Even the devil sneers at confession

will not be heard or helped by the dead gods of B2.

The Holy Father, after one man's confession, marveled at how lust sometimes gets out of control and clouds the mind. But what to speak of the Father himself, he sat in the pew, legs wide apart, with his robe up, and sinned in front of God. The Holy Father, with lust clouded with chilling arctic aquamarine eyes, was pulling back his foreskin, clamping the not inconsiderable gab with his fist, giving himself as much pleasure as possible. But whether lust was Great, then the Lord had mercy and gave only a couple of minutes to calm the need and reminded that to engage in obscenity, sin within the walls of God is indecent, and a couple of movements from the strong palm of a muscular hand, and Platina reached the limit. He poured himself into the hem of his cassock. Having quenched his thirst for lust he rested his head on the bench with a sense of bliss, and smiled at his thoughts. - For I have sinned. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. It was spontaneous. I am no stranger to need. My flesh needs its pleasures. - If I didn't want it, it didn't happen. Nothing just happens. You thought you wanted it, and you were overcome. - they answered him. - I cannot resist my desires. For I am a man. He lay down on the bench, one foot on it, the other resting on the floor. He put his left hand behind his head, put his right hand on his chest and smiled at the bitter irony of his hard fate, and drops flowed involuntarily from the corners of his aquamarine eyes like ice. Victor indulged in reminiscence, how he "got" to such a life ... It was even a sin to call it debauchery. Holy Father Victor, thanks to a powerful lady, is now a clergyman. He's Balalaika's loyal sidekick, after Boris. Sofia Pavlovna Irinovskaya is that 《same lady》 the most dangerous and ruthless female mafioso head of the Russian mafia organization "Hotel Moscow". A Soviet Airborne Forces officer with the rank of captain. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, she created a powerful criminal group in Southeast Asia from her former soldiers, one of whom was now engaged in obscenity. In the Afghan War she received severe burns, which caused some mobsters to call her "palyonaya". A skillful and ruthless strategist. Brutal, direct, vengeful. An excellent marksman and sniper, for which she got her nickname "balalaika", one of the army slang names for the Dragunov sniper rifle. Flashback ***Memories of Viktor - I'm sorry, Mikhail. Everybody wants to live. - That's the last thing the Asian man said, stepped over him and moved on. Mikhail's a valuable trophy, and he's worth more in pieces. - Exactly. I want to live too. - Mikhail answered faintly. Mikhail Thirteen is a recruit of eighteen years. For two years he saw, killed, and later, when after the army was nothing light, went to the mercenaries. And as a mercenary, experienced betrayal. He became a mercenary in the bloodiest, most ruthless city of Roanapur. Roanapur is considered by many, including its residents, to be a den of crime and corruption. Roanapur is an old Thai port in southern Thailand where deserters and losers of the Vietnam War found refuge, joined by some of the worst villains and criminals on the planet. The population of Roanapur is made up of prostitutes, drug addicts, mercenaries, murderers and psychopaths of all nationalities. The most notorious groups in Roanapur are the Church of Violence. The "Church of Violence", "Triad" and "Hotel Moscow". Some lesser known groups are the Italian Mafia, the Colombian cartel, an unnamed crime syndicate and the CIA. The pay for Michael as a mercenary was not small, but he realized what he was doing, and that the job did not justify the risk. And he knew that you don't come back alive. Mikhail was afraid of losing what he held dear. He has a great thirst for life. And that thirst kept him alive. He wasn't fearless, but he had something to lose. He wouldn't let the last of it be taken away. His coolness, his ferocity, his ruthlessness, the ability to wield all kinds of weapons, the ability to hit the target with a single shot at great distance and speed, animal reflexes, a plan of action in extreme conditions, self-defense skills helped him avoid the breath of death. He valued his life, and often said that there was nothing in this world worth dying for. And no one thing was worth it, he just needed the money not to make himself miserable. If there was a chance to make money without harm or risk, he would take it - but not by dirty means - though he knew who he was cheating. Everything in this world is bought and sold. This life without honor or conscience, where human life is valued cheaply. No one needs your honesty if it's useless. Honesty is shit. And betrayal is valued - if you want to live. Sometimes many people even dictate who should live and who should die. That's why it's unlikely you'll make money the right way. During the service, Mikhail became friends with an Asian man who also became a mercenary. They started working together. The Asian became more than a friend, a brother. He was willing to sell his soul for him. And betray. For the sake of a good future..... his own. Arrogant Asian Tsugio Bando, a brutal, arrogant, self-righteous, sadistic killer. No