Wages of Sin
| Wages of Sin | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 24 February 2013 |
| Location: | Cleyra |
| Synopsis: | Graverobbing! Okay no. Percival seeks to confirm whether he's done a terrible thing. |
| Cast of Characters: | Percival |
On the radio he’d been entirely calm, nonchalant. The Gargoyle had briefly discussed what happened to his allies in the Twilight Detective’s Agency. Then a frightening possibility came up, which had him rushing towards Cleyra.
So far he’d kept himself at arm’s length with most of the TDA, and had kept his feelings close to the chest. He’d spoken of what happened in a manner akin to how one would discuss a menial task. You see, while his calling was one that was expected to deal with death out rather frequently, he wasn’t supposed to think of himself as a murderer.
If they thought of him as a murderer, then he wasn’t sure how he’d cope. They were actively trying to bring about the restoration of his world. Without them, where would he be?
Oh he knew he was the black sheep amongst them. He was stuffy, naïve, and frequently arrogant. They were put off by him. But he cared for each and every one of them. They were all he had.
He’d murdered again. And worse yet, he’d failed three other souls. One of whom may now be living an unholy existence thanks to his failure. He could act as if it were nothing around them, but he couldn’t hide the fact from himself.
Later on, in Cleyra
He had no choice but to do it at night, and so he’d prepared himself. Holy water, a wooden stake, an unlit torch, garlic, and a cross. He had no idea what the vampires of this world would be vulnerable to. The one who would have sired this one died to three bullets to the head, but she’d already been significantly weakened. Who could say what would happen this time?
It wasn’t hard to gain permission from the local monastery to do this. After all, he’d buried them only a few evenings previous, what reason would he have to defile or rob their bodies now? While he might have been inclined to dig the grave with his own bare talons, he had sense enough to realize that he was potentially digging up an unholy creature of the night. Offering his own limbs to it as its first meal would not be the wisest course. And so, he borrowed a simple shovel.
He didn’t even have to go through the process of elimination, he knew which one it would be. Using the shovel, he began to work away at the earth that covered the grave. While they weren’t interred in coffins, he hadn’t made them shallow. Digging the graves had been a labor of penance for the Gargoyle. It took him some time to make any progress, as he cast aside the soil one load at a time. As he put his back into it, he thought only of the Burmecian woman’s last words to him.
"...He was my Brother. Last one of my family.”
“Did 'em a favor. Would've been nice and clean if it weren't for an idiot like you."
“A pox on your soft-hearted morals!”
The gunshot that rang out when she took her own life still echoed in his memory.
Sweat gathered upon his brow as he got closer to his goal. Lighting the torch, he kept it close at hand, before he turned over enough dirt to view the bottom of the grave.
It was empty.
He found himself repeating part of a Bible verse to himself: “For the wages of sin is death…”
