartment doors to filters for the joints. They close in and start to cremate bag to bag.
The car is bursting at the seams, overflowing souls from bodies and excited. The people from the other compartments throw slanted eyes and indignant. The platforms glowing with heat.
There may be more than a thousand ultras. It takes three more cars to squeeze the whole flood.
Half an hour after midnight, the train is in motion. From the cars of the second class rises a sinister roar.

On 11/15/2011 seems Domenico mongoose ultra-novel "Stray dog" (originally "Cani sciolti"). rely As always, we need your help: Liken, sharing, retelling!