particular charisma. His appearance was kind of slippery, but not repulsive, though not trustworthy. He had an older brother about whom little was known. He was aware of Tsugio's business, but preferred a different business. He was a "nerd." Asian had huge plans for a good future as well. But Asiat was tired of risking his life every time, and he quickly found another way to easy big money, and profitably played the role of a loyal friend, who even on special operations covered Michael, and there was no doubt that he could ever betray anyone. He had connections. And considering where they worked as mercenaries, the "business" flourished, and brought income to all. Though this business was not much different from the first. The leader of the whole thing was former Lieutenant Colonel Fritz Stanford, demoted for the dirty deeds he had done in the army. A high-ranking officer, sold army equipment, and even soldiers for substantial fees, wrote off everything that could be, for which he was sent to the tribunal. He avoided jail time thanks to a huge bail. He found something to do, got back on the dirty track, met Tsugio, whom he later helped to make a fortune. Started running his own little Washimine group. Lt. Col. Stanford appreciated this antipathetic type, and the ease and ruthlessness with which he "got" everything. It was Tsugio who mined, and the ex-lieutenant colonel who sold, enriched himself and shared the profits. The Asian was getting a considerable amount of money from his illegal earnings. Mikhail became a casual witness to this, asked where the money came from, but received an evasive answer. Mercenaries are paid a lot of money, but not that much! Tsugio realized that Mikhail would not give up so easily, he might accidentally tell someone somewhere, though he was not a talkative person. And it was necessary to get him on his side somehow. There was only one way out - to tell everything, and to offer Mikhail solid sums, and what great and not risky future awaits them, and at the same time to profit and on Mikhail. And the more I listened to Mikhail, the more I fucked up. Asia betrayed those who would be the last to be missed. The way he did it made Mikhail speechless. *** The dirty, ruthless, brutal business wasn't pot. This "business" was human trafficking. People soon found themselves as donors out of choice. The lonely, the abandoned, among them homeless, prostitutes, drug addicts, were dismantled for "usable parts". Tsugio thought this way, to rid the civilian population that remained in Roanapur of the filth that sometimes suffered from them. This unnecessary filth in society, which is of no use. No one will miss them anyway. Taking one's last life, and thinking you're the Executioner, the Disposer, is the lowest of lowliness. But he didn't think he was scum. It was as if the city itself was telling him what to do. Tsugio had promised these cunts "a good living," and asked them to come with him. And nothing more was ever known about them. Stanford was in charge from above. Fritz sold these usable "spare parts" outside Roanapur for a decent sum. He thought he was doing it for the greater good. For the good of those who needed them. But no one knew how the needy were given a chance at life. The authorities knew about this "business". But they couldn't shut them down. First of all, the authorities themselves were tired of fighting with this filth, no, no peaceful citizens suffered from them, repeated complaints were written, but no one could do anything. These "parasites" multiplied like ants. That's why the lawmen themselves decided to put order by other people's hands, and entrusted their work on cleaning up the dirt to those who could rid the peaceful population of parasites. The executioners profited from this, and also gave the authorities a substantial fee. Those who suffered were deprived of their future. This unnecessary filth in society, which is of no use. No one would miss them anyway. And Fritz even thought the same way as Tsugio. One day Frinz hinted to Tsugio that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take someone cleaner apart. Maybe some missing mercenary. The lowlifes are of little use to this filth. Two or three usable organs, tops. But a healthy one would be good for a lot of money. Tsugio took that to heart. He had a healthy, hardy, clean, fit one in mind. *** When Michael was also offered to participate in this final outrage and horror, he refused without hesitation. He thought for a moment that he was also essentially a nobody, just a mercenary, who could also be missed, and that he could also be among those who had been sold in pieces. He felt uneasy. He didn't know that his fate had already been prepared for him. Michael didn't give a shit about those bastards, it was their own fault that they had come to such a life, but he still read the speech about how no one had the right to decide who was going to be sold to whom. He gave this lecture for a very long time. It was impossible to leave Mikhail as a witness He had learned so much. We had to get rid of him quietly. We had to set it up, or just take him out. "Set up" was the easy part. And Asia went for it. At night, when everyone was asleep in one stone barracks, he left a suicide note to Mikhail about how much he regretted what had