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I did confess to father what I’d been up to. I dwelt upon sordid details in an attempt at whitewashing my flexible conscience. I was having a busy time, truth be told: only last week I had been in charge of three executions –two assignments and an abduction that unfortunately got out of hand–. Worst of all was getting rid of the bodies. I would not seem to get used to that glassy and empty look of the dead.
Good thing is I know I can count on his silence. At the end of the day, our priest knows best all the dark corners of my sinner’s soul. He’s granted me absolution in return of reciting a hundred Hail Marys, fifty Creeds and some twenty Pater Nosters. Small print though included an additional errand: I should help some wayward parishioner come to terms with the…
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