I.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” the puppet screamed as Father Mason’s
corpse landed beside them. “He was only fucking helping people.”
“He was in the way,” the large preacher said. “And now that he’s not, we
can get back to business.”
“You fucking dipshit,” the puppet taunted. “I could shit out ten of you
before breakfast. You think I’m scared of you?”
“I don’t care,” the preacher said, stepping closer.
The puppet yanked Luke to his feet. Luke looked down at the priest’s
lifeless body. He didn’t want to share his fate.
“Maybe we should fly out of here,” Luke said.
“I’m not fucking done with this bozo,” the puppet replied, dragging Luke
toward the larger preacher.
“Good,” the preacher said. “Because I’m not done with you, heretic.”
He cracked his knuckles and took another step.
“You think you’re intimidating, fucknut?” the puppet said.
The puppet pulled Luke further up the stairs until they were face to face.
The preacher grabbed Luke’s arm and squeezed.
Luke dropped to his knees in pain. The puppet gasped.
The preacher laughed, then stopped suddenly. His eyes widened. His grip
slackened.