Jun Yabriel: Hey, y'all! Whew~! The deed is done! I'm just as excited about this update as you are! The plot thickens, but in the sickest of ways. Bonus points to you if you figure out what I'm foreshadowing... Also, I might time-skip further ahead, but it depends on where my Muse and I are in my head.
I don't think this chpt is trigger warning-worthy, but please proceed to the end of this chpt with caution. Merlot's mind drops by a few more shades of gray. (And I will never mean whatever that crackpot E.L. James wrote.) You've been informally warned. Hope you enjoy, anyway!
Mon Coryphée
Book II, Ton Sourire
"Épisode V"
In the several days that tailed Valentine's Day weekend, a sense of normalcy had returned to Wilhelmshaven Academy. The Primary Division students went back to their daily spoon-feedings of reading, writing, and arithmetic; the Junior High Division took some extra time to simmer down, since the hallways had been flooded with hormonal preteens, red-pink-and-white banners, love letters, cookies, and candy. Love was often celebrated openly in the schools. Since Wilhelmshaven operated much like a charter school, such celebrations were highly encouraged.
Especially now that the High School Division had its exclusive weapon: Shadow the Hedgehog.
The Student Council President started the morning meeting off like he always did. Typical discussions regarding clubs, lunch, and council funds bobbed around the table before settling in a relieved hum. Wave's impeccable reports let him know the remainder of their monies, and whether another fundraiser would be in order. So far, not much had left the Treasurer's coin purse—of which Secretary Rouge and Archivist Miles were glad. Even the Vice-President had to admit how ill-prepared they'd be if it came to pass. He nervously chuckled Shadow's way, but the black hedgehog simply adjusted his tie.
Springtime warmth kissed the students' heads as they went about their school day. Girls giggled as they caught sight of Miles in line for lunch: His size didn't let him see the selections, so Sonic had to lift him up. The fox was ten years old, but hadn't grown an inch. He was still adorable in his school uniform, though—which was the only thing he'd worn to school—with his gold bowtie, purple three-piece suit, and white dress shirt. No one challenged his choice of clothing, even though they wanted to ask why he never bothered wearing normal clothes. Good first impressions, maybe? At this point in the school year, everyone wondered why he still cared.
The only person who knew was his "Big Brother," Sonic the Hedgehog. Even then, he never disclosed the reason unless Miles gave him the okay. He was allowed to share it with his teammates, as a special exception.
"It has something to do with home life," Sonic divulged to them. "His parents want his 'stellar prodigy' image to remain spotless, so he wears his uniform every day. He's representing his family, which is relatively tiny compared to, say, Sally's or Elise's. He wants to make his parents happy, and he promises he's not uncomfortable wearing it." Sonic shrugged. "He says it's actually really comfortable, and makes him look cute to the girls." A wink. "Sneaky little thing…he's already nabbed half the student body's ladies with that getup. He's my little brother, alright!"
Knuckles stifled a snicker. "Yeah, that's for sure." He tapped his fist playfully against Sonic's shoulder.
Espio patted his smile in playful accordance. Gentle citrines veered over to see the squad captain. Amazed by what they saw, the chameleon tugged on Sonic's sleeve.
Emeralds followed a steady point: Shadow's lunch deviated slightly from that day's menu. To go with the standard Tuesday meal of Salisbury steak, potatoes au gratin, and green beans, he selected a super-rare strawberry pudding and pink lemonade. Pink food items; residual effects from a lovebug's bite? It was enough for Knuckles to do a double-take from the tray to the Captain's face. Somewhere in his head, the chameleon happily bounced up and down. Sonic was beaming; Shadow was eating again.
It started the week after Valentine's Day. Had that impromptu solo broken down another wall of ice? It was so sudden, too. It made Sonic's eyes brighten.
A light ting!—went the knife and fork in Shadow's hands. His own rubies retreated underneath ebony eyelids. And, as easily and blunt as ever, remarked, "I can feel you all staring at me."
The school day had ended as quickly as it'd begun. Boys arrived in droves—ready to shed their clothes to don their sportswear. Some had track; others had basketball. Oddly enough, for a school based on academics and fine arts, Wilhelmshaven knew that everyone was different. Students who found themselves deficient in the school's main foci could find solace in the sports curriculum. A recently added track field allowed runners to oppose, and fly like, the wind. Some were out there, probably getting ready for regional tournaments.