happened. He was sure Mikhail would bite. He did. The Asian man was sorry: How much he wanted to get away from his life, make money and live peacefully. He didn't want to go mercenary, but life forced him to. He just wanted to live a good life, and a peaceful life. He just needed the money. He thought if he earned it, he'd have some privileges, and he could study with it. He wanted to get out of this purgatory, this meat grinder. He wanted to live like a human being without killing anyone. That's how this hell affected him. He regretted the fact that a lot of people would do anything for money. And that the temptation was too great to refuse. He didn't take this horrible deal for a good life. And when he realized that nothing had changed, it was too late. The money clouded his mind, and that he didn't realize it was just as blood money. And he even mentioned that leaving one bloody and merciless path, he returned to the same one, only as a spotter. The only difference was the terrain - a city that differed little from the war zone. The principle remained the same. Tsugio didn't give anyone away, just wrote that he left bodies in certain places, from where they were picked up. A lot of loud and truthful words were said, without a hint of falsity. Mikhail realized that Asia was right somewhere. And that after the army, not everyone has a good future, and not everyone wants to go to certain death. Mikhail himself didn't have much of a choice. And he himself wanted to get off the bloody path. But where? To ensure his future, you need a huge amount of money. He didn't even have a place to live. And the money he'd saved up wouldn't be enough for her. And then how to live, what to do. There are ways out. But which way again? Did Asiatic wake up his conscience? Or did he get scared? And what is he up to? Mikhail seemed suspicious, where Asiatic was going and decided to follow him, but did not forget to take his constant companion, in the unsightly darkness he could determine her location and silhouette by touch. But his hand reached for nothing. Mikhail looked around, nothing. But it was necessary to go. On sharp rocks, an Asian man sat on his knees. He was shedding bitter tears and reciting a prayer. A masked man stood nearby, pointing a rifle at the Asian. That rifle. Mikhail recognized it. It was his life. His faithful companion who had never betrayed him, but now so treacherously in the wrong hands. Mikhail looked at his rifle, at his life, and didn't think that it would take his life. It's ironic. To die at the hands of the one who had been with Mikhail to the end, who had always danced to his tune and understood him. Even when there was only one bullet left, and there was no hope for salvation, Mikhail's life was in the hands of this rifle. Does Michael's life now depend on its action? Many times it had been attempted to be stolen, and magically it had ended up back in the Master's possession. Mikhail didn't let on. The situation was still to be sniffed out. With the note in his hands, he cautiously and slowly approached Tsugio at safe meters, and could not understand anything. Michael was on guard, assessing the situation, and looking around warily. His heart was quietly beating out a rhythm. - Mikhail, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry about what happened. God knows. I didn't mean to. - justified Asian, on his knees for greater conviction, sobbing. - I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. - he continued. Mikhail would have forgiven him, but there was something wrong with the situation. Did Mikhail think that the man with the rifle was an executioner, hired by Tsugio himself to redeem himself in this way? Mikhail couldn't take any more risks, so he didn't make a move. - Mikhail, please. You must forgive me. And....-a pause. A deep sigh. - I beg you not to curse me from the Otherworld. - Asian continued, and nodded positively. Mikhail became even more wary. Mikhail was in no hurry to die. What is this Asian talking about? Is he healthy at all? Mikhail took a couple of steps back, looked around, and prepared internally to retreat, and in case of what defense. Tsugio jumped to his feet lightning fast, realized Mikhail, and in time handed him a rifle, stopped the muzzle aimed at Mikhail's head. The rifle both betrayed and saved the Master in such a strange and demonic way. The M16, which worked perfectly in Mikhail's hands, jammed in the traitor's hands, became heavier, leaned lower, and hit not between the eyes, but in the solar weave. Inexplicably, the once-martial cartridge that Mikhail had always loaded it with turned out to be a blank. Tsugio knew that Mikhail never loaded the rifle with blank cartridges, and knew that the rifle was loaded with a live cartridge. Everyone felt Michael's thirst for life. Both the Dark and Light Forces, and perhaps she contributed to this turn of events. The bullet was a blank, but it severely damaged Mikhail's chest. The bones were badly damaged, but no vital organs were hit. It must have sensed the Master's thirst for life. But it wasn't just the rifle that saved his life. A wooden cross hidden under his clothes took the brunt of the blow, but the impact was still felt. - I'm sorry, Mikhail. Everybody wants to live. - was the last thing the Asian man said, stepped over