Right when he was about to close the doors and call it a day, Father Maxi found Butters sat on a bench near the altar, a place he could only visit once the church was closed to the public.

"Butters?"

Butters turned his head to the priest. "Oh, hi, Father..."

"What are you doing here?"

"Just...thinking..."

Maxi sat by his side. While his eyes were on the young man, Butters' were on the big cross in front of him.

"I've heard that Scott Malkinson was discovered to be Captain Diabetes...He was a childhood friend of yours, right?"

"Yes...Yes, you can say that..."

Butters shook his head gently.

"He was saving people...They caught him...while he was doing good. Why did they do this to him? Why did they arrest him? It's not fair."

"He's still a criminal, remember? I am sure not everyone is happy about him being captured in such a way, after what he did—but nobody wants to be pointed out for defending a delinquent. It is much better to keep your mouth quiet and let things be."

Butters glanced at the cross again and thought that, had he been Jesus, he wouldn't have liked having a reminder of the time when he was suffered a barbaric death, his body contorted and torn, with soldiers making him drink vinegar and wear a crown of thorns, looking at the sky like a scared child wanting his Father to end the suffering...

"It's a bit like..." He muttered under his breath.

"Hm?"

"...I never understood all of these stories Sister Anne told us in Sunday school. The more I think about it, the less I understand it. Why did Jesus, God's son, someone who performed exorcises, cured people, even brought them back from the dead, end up that way? Why did the people prefer to pardon Barrabas, who was violent, and not him, who never hurt anyone in his life?...Is that what people have always been like? Do they have to find every little spot of light and destroy it?"

"Some people just can't stand the light." Maxi replied. "It hurt their eyes. It reminds them that they are still in the shadows. So, yes, they prefer to extinguish it. Jesus, you see, came to enlighten a society that lived in the dark. Not only did he go around telling everyone he was the son of God Himself. He crossed all the lines. He defied everything people in his time believed in, because they forgot that their traditions—the sacrifices, the circumcision, not working on Sabbath—, none of that had any sense if they kept sinning, if they put their traditions before their neighbors' needs. He cured sick people on Sabbath, mingled with thieves, prostitutes and adulterers and preferred to forgive them instead of stoning them to death. Jesus' mission on Earth was to teach the world the good way, help them get to know God, make peace with Him..."

"...He came to save everyone and got killed for it."

"He atoned for the sins of all humanity, past, present and future, shed his own blood. That is why we have the cross always present. So we remember his sacrifice and inspire ourselves to be like him."

"It's so difficult, Father...Not only forgiving those who abuse and kill you, also dying for them."

"It is. That is why we Catholics are just little lambs surrounded by lions. We came to this world to suffer—but we do it gladly."

"Haven't you ever wanted them to suffer? Be honest, Father. You are no strange to cancellation. They're always calling you a child molester. I hear them laugh at you, make jokes at mass...It makes my blood boil. It makes me...want to burst into the room and give them a big shock...Haven't you ever felt that way?"

Maxi nodded, sighing.

"I am paying the sins of others...And my own sin, knowing what was going on and not doing enough to prevent so much suffering...But I don't care what others say because I know what I've done, God knows what I have done and what's in my heart, and that's enough for me. A clear conscience, Butters, is a treasure. It is much more valuable than being the most praised, celebrated person on the planet."

Butters looked away. "I don't have a clear conscience...What I've done, I can't repair it..."

"Says who?"

"I can't bring my parents back. And all the people I've hurt...They could never forgive me...Now I realize...I hated this town with passion, because I thought there was nothing good in it. Because everything reminded me of the times people had been mean to me, people I trusted—people who let me down when I needed them. I thought it was better to destroy it till there was nothing left of it...And now...My old fellas...Look at them. They are using their gifts to try to protect it. Even after all things they are saying about them, the way they are being treated, they still try to save it...They are willing to sacrifice themselves for the town that hates them...I...don't know if they are really stupid or if I am just rotten..."

Maxi placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You still love them, don't you?"

Butters didn't reply immediately.

"There's good people in South Park dying for." Kenny said that night, when he broke his arms. He had grown suffering the despise of everyone because he was the poor guy, the quiet guy...They made him do humiliating things to earn some bucks, knowing that his family was very short on money...If there was someone who always got hurt, that was him...And he still didn't hesitate to fight for everyone...

"...The good memories always come back, to say...it wasn't all bad..." Butters sighed.

"You have never been evil. Life...hasn't been kind to you..." Maxi said. "What is very difficult is to remain virtuous in times of great pain and desperation. But the Lord is good and does what the hordes can't: give people all chances they need. If someone wants to change, He will still greet them with open arms, no matter how big their sin..."

They remained silent for some time.

"Feel better now?" Maxi smiled.

"...Yes." Butters drew a kind smile.

"I'm glad. This place really has power over one's mood, doesn't it? Come. Let's go home. I don't know you, but I'm so hungry. I think I need a beer."

Before standing up and following the priest, Butters turned to the cross once more.

What a shame that one had to pay for everyone's sins...

When Ike woke up, the first thing he saw was his mother's corpulent body.

"...Mom..." He muttered weakly.

Sheila caressed his hair carefully, as if he was made of glass.

"It's okay, baby...It's all right...I'm here...Nothing's going to hurt you anymore..." She said with the softest voice, that voice she used to use for him when he was a tiny, poor Canadian orphan with no family, no one in the world to take care of him, and she rocked him in her arms to make him feel safe and wanted.

"Mom..." Ike whined again.