On the other hand, Knuckles the Echidna was heading for the Gymnasium. Other students, fellow kickboxers, made their way down ahead of him. He was adjusting the gauze around his ankles and insoles when one of the guys flung himself out of the doorway.
"Gah! Excuse us, C-Captain Shade!"
The coral-haired echidna made her way through, not bothered by the student's apology. In a uniform all her own, her hips swayed past them to take her up the stairs. A couple of them ogled her from the back. Only to be jabbed by an elbow. After an expletive, he noticed his friend's face had paled.
Knuckles was glaring them down to the deepest pits of Hell, it seemed.
Subsequently, the boys clamored inside.
Despite their hurry, the door's impact was soft. A pause of an unknown kind filled the air between both echidnas. Contrasting uniforms of loyal colors stood out against the sandy walls. Flourishing patterns scalloped the floor moldings; each step featured an intricate carving of a flower. Knuckles slipped on his sandals when Shade spoke.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know. It just irks me when I see dudes oglin' chicks like that—especially in front of me."
"Why?"
Knuckles got to his feet. He wasn't sure how to answer for a moment. Then, he figured he'd go on and tell the truth. "Well…it's a childhood thing for me. That's all I saw, and I'm working real hard not to see girls in that light anymore." He took up his bag and shrugged it onto his shoulder. It stood out a bit from his exercise ensemble. "Not that you're not attractive or anything like that. Don't get me wrong, you got curves; but you can't help the way you walk, right?"
Shade placed a hand on her hip. Her purple jumpsuit did fit her in all the right places. Silver racer-stripes outlined her waist, hips, and thighs. They were careful to bring out the back zipper, not clash with it. The Spring Semester heralded fickle weather, but she had adjusted just fine since her suit stopped at her ankles. Anchoring them were white boots, which denoted her "captain" status over her drumline's regular black boots. It could've been because she was a girl, but she also donned a military-style bolero—complete with silver piping, buttons, and a captain's pin. It sparkled under the light at the slight movement. "I suppose. On another note, I hear the Chorus Captain is doing better. Is that so?"
"Yeah. He's eating again. And now that spring is here, he's got some crazy events mapped out…Well, sorta."
"Ah? Like what, if I may?"
"He said something about a joint school dance…similar to the Open Houses, in setup. But it's gonna take place in the Cafeteria, I think…Sorry, I don't know any specifics yet. He said something about inviting kids from the Primary and Junior High Divisions, too, now that I think about it…?"
Suddenly, a blush had blossomed in Shade's cheeks.
"I'm sure new stuff will be announced soon." The red echidna stole a glance at the Drum Corps Captain. And smirked. "Maybe you could invite Cream to Prom—?"
"As a junior guest, I'm sure," huffed the lady-echidna before continuing on up the staircase. But, suddenly, she stopped. "Hey. In the meantime…please protect her."
Her blush had dampened, and apprehension creased her frown lines. Knuckles blinked in confusion, but she had dashed off before he could ask why. In a way, her worry had attached itself to him. And it made him wonder: "Protect her? From what?"
The Embroidery Room was in use. Its patchwork "Needlework in Progress" sign hung on the window, this time around. Inside, that famous Janome worked. Clattering away at a hem, the needle jackhammered a jacket's shell together.
Espio worked solo that afternoon. At his feet, however, was Miles Prower.
In his hands was a stuffed effigy. "…I remember the dolls Silver used to make." He played with it a little while inspecting for missing stitches. "They were really good, too. I kinda wanted one, but always missed my chance to ask. Mainly because I forgot or got pulled aside for something." He poked the needle through a bit clumsily. "Now that…he's gone, his classmates miss his work."
There was nothing Espio could say to that. The sewing machine simply kept going.
"I do, too. So I don't think I'll be as good a doll maker as he was…"
Slowly, the clatters halted. Then, the chameleon reached for his backpack. Tails made a few more whips before half-smiling at his creation. After seeing the aspiring designer swipe at his phone, the fox's smile grew. Just before showing it to him. At Espio's blink, he ended his statement with, "But I can still try, right?" and chuckled.
The upperclassman's heart melted at the sight of it: The boy's first attempt at a miniature companion to Silver's rendition of Sonic. It was crude, rough in places, even with a crooked button eye. The second tail didn't match the swatch for the first. A simple X mark established the Tails doll's mouth. Seeing the expert designer make an intrigued look made Tails smile even bigger.
