I Use the Term "Missionary" Loosely

He punched Faust in the arm, hard.

"You really are a faggot."

He licked his lips.

"You're so rough, my dear Thaddeus~" He purred.

Once he had finished dressing he said, "now, what's your decision?"

He punched him again, in the face, this time.

"You disgust me."

He rubbed his cheek; that was where Priestly had hit him, too.

"Well?" He prodded again.

"...I have no choice," he said quietly.

He frowned.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"I don't like you, but the answer is yes," he snapped, obviously pained.

Of course, that caused Faust to smile from ear to ear.

"Oh, my dear Thaddeus, I knew you would make the right decision!" He attacked him and planted a kiss on his forehead.

He somehow managed to Falcon-kick Faust in the jaw.

Having expected that, Faust really didn't mind. He rubbed his sore jaw.

"Well, when shall we start?" He asked simply.

"I just need money, as soon as possible."

"Do you want to know how to make money, or do you just want money?" He asked curiously.

He grabbed Faust by the collar.

"I need as much money as possible, as soon as possible--don't even fuck with me. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't fucking desperate."

He smiled wider.

"What sort of trouble did you get yourself into, my dear Thaddeus?"

"None of your fucking business--all I want from you is money."

"So you're desperate." He thought aloud. "How desperate? What are you willing to do for me?"

"Not kill you," he spat.

He chuckled.

"Then I need your help in the lab." He removed the familiar mirror from his hat. "Oh, you have your gun, right?"

He nodded slowly.

"We'll be going a floor deeper this time." He informed Thaddeus before he grabbed him.

They were in a more open lab this time, full of tables which housed many, many corpses.

One in particular was causing quite the ruckus, writhing it's inhuman limbs. It was strapped down, but those straps didn't look as though they would hold it much longer.

"Be a dear and kill it for me~" He purred.

Thaddeus stared on in horror, taking a staggering step back.

"What the hell is this?!"

"A pet." He replied, obviously avoiding the term, "a disgusting failed experiment". "But I'm afraid she needs to be put down now."

Thaddeus's hand shook as he pulled out his gun and aimed.

"What kind of sick, twisted bastard are you?!"

"The kind who has lots of money to give you." He said simply. "Just do your job."

He shot the creature in the head; its writhing stopped, but only several minutes later. He stood there, silent and still shaking.