him and moved on. Mikhail's parts were more expensive. Asian will not carry his friend to the "destination" on his own hands. It was too heavy a burden for him. His friend, after all. The Asian planned to sell Mikhail for more. Piece by piece. A nearby man stood guard over the wounded man. Mikhail clung to his life with all his might. He screamed in his mind - why? And only this will to live, kept him, and thanks to it, he managed to eliminate the executioner, and somehow reach not to his own, but to the nearest church. - Exactly. I also want to live. - replied Mikhail. The Asian ran away without knowing what happened to Mikhail. The Asian's goal was to profit from such a tidbit. For Mikhail he was promised a fabulous sum, and a divine life. A huge villa, a peaceful rich country, a risk-free business, a good life of patronage and power - that was what Tsugio was aiming for. He knew that no one would miss Michael either, these mercenaries were either missing or liquidated. *** Bandaged, barely breathing, with one leg out, Mikhail lay in the church hospital. Mikhail cried out in despair, crying out in his heart. This cry of despair was so great that it was affecting his wounds. From his heartache and condition, his wounds were very slow to heal, he was in excruciating, hellish pain. Unbearable. From beating in agony at what was about to be done to him. Even passed out. But they'd bring him back to life again. It was as if someone was holding him and shouting You must live. And he held on. He understood. He had to live no matter what. After a few days, he devastated, switched his thinking, and put out the heartache for a while, crossed that threshold, and began to gradually recover. He was surprised himself at how quickly he came back to normal. The wounds were healing. The physical scars were reminders of the past, but the internal ones. They were incurable, and would not heal. His soul had been to hell, fought over by devils. And it was returned to Michael again. Mikhail held on to his life. And let it be hard, empty, without meaning and any goals, but it was his life. Life was the only thing left in this life. And this Judas decided to take that life away. And in such a dirty, sneaky way. Michael was betrayed like a dog. Walked over him and moved on. For what? Mikhail never parted with his rifle, even when he was covered in bandages. He held it with a dead grip, and no one minded. The morning rays of the sun, through the closed windows, caressed Mikhail's weary, wounded body. It seemed to him that the sun favored him and he should get up to say hello. In the morning someone from the church staff brought Michael breakfast: warm beef broth and fresh bread. Nearby, warm tea and honey. Mikhail did not like heavy breakfasts, but he sipped a little of the broth, felt a surge of strength, later took a couple of sips of tea, adding honey to it, got out of bed, took his rifle and went to the window. His clothes were neatly folded in the corner on the bench, and a subtle scent of feminine perfume wafted through the air. But as far as he knew, none of the nursing staff tried not to use perfume so that the odors wouldn't affect the patients. The scent was pleasant. He looked out the window, determined to greet his comrade Sunshine. The rumor of what happened to Mikhail reached Hotel Moscow as well Mikhail told about it to the nun Eda, who visited him from time to time. Eda is an undercover CIA agent, a nun from the Church of Violence. Her friend Revy was interested in "sick" and the rumor reached all the way to Balalaika, whom Revy calls "sister" Last night...Flashback Balalaika made inquiries about Mikhail, and learned that when he was a mercenary, it was he who cleared the way for Hotel Moscow for those who were difficult to approach. She does not tolerate losses among her veterans, so she usually uses mercenaries or her allies as cannon fodder, but they often used Mikhail's services as backup. Given his superhuman sniper skills, thanks to which, losses were avoided. But she wasn't going to use Mikhail that way. He's her man. He's not an ally, not a veteran, nor is he a mercenary anymore, but just a man. Vladilena aka Balalaika - decided to look with her own eyes at someone who wasn't afraid to face death. The blonde appeared in the doorway, wearing her usual wine-red skirt suit, medium-heeled shoes, and an overcoat thrown over her shoulders. Behind her stood her faithful handmaiden Boris. She entered the ward in the twilight, took a long look at the one who had escaped this atrocity. Balalaika handed the overcoat to Boris, he slung it over his forearm, stood and watched in silence. Vladilena took Mikhail's clothes from the chair that Eda had brought, (a wide comfortable one and Eda had folded it carelessly on the chair somehow), put them on her lap, then sat down. She was struck by the way in which Mikhail was torn to live. She looked at him for a long time, and thought about something. She was dying to smoke. For her there were no prohibitions in smoking. This rule was not written for her. She sighed, reached for a cigar, sniffed it, and twirled it in her hands. Vladilena felt that it was not worth doing that right now. Mikhail's lung was intact, but he needed fresh, clean air. And cigars would complicate the situation. And before, she would