Suddenly, a teardrop.
Tails blinked. "Espio? What's wrong?"
Cascades raced down. A hand had come up to cover the eighteen-year-old's mouth. Gently, Tails took up his cell phone and read the message he'd written:
"I'm so thankful for my friends. All of you are always there to inspire and encourage me, even when you're in the midst of your own problems. Sonic's acquittal, Shadow's returning health, the closeness I've gained with Knuckles…even your little ode to Silver. I'm so happy right now, I could make a whole outfit!"
Tails' eyes glittered at the message's last bit. On impulse, the fox boy dashed over to the fabrics drawer. "What do you wanna use, Espio? I can get it for ya!" With a gingery pep, he bobbed up and down the cupboards, pointing at different colors and textures for the chameleon to use. Musing together lifted the Senior's spirits. That famous Janome continued to work like magic with those expertly learning fingers. Bits of time snuck by, but Espio and Tails were having too much fun to notice.
Halfway into what looked like a cape, Tails wondered about something Espio mentioned in his message. Something about "gaining closeness" with Knuckles. His thought train railed onto what he'd possibly meant by it.
He had a finger to his chin when Espio grabbed his attention again. The outfit was complete: Mini-Tails had become Galaxy Defender Mini-Tails, with his "Milky Way Cape" and "Intergalactic Traveling Boots." The ten-year-old was amused by Espio's big ideas, as always. But this time, it was stronger than ever.
"Espio…! That's it!"
Mini-Tails' mouth had a couple upturned stitches added to its corners.
"That can be our Prom theme!"
Stars bespangled the warming night sky. Winter's chill had yet to officially flee, but Sonic could feel a premature steaminess. The new boys' dormitory, Belsen Andiron, had been refurbished from an old library, after all. Apparently, one of the building's main flaws had been the lack of ventilation aside from the outside windows. Stuffiness permeated the halls, clinging to the vaults and woodwork. The scent of old books somewhat irritated the boys, but it was too much of a hassle to open every single window. It also meant opening every single door; the resident assistant had it all at the top of his Spring Break checklist.
For now, a light breeze was allowed in. It was soft enough not to chill Shadow as he changed. Ill-suited underclothes streamlined his rounder edges. The A-line chemise was too elegant for him; obviously, better suited for an adult woman. Something about it was off. Why did his father go to such unrealistic lengths to provide such sleepwear for his son? He could get away with easier—and a bit more tactfully—if he had a daughter. Shadow never understood why Merlot sent him things like this.
To humiliate him, Shadow had guessed. It was peach with cream lace. Even down to the skivvies. A sore huff fizzled out when he heard the bathroom door open.
"Hey, ready for bed?" Sonic had stepped out, in nothing but a towel and bath sandals. Closing it behind him, he added, "You might wanna wait till the steam clears. I kinda got carried away with the hot wa—oh?"
The thought's caboose derailed at the peaches-and-cream lingerie. Unlined cups gave Shadow's chest no truly defining features. A plunging neckline allowed his chest ruff to flare outward. Nothing flattered his waistline more than that chemise's lace sash, with barely enough room to separate the neckline from it. Not to mention, the matching bikini bottoms.
"What…is…that, Babe?"
"Please don't gawk at me."
"No, I mean…?" Sonic walked over slowly to inspect the other hedgehog's nighties. Strangely enough, there was room for his spines to pass through the gown's back. It wasn't warm-looking in the least, and it was too long for its own good. It did make Shadow look rather feminine and elegant, but nothing added up in Sonic's brain.
Taking a hem into his grasp, Sonic had to ask, "Why does your dad keep sending you this kind of stuff? I don't wanna say he has a weird fetish, but…?"
"It's nothing of the sort," Shadow snapped back softly. "If he really wanted me to wear this, he'd asked me to wear it in his presence. As far as I know, my father is straight." Shadow picked at the lace; too fine to be fake. He growled under his breath. "However, he's attached a note to every set I've received, so far."
From within white packaging, Shadow pulled out an envelope. Sonic watched him, seeing ebony fingers danced along the opening to pull out a note. A slip of normal letter paper. No lines. Oddly, no date, address or signature. It stated: "Keep these."