"I will find whoever did this to you and give them a taste of their own medicine...You don't have to worry...They're not going to hurt you anymore..." Sheila repeated, kissing his head. She wanted to stay by him, but he was out of danger, Gerald and Kyle could take care of the situation.

"No, Mom..." Ike tried to stand up, his father stopped him.

Of course, he was intimidated, or maybe it was all the painkillers in his body making him say nonsense. He tried to reach for her as she left the room, determined to keep her promise. He wouldn't talk, but Malkinson would.

The news that Captain Diabetes had been caught spread like wildfire. The news talked about nothing but this and it was the main topic in every bar, in every corner, on Twitter. His identity was secret no more—the PC children made sure of it. His real name was Scott Malkinson, and nothing in him made anyone around him suspect he was something special: twenty-three, his medical history mentioned nothing about him swelling up and acquiring super strength when having a sugar rush, an electrician who still lived with his parents, never had a girlfriend. A guy so normal, even mediocre, it seemed impossible that he could be Captain Diabetes. It was genius!

For days, the PC siblings aired all of his dirty laundry. Of course he was a criminal!: he was part of the sexist Weiners Out movement and also the conspiracy group Lil'Qties when he was ten. And know what? His name was all a lie: he wasn't a real captain! He had never been to the military or even on a ship! Every tiny little thing they could say about him was said, even thing that were exaggerated or were not entirely true. They made sure Scott's life was completely ruined and he would never be able to go out in public anymore.

Mrs. Malkinson ran to the police station as soon as he heard the news, to cry and demand to see him. It had to be a mistake, she said. Scott was a good boy, he wouldn't even hurt a fly, she didn't know what happened to his body, but she and her husband would do anything to cure him, leave South Park forever, lock him away if they wanted, but they had to give her son back! The anguish made her faint a few times.

But that didn't move Sheila. She had been close to losing her youngest son because of the Freedom Pals. She just didn't have any compassion left for those people.

They had had to order a special set of chains to keep Scott under control, of the hardest material one could find. In any case, it seemed like he was running out of steam. He barely moved now, only panted. His face had lost its red color and it seemed that if he hadn't been tied to that chair, he would have dropped on the floor. No one even had the decency of giving him clothes to put on or even just a blanket to cover his nakedness with.

"You are Scott, right?"

He even seemed to have difficulty looking at Sheila when she addressed him. Mayor McDaniels stayed in a corner, just watching in silence with her arms crossed.

"...I remember you. You used to be in Kyle's class at school. You also got shocked in the fair accident some years ago..."

He was several heads taller than her, yet he lacked the strength and fury in her eyes, in her whole demeanor.

"That makes it even more painful, and says a lot about you. Willing to hurt an old friend's family..."

"Mrs. Broflovski..." The giant shuddered.

It was in her hands, ready to inject. But she didn't move.

"It is really disappointing, and I really don't want to know what your poor mother is going through right now. But you know there is a way to get out of this."

"I need my insulin, now..."

Sheila didn't listen. "If you tell me where Human Kite is, I will tell them to let you free."

"Mrs. Broflovski, please, I need my insulin..."

"First, tell me where Human Kite is." Sheila approached, but not to give him his medicine, but to look at him into his eyes.

"Please, if I don't take it now, I'm going to die..." Scott complained, blinking because he felt the room was spinning and he was falling...

"Mrs. Broflovski..." Mayor McDaniels called her, but she ignored her.

"Where-is-Human-Kite?" Sheila's volume increased with each word she uttered.

Scott let out a moan, and the Mayor saw he was really going into ketoacidosis.

"For the love of God, Mrs. Broflovski, give him his insulin!" She shouted.

She started running towards them because she really doubted Sheila would obey, but she did it. She practically stabbed Scott with the syringe, making him let out a weak groan. Then his body started changing in front of the two women, deflating, until he looked like any other guy, with no more muscles or testosterone than the average, pale and tired. Scott let out a sigh and leaned forward, seemingly unconscious.

"Come." The Mayor said to Sheila, telling her to follow her outside.

Sheila gave Scott a last glance filled with despise before following, leaving an armed policeman in charge of Scott.

"You almost killed that boy!" Mayor McDaniels said.

"He's not a boy, he's a monster. And I remind you that his team has killed and injured people." Sheila said, remorseless.

"Monster or not, he still has rights, we have to go by the law. I remind you that torture is not legal."

"It is easy for you to say that, Mrs. Mayor. You don't have children to worry about."

"True, I cannot understand your pain, but I can't let any of the vigilantes die on my watch, understood? We have to take them to court. Do things right. Show them we are not like them."

Sheila didn't reply. She didn't seem convinced.

"I don't even know what I can accuse this one of. Risking his own integrity to save eight workers from a scaffolding collapse? And the others..."

"What they did my son, they will probably do to this one. Or maybe they will come to rescue him. Either way, they will come here..." Sheila said. "I will have my chance to have my son's assaulter face to face...I am going to hold a town meeting. We have to get ready."

Mayor McDaniels didn't have the time to stop her, or even complain. She was doing her job! But who could argue with someone like Sheila Broflovski?

She glanced at the room where Scott was still trying to remain conscious. She, like the great majority of people in South Park, used to admire the Freedom Pals. Life was better, safer with them around. All those scandals broke her heart. Part of her didn't want to believe them, looked for proof that they were not true—and got to find some inconsistencies that made her doubt. But the citizens had made up their minds, their voices were a clamor she couldn't ignore. It was difficult, but she had to obey those who gave her the office...