have spit on all the taboos, but not now. She sighed, stood up, folded his clothes neatly on a chair, Boris threw his overcoat over her shoulders, and she also silently left, leaving behind in the air, the scent of fine perfume. Flashback end *** " Today, December 4, the Legend of Soviet Hockey - Viktor Nikiforov was born. A physically strong hockey player, he possessed an incredibly strong and accurate shot. Excellent physical data, stable landing, soft sliding, interesting peculiar bypass, understanding of game situations made him a formidable forward, striving to score at all costs" - passed on the radio wave, about the Legends of Sports of the USSR. Mikhail cast a fleeting glance at the telephone radio, listened with one ear, carefully dressed in the widest and most comfortable clothes that did not cause discomfort, and decided that his games with death were over. He'd have enough of what he'd earned as a mercenary to get a job somewhere and live. He didn't have to go far for money. The card was in the rifle. But the passport. Passport. What about the passport. He didn't need it either, now he was absolutely liquidated for everyone. He's a completely different person. Victor wanted revenge, wanted reprisals. The same. But he wasn't physically ready. And turning to Balalaika, who had gotten to know him quite well during his recovery, was not in his principles. He just wanted revenge like hell. To do the same thing to him Nothing will just happen - unless you dream and think about this or that event, feeling, situation. Victor will be heard by the right people. She will become the Angel of Death. *** Moments of recovery. Victor liked to enjoy the fresh frosty air in the morning, and it lasted often. Victor stands with rifle in hand, looking out into the distance. Far away from the pure, innocent clouds. His platinum hair, medium length, is visible from under his cap and develops in the wind. And his muscular strong hands hold his sniper rifle as if his life does not depend on the rifle, the rifle is his life. Victor stares with his empty and chilling aquamarine eyes, the face of an android, programmed for only one command. He stares as if through clouds, warily looking around. Mechanically, he kisses the surviving wooden cross on the rope he forged himself and hides it back in his clothes. When it was very bad, when Victor's comrades died in his arms, he carried them himself to see them off in a human and honorable way. He read passages from the Bible and prayed himself. Realized who he was kidding, where the Gods were. He was good at reading prayers, quoting the Bible, he did not believe in God, but he was not against believers. It's their business - a person believes in what they want to believe in, everyone has their own object of worship. Victor doesn't believe in God. He doesn't believe in anything. Only in himself. But for some reason he went to church. *** Vladilena didn't think that when Mikhail got back on his feet, she would have keep this kind of 《blessed metal》 to herself. He would become a part of her faction, but just not within the faction itself, but externally as a Svyatoshi. And she made the right and safe decision. Oh, and Victor was fine with it, and agreed for many reasons: Victor with huge stubble, loose platinum hair, calm at first glance. Clothes in which also gave away in him Batya. Black loose-fitting pants, and a black balakhon. The hoodie concealed not only his rifle - which Platina never parted with - but also his wound. He was badly wounded - and tight clothes caused discomfort, so he temporarily wore this balakhon - under which endless meters of bandages. Victor couldn't ignore her request and tell her he wasn't the Holy Father, because he could see the pain in her eyes and that she just needed someone to share it with. He accepted her, all the more reason for him to be a holy man. His measured, calm, soft and almost quiet voice soothed, cleansed, and guided her to the path of righteousness. The parishioner went to the confessional and began to confess. Victor confessed her. After one confession, the parishioners increased in frequency there. The parishioners were pleased with how attentively they were listened to, counseled, forgiven, Victor is a good listener. He's a great listener. Balalaika was not wrong to make him a Batiu and witnessed him confessing. Victor is a great manipulator, a psychologist, he does not directly force to confess "about what is troubling", but in a roundabout way. Victor competently dripped on their brains, forced people not to hide anything from God's eyes, because what you do in secret, you do in front of God. The confessors became more talkative and told him secrets they were afraid to share even with themselves. So Vitya, aka the God of Death, became the main informant and church mafioso - who laughed after every confession over the confessions of those who were afraid of God's punishment and decided to purify themselves. But no one sometimes even God himself felt remorse in their confessions, not to mention the Devil who mocked their confessions. Svyatosha recorded all the confessions on a tape recorder so that he wouldn't forget. He 《covered himself with the church》 and used it to learn about secret operations, which were later passed on to the "own". Balalaika got this