"And that's all." A mild confusion had marked the black hedgehog's face.
Sonic lowered his eyes. "But…why bother? Is he trying to embarrass you or something? I mean, it's not like you're gonna wear them to class, so—!"
"Of course not, you moron! I'm not that stupid!"
"Okay, okay. Easy there, Babe…Jeez." Hesitant gleams gave dimension to Sonic's chuckle.
The clock's cerulean digits heralded the new time. Time seemed to pass slowly for the Senior Class Valedictorian. Sonic had longed changed into something comfortable, and made his way to the top bunk. Trusty oak separated the boys, as in most of the dorms. Shadow counted the panels' grains instead of sheep. He'd reached 127 before his mind wandered.
Their window was still open. A chill was coming in.
"Sonic?"
Snoozing, the Blue Blur's ear twitched to the call. He rolled over. "…Yeah?" he replied, too drowsily for Shadow's certainty.
Shadow shut his eyes. "Could you…get out of bed for a second?"
Sonic's ears swiveled forward, curiosity piqued. Sleepy eyes blinked, just-as-sleepy gears turning in his head. He sat up a bit. "Huh? Umm…okay?"
"After that…" No, tears, don't fall. "Could you come and…sleep beside me?"
Lady Winter was antsy throughout the night. She darted back and forth between a pair of locations. Wilhelmshaven students slept soundly, for the most part. The girls slept like beauties, while the boys dozed off to snore.
More over into the morning, the City rose with the sun. Storefronts welcomed early-bird customers, while taller businesses took digital headcounts of all their employees. Schoolchildren awaited for buses, others linked hands with parents rushing to their cars. Cream the Rabbit held her doll close to her chest. Spring was coming soon, so she was going to miss her favorite scarf. She looked up at her mother and smiled.
"School bus, school bus, we're waiting on the school bus~! School bus, school bus, Mommy and me~!"
The only vehicle Mrs. Rabbit had belonged to her late husband. As a self-employed stay-at-home mother, she didn't feel the need to drive. It was a prized possession, and she couldn't find it within herself to sell it. It remained in the garage—nestled away from the public eye. It was a beautifully quaint Chevrolet Camaro from an era before computers. Strangely, it sported an unusual reddish-chocolate exterior with smooth caramel shades on the interior. Just as easily it was nicknamed "Snickers" before it even existed. It always shined when her then-boyfriend rode around in it. It was a gift from his grandpappy, he whispered to her one night.
It had become a symbol of their marriage, in a way: He proposed to her next to that car, drove to their honeymoon in that car, and rushed to the delivery room—in that car.
But now, it sat like an old dog counting on its master's return. Vanilla had become too sad to even look at it. It'd gone into the garage one day, and never came out. So, she took little Cream everywhere on foot. The bus was quite a learning experience, too, and she even made a friend on it. Walking did a number on Vanilla, but she'd been walking for most of her life. She wanted to be sure Cream had strong legs, just like hers.
For now, the bus stop was just up the street from their townhouse. Cream bounced up and down, excited for school. Something new was happening that day, apparently, she'd told her mother. "Big kids from the High School are gonna put on a puppet show! Miles will be there, too! Yay!"
"That's wonderful, how nice of them," Vanilla cheered with her.
"Yeah! Miles says that it was his idea, but he had to get…purr-mis-shun…from his boss—after that, he said 'We're greenlit' with a big smile, and now we get to see it!"
"Oh! What a smart and sweet boy Miles is." She knelt down to adjust Cream's scarf. "Now, I want you to have fun today, and enjoy that puppet show. I wanna know what happens in it, so remember as much as you can, okay?"
"Okeydokey!"
"Good girl."
"Yay! Puppet show from big kids, little kids are hap-py! Hap-py, hap-py—are kids like me!"
The song went on, cheerful and light, with the little rabbit bouncing up and down, clapping her hands, and spinning her doll around. Vanilla took a look at her watch. Any minute now, the bus would arrive. Somehow, her memory went back to Merlot's visit and Cream's invitation to the Blackswan Guild's Protégé Program.
A familiar quiver, and the lady-rabbit nibbled on her lip. The pamphlet was far away from her, but the swan's unsettling pair of eyes still loomed over her.
