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So I roll up, all ominous-like. “You either die a hero…” or you pay up, right? This chick—let’s call her Candy—leans in, smirkin’. “Hey, big guy, got credits?” I’m like, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.” She laughs—nervy broad! I respect that. We haggle—20 creds, 30 creds—damn, inflation’s a bitch. She’s got this scar, right across her cheek. “Joker did it,” she says. I’m thinkin’, “Bitch, please, I’d choke him first.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it’s my story!

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So, I finally make it to St. Thomas’ Church, and guess what? The roof’s leaking! Like, seriously? I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” I’m up there with buckets, trying to catch the drips. It’s like a scene from a bad comedy. I’m soaked, and the congregation is looking at me like I’m some sort of circus act.

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