I Use the Term "Missionary" Loosely

Priestly just stared for a few moments, his eyes wide. Then he tackled Faust to the ground.

"I told you to stay away from him!" he spat, grabbing him by the shirt collar. "Damning me isn't enough for you--you have to drag him into it, to?! I told you I'd kill you!"

Faust cackled madly, enjoying any sort of contact with Priestly.

Meanwhile, Cyprus picked up the hand he needed and attempted to sneak back inside.

"Cyrprus, wait!" he exclaimed, looking at him though he still restrained Faust. "I can explain...what did this guy say to you?!"

Faust just grinned, and poor Cyprus groaned. He quickly shoved the hand into the pocket on his sweatshirt, where he also shoved his own hands so that it seemed somewhat less suspicious.

"Uhm...N-nothing." He lied quickly.

Stupid Priestly, stop making this so hard!

"...He didn't tell you?" he asked, momentarily relieved; then he realized there was still something missing from this picture. "...Then why were you talking to him?"

He paled considerably. What lie could he make up? He fidgeted.

"...Uhm..."

He stood up, letting Faust go.

"...Cyprus...do you know this man?"

"...Do you?" He asked, realizing that Priestly had acted suspiciously.

He scratched his head.

"...Of course. Isn't that why he's here?"

He stared at Priestly.

"...You know him? How?" He was afraid of the answer, however.

"...You answer first," he said quietly.

He shook his head, staring at his feet.

"...No."

"...Why won't you answer me, Cyprus?" he asked, his face growing cold as realization settled over him. "...Don't tell me you're his apprentice now."

Mars almost denied that accusation, until he realized that it would save him a lot of trouble if he agreed.

"...I'm sorry, Priestly." He said, faking guilt. Well, he did feel guilty, so it was really not all that fake.

"...So...you know everything he's done," he said, hurt welling up inside of him. "You and him were in this together...from the beginning."

He opened his mouth to say something, then the words sank in.

"...In what together?" He asked slowly.

He glared.

"Don't pretend you don't know--you know, suddenly, I think I understand why you didn't want me anymore." He tossed off his shirt, chuckling. "It's all of this, isn't it? The flesh of a dead man, that you helped create--suddenly, I'm not holy enough for you!"

He fell to his knees, still laughing sadly.

"...Why? Why did you let him do this to me--why did you help him--if you were just going to leave me?!"

Cyprus just stared, almost unable to comprehend what he was seeing and hearing.

"...you're dead." He said quietly. "Faust brought you back, too..."

He finally removed his hands from his pockets. When he did, he used the only attached hand to roll up the sleeve of his opposite arm, which was currently hand-less.

"Priestly..." He mumbled, holding out the stump and showing off the discoloration of the skin. "This is why I didn't want to be with you. I'm not whole, anymore."

Priestly just stared, speechless. Then he calmly stood up, dusted himself off, and ran at Faust, punching him full-force in the mouth.

Faust, who had been busy with other things off in the corner, hadn't seen that coming. Therefore, he had gotten hit pretty hard, which sent him onto his back.

"Wh-what was that for?" He exclaimed.

"You touched Mars," he said calmly, punching him again. "Rosaries, holy water...they all just burn my hands now. So I'll have to hurt you with less holy methods..." He kicked him in the gut mercilessly.

Faust curled into a ball, taking the beating like a sissy.

"Priestly, stop it!" Cyprus barked angrily. "If you kill him, I'll die!"

He stopped mid-punch, reluctantly taking a step away from Faust.

"...But...he did this to both of us..."

Faust rolled over, spitting out blood. Even with all the knowledge in the world, he couldn't stop himself from getting mercilessly beaten.

Mars grew silent and grabbed the spare hand from out of his pocket. He walked over to Faust and shoved it into his hands.

"Stitch it on." He ordered.

Reluctantly, Faust did his best, even though his hands were shaking terribly.

Priestly watched them with a calm expression, though hatred burned in his eyes.

"...I'm not going to call you Cyprus, you know."