Vermilion Terrace had awakened just before the sun. Its master, Merlot, was up and about already. Pewters glazed as they scanned through the daily newspaper's "Finance" column. Stocks looked healthy so far, so another investment call was in order. He sipped Bergamot tea and nibbled at a buttery croissant, grapes, and a fried egg duo.
At a beckon, his multipurpose aide Clarence crossed the dining hall. Atop a sideward parlor, his master raised his eyes to the smell of tea. Carefully, the terrier refilled his cup.
"Thank you," came a soft parcel of gratitude.
"Of course, Master." Beside him, there was a silver cart. Double-tiered and masterfully crafted, it was a champion of multiple loads. Three more meals were contained in aristocratic platters. Even a post-breakfast dessert was featured.
"Clarence? Be a dear and take those meals upstairs, will you?"
"Yes, sir. Right away—?"
"Also…have Dr. Carrie assist you, when the need arises." A rather terse shake snapped the newspaper out of its fold. Those same hands took a swipe of saliva and tenderly flipped the page.
Clarence picked up on it. But said nothing in rebuttal. He simply bowed and wheeled the cart out of the room. The grand doors shut behind him. Merlot was left alone. He basked in the guarded sunlight for a moment before closing the newspaper. Then, he reached into his blazer's pocket.
Out of it came his Smartphone.
Lady Winter was leaving an unruly chill this year. Snow sprites made mischief with the flowers that wanted to bloom. Trees were eager to unfurl their leaves and make covers before the upcoming summer. Clarence remembered that the fireplace needed a spring cleaning, so he went to check on it. To his surprise, it had been doused, scoured, and restocked with firewood.
Wiping sweat from his brow was that middle-aged man from before.
Clarence smiled in a halfhearted way. "Forgive me, but I'm sure my master appreciates the labor you're putting in during your stay. I hope it allows time to pass at a decent pace for you…Bernard."
Pleased by the old terrier's thoughtful gesture, the auburn-haired hedgehog took the face towel. From the looks of it, the hedgehog seemed better built than he appeared. Physically, he rivaled men half his age—having chopped wood earlier that morning. Fairly long tresses had been pulled in a ponytail. Sweat dampened his shirt, despite missing two buttons. Work boots made the trek a tad easier. His trousers allowed freer movement as he scrubbed away at the hearth. He never dreamt he'd chop wood again; he hadn't done so in decades.
But now, the man—Bernard—had to bury that frustration. Not because the task was grueling, but because the person giving the order was dreadful. He sighed roughly.
"Thank you, Clarence." The hedgehog's voice was deep, almost husky.
"Anything for an old friend."
The terrier's sweet smile put the hedgehog's heart at ease.
"Here. These meals are for myself, you, and your master. I hope these dishes will appeal to your individual palettes. My master seeks variety in his daily meals, hence his sense of 'pickiness', so to speak. Would you help me deliver them, please? That way, we'll all eat together…"
Up on the next floor was one room in particular. It held the newcomer, and the well-established bane to Merlot's ego. Exuding a more modern Victorian vibe, the ensemble consisted of a corset coat, high-waist slacks, and lace-up boots. Pinstripes authenticated a businessman's three-piece. The vest rested on a chair. Morning rays gleamed; it beamed through a pair of reading glasses on the bedside table.
Then—at long last—the first sign of spring: Robins.
He awoke to a mother's tweets. Others around her sang to their neighbors. Dewy eyes veered back and forth in confusion.
"Agh…Where…?"
They looked over the bed. Its sheets looked and felt royal.
"This isn't my bedroom. Did I not go home…?"
One hand went up to the hedgehog's forehead. A migraine had stormed away, but it left remnants in its wake. Pounding stomps slammed against his temples. He forced a groan. Somehow, he could smell eggs and bacon. "Breakfast…? It's morning, then…" he grumbled, at a loss for an explanation. He remembered it being dark as he delved back into his memory. He recalled Merlot slapping him across the face. Serving refreshments. Chastising him. Insulting him.
Framing a mysterious gap, it jumped from all that to awakening in bed.
Merlot's house guest craned his legs over the edge of the bed. Fanciful drapes were hoisted away from each side—as if to suit a princess, at best. He spotted those slacks and boots, and the coat and vest scattered around the room. Closest to him was that bedside table. And, on it, those glasses.
With gentle hands he slid a finger over the frames. They took them up, and he inspected them. "These are Bernard's glasses…? But where did he go?"