non-believer in right away. Ed was also mentored within the walls of God's church of violence. Church of violence: illegal possession of guns, coasters, ammunition, deals, a bomb shelter, and a torture dungeon. Who's gonna check out the church nobody? -Shame on you, questioning God's reputation, the holy men replied. We're not sinners. Second reason. Curiosity. He liked to listen, and marvel that there was no limit to human cunning, and what people are willing to do. Victor was interested in what sins people could rush to church for, and what gnawed at them, how much they realized what they had done, that their conscience began to torment them. Or not? Because they're afraid of God's punishment? When they sinned, they didn't think that all actions have a price. And another reason, Victor was tired of risking his life for those who didn't deserve it. He often encountered traitors among his own. That wound was from one of his own. A close and loyal comrade - who himself had once covered Victor. That traitor had been promised a large sum of money, patronage and much more if he gave up his own. He did. And Victor, with scars from his traitor and loyal friend, now wears this crucifix. *** While Michael recovered, Tsugio searched for his body, but never found it. He gave up, and decided to become the head of the Washimine. Tsugio decided that there was no place for two Kings on one throne, and in the same style as Fritz, he decided to get rid of him. But he didn't have to stay on the throne for long. Tsugio wanted to get his hands on a lot more, and when he was also being pushed around and out, he tried to use Hotel Moscow to increase control over his group. Hotel Moscow wasn't going to cover for anyone, and given the way the leader Vasimine had treated Viktor, Balalaika had one very important mission in mind. When Hotel Moscow literally began to get rid of the Vasimine members piece by piece, their leader went underground, the cogs were loyal to their leader, so they were eliminated as well She grinned. - You are loyal to the traitor. - And then a gunshot sounded, with an ironic and evil smile on Balalaika's face. It was as if the spreader of this filth was vaporized. But nothing is impossible for Balalaika. *** Victor was also hatching some plan of revenge, but nothing could be realized yet. His plans were falling apart like a house of cards. Tsugio was impossible to get close to, much less meet. Though his physical condition favored Victor, he wouldn't go barehanded and direct? Enough risks. Balalaika, meanwhile, had already gone out to Tsugio, luring him in with the same method he'd once used on "Michael". The note said that Balalaika would still cooperate and increase control over Washimine, but only for a fabulous fee. Tsugio was generous. But when he realized that he was trapped, and realized that the situation was getting out of control, he tried to kill Balalaika, and at the end, "Fallen" was heard. Since the right side of her face, neck, and chest are covered in scars from burns received in the war. For this reason, some of her enemies call her "Fallen". Those who call her by this nickname usually don't live long. As a result, he was killed by her. And his dismembered corpse was returned to his brother in a suitcase, in the best traditions of Roanapur, and this was a warning to Tsugio's brother. His brother was never heard of or seen after that incident. Balalaika took revenge not only for herself, but also for Victor. This revenge she served cold. Whether Victor was satisfied that Balalaika had done justice with her own hands or not, he has no definite answer. But on the other hand, she was not only avenging Victor, and therefore unnecessary questions fall away. And yes, he's certainly happy that this is how retribution is done. You can't forget what life is like now. If it's not you, it's you. A girl came into the confessional, she was silent for a long time, but Father Victor did not hurry to talk to her. He understood everything without words. She left, leaving behind the scent of a familiar fine perfume ... Father Victor is still uncomfortable, and he often ponders: "What was the whole show for? You apologized not for what you'd done, but for what you'd do. To me. To take me apart. For your own gain, for your own good and purposes, so dirty. For what? You thought killing me would make your life better. I'm the kind of man who doesn't believe there's anything in this world worth dying for. You valued my life like that? So my life is nothing, and you're holding on to yours? Is this some kind of cover charge, for covering yourself? You're gonna decide how to pay off my debt? You put a price on it, and you thought you could speed up the repayment? The feeling made him uncomfortable. Victor was literally twisting into a knot, vomiting. He even spit all over a tree near his church. And at night he wakes up in a cold sweat, and heat. He dreams of horrors. Relieving the tension the old-fashioned way gives him fleeting relief. He's so eager to live. That no matter how painful life fucks him, he'll endure any pain. A vile, unfair, corrupt, corrupt fucking life. But it's his. It hurts him mentally and physically. But he took those blows. That's how he "got" to such a life that even sinning in front of God doesn't seem like a sin anymore.