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The first few months are the hardest. You are here to intimidate, coerce, and kill if necessary. At first, you try to help the victims, but not for them.  You do it so you don’t have to become the thing that Seth-Sagan has made. And when they fail to pay, and they all do, something dark crawls out from you and has to take over. 

You can’t just beat them. You can’t just maim them. Whatever punishment you deal out can’t interfere in their ability to earn. If you cut the fingers off a butcher, he can’t cut meat. Just one finger maybe.

Three months in and you find yourself standing before a mirror in your new home, blood on your face and hands. Stains in the carpet of the home that Seth-Sagan now provides for you. A home that no cops will come to.  You ran here because of what people thought you were, of what they thought you would do. 

Every day it escalates, every day it gets worse.  Sooner or later, you will have to kill, and you are not sure that you can do it.  You are at the precipice of your existence. If you run you’ll be running for life, however long that is. If you continue, you will lose whatever soul you had. You don’t know if you have the will to do what must be done to keep your freedom.


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