Knock, knock, knock…
His ears perked. His eyes focused on the door a few strides away.
"Master? Are you awake?"
"Yes, Bernard, I am."
"Are you well this morning, sir?"
A light surprise brought on a matching smile. "Oh? Is Mr. Clarence with you? Please come in. I seem to have a splitting headache."
Both men did as they were asked. The hedgehog and the terrier brought in the platters. Expert handling made the task a whimsy to watch. Their hands worked like magic. Delicious meals had appeared from under silver covers. Best silverware was set. Glassware brimmed with orange juice; in the younger man's case, apple. A clean napkin went across his lap, to which he clapped lightly.
"Let us eat," Clarence chimed in. "It's good to be amongst friends. I'm so happy to eat with you two, it could bring tears to this humble old man's eyes." A good-natured chortle leapt from his throat.
"It's always been a pleasure, sir," Bernard insisted. "Now, let's eat. So that I may give you your medicine, Master."
A shyness had entered the younger hedgehog's smile. "Don't worry, Bernard. I'll be alright. Just…eat with us." He'd lowered the other man's hand. A mouthful of egg dangled from the fork. "Okay?"
His sweet countenance could not be resisted. It made the middle-aged man think back. After a defeated sigh, he bowed his head. "Of course. Anything for you, sir." He'd set down the fork, but it was swiftly taken up and into his master's mouth. A more-than-mild shock overtook his features briefly before the master blinked at him curiously.
"What is it? I haven't forgotten how to feed myself, you know. Don't look so surprised! You're embarrassing me…!"
Back downstairs, Merlot's breakfast had gone. That post-breakfast dessert, as well. The newspaper had been read through. No highlights or notable updates. Some reviews about a movie premiere, and news on a local high school scheduling efforts to uplift spirits in the City's youth. The ongoing investigation regarding Northeaster Heights had finally concluded. The main suspect was confirmed dead, and the warzone condemned. It was the worst event in recent history. Many young people lost their lives in its midst. In the strangest way, it intrigued Merlot.
A broken soul killed by a broken dream, according to a half-involved eyewitness.
The story was no longer a front-page splash. But the names he'd found throughout it intrigued him even more.
He stole a peek at his Smartphone: One app icon looked serious and straight-laced, bearing a triple-starred shield within a red octagon. He tapped it softly. It read:
Initializing…
Soon enough, an indicator appeared in the lower-right corner of the touchscreen. It flashed:
Camera 8
[Chamomile]
The indoor microphone picked up sound. Voices. Movement. The men upstairs talked, chatting amongst themselves. They even smiled at one another. Clarence joked about things that happened in the past, where his guests could share and indulge with him. In truth, Clarence had grown lonely over the time he'd spent with Merlot. The butler was 71 years old, technically retired, and a fellow widower. Although, he'd lost two wives to Merlot's one. The Guild CEO had a soft spot for spouses separated by death.
In watching them commune, Merlot corrected himself. It wasn't as soft as he'd made it out to be. He was fascinated by the sensation described as "losing half a soul." It was a captivating way to give life to such a feeling. A deep-seated dread. A heartrending loss. Nothing short of one's own miserable death. Merlot was drawn to such stories. Bizarrely enthralled by them. Like page-turning thrillers, he wanted to know how the widow lived, day by day, since such an event. How does one survive a loss of that magnitude? Where is the light at the end of the tunnel? How did it go out? Or how did it not? Survival stories—in an emotional sense. It was a source of excitement for Merlot.
Almost to the point of romanticism. Even worse, a heightening grade of paraphilia.
That young man's smile aggravated Merlot. His countenance alone was a personal bane.
Enough to shatter a teacup.
"You dare show me grace, indifference, even joy…though I've given you nothing but grief? Little fool." Merlot snarled. Then, transformed into a wicked grin. "If you show me mercy, then I'll give you Hell."
Names in the concluded investigated were highlighted in sharp orange. One of them was "Shadow the Hedgehog."
Blackening charcoals swirled as a maniacal bog. "The worst Hell, its Ninth Circle, is where I will send you. This time, you will not escape. I'll make you cower before the Devil himself, destroy you from the inside out, and watch you bleed from every orifice in your body…to the point where not even your precious 'God' will come and save you."
"Épisode V" Set…
