Post by gzavadak on Jul 3, 2013 22:57:33 GMT -5
What the good Reverend had feared might happen at Slamathon IV did indeed come to pass. Despite all of the victories against Team Lethality over his ten match winning streak, everything must come to an end. And so it was when Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson hoisted the PCW Platinum Championship above his head after dethroning the man that had committed so much of his time to making Reaper’s life his own personal hell in “The Evangelist” Jerry Matthews.
By defeating Matthews, Reaper had ended what was, perhaps, the most storied reign in the history of any championship in PCW’s history. A reign that lasted just short of two hundred days, and a record seven defenses. However, while all of this was a certainty, the Southern Baptist couldn’t help but be disturbed at the message his inevitable downfall ultimately meant. After all, it had even been foretold him in a chilling series of images that served to immensely drain him, both physically and mentally. And the silence still persisted. It had been quite a time since Reverend Matthews had heard from the big guy upstairs.
Little did he know that he was about to get the answer he so craved. The question was how he would respond to its tidings.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene opens in the pastoral offices of Birmingham First Baptist Church. The office is dark, except for a single white spotlight illuminating the pastor, as he sits behind his desk. He is wearing his facial mask, though the right portion seems to be marked by a series of deep scratches. Whether the wounds were self-inflicted was anybody’s guess.
He is fumbling around in his desk drawer, and the shuffling noises end when he finds what he is looking for. After a brief pause, an audible click is heard. And, when Matthews bring his right hand up, it can be seen that he is holding a Beretta 9mm pistol, with the hammer locking a bullet in the chamber. He is clearly not in a great state of mind, and it is reflected in a prayer that he is heard muttering over his series of short, shallow and hurried breaths.
Matthews: Heavenly Father, while you still hold me, one of your most trusted servants, in a state of spiritual limbo over my latest inquisition into your plan for me, I’m afraid that I cannot wait any longer. I can’t understand why you have forsaken me in such a manner, and while what I’m about to do may forever ensure that I will never be in your favor, it’s something that I must do. For, Lord, without you, I am nothing more than an empty vessel, and one without a rudder at that. So, it is with this that I bid you farewell. In your name I pray, amen.
Matthews brings the Beretta to a position under his chin, his right hand firmly gripping the trigger. As he is about to squeeze, the office begins to shake violently. Matthews loses his concentration and loses his grip on the pistol, dropping it on the desk. The room continues to shake, and glass breaks as pictures fall off of the wall, and books begin to fall free of their shelves. Matthews grips his desk in fear, in addition to not wanting to lose his footing.
All of a sudden, without explanation, the tremors cease. The outline of the office door jamb begins to brighten, leaving the outline of a bright, white light visible throughout the office before the door is thrust open. A violent breeze then sweeps through the office, and in walks a figure dressed entirely in white, his shoulder length blonde hair blowing.. The figure stands about seven feet tall, and bears a look of visible disgust at the good Reverend. He walks into the office and towers over Matthews, who is still clinging to the desk. The figure clicks his tongue three times and shakes a finger mockingly at God’s Broadsword.
White Figure: My good Reverend, what in His good name do you think you’re doing?
Matthews takes a second to collect himself, and he adjusts his mask and sits back in his seat. Matthews then begins to laugh to himself before answering.
Jerry Matthews: Funny you decide to show up now. Only on the very occasion before I decide to end it all and forfeit my eternal place at his table. So many prayers unanswered, you should be able to understand my plight.
The figure smashes his fist on the desk, which promptly breaks in two, and Matthews’ eyes widen in shock.
Figure: How dare you question His decisions, preacher!!! You of all people have no excuse for such insolence!! The minute you fall upon even the slightest misfortune, you think his love for you is gone? What do you take the Father for, an Indian giver? His love is unconditional and never expires. It’s not some carton of spoiled milk you forget about in the refrigerator.
Matthews rises at the accusatory tone, and he comes face to face with the figure, who still towers over him, he only comes up to his chin.
Jerry Matthews: How dare you take such a tone with me!! After all of the good works I’ve performed, all of the souls I’ve saved. And all of the years of dedication and sacrifice. Forgive me if I feel a little slighted! Is it so much to ask for an explanation for the circumstances behind Slamathon IV?! I think I’m at least owed that.
The figure continues to stare down at the pastor. He then begins to shake his head.
Figure: A funny lot he is. Man. Always thinking that he is owed something. Have you even taken the time to consider some of the more plausible explanations?
Matthews begins to turn red, and he continues to lambaste the figure.
Jerry Matthews: What kind of mindless simpleton do you take me for?!?!
The figure takes a small step back to create some breathing room.
Figure: Have you considered the possibility that the Platinum Championship had become more of a hindrance than a help to your worldly ministry and the inner truths of its messages?
Matthews’ frantic breathing begins to slow, and he starts to calm down.
Jerry Matthews: Go on, I’m listening.
Figure: How much more did you really have to prove? Facing the same heathens week after week. Whether it was T.J. Parks, Rachel Robinson, Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson, or even Danielle Lopez, there is only so much meaning you can draw in making continuous examples of Team Lethality. You have fought on countless occasions with the exact same faces, and each time, through His good graces, you triumphed on every single occasion. You allowed yourself to be consumed with a personal quest for vengeance against Reaper. You brought this upon yourself, Jerry. The…oh what’s the term, white noise, I believe, make sense now, Reverend?
Matthews is silent this time. His lips are pursed, perhaps an indication of the extent to which he is contemplating the explanation. About fifteen seconds pass, and he brings his hands up to his forehead, and he begins to shake his head back and forth in shame. Clearly, the Redemption, Alabama native has had a rather unpleasant epiphany.
Jerry Matthews: How could I have become so blind, servant? I, like so many of the ones that I have put down, allowed myself to become hypnotized by the subtle charms of gold. To allow my motivations to become purely personal, completely hypnotized by greed. This mission stretches far beyond the reaches of Team Lethality. Please forgive my insolence, I am not worthy of his love.
Matthews gets down on his knees and bows his head in a plea for forgiveness. The figure looks over the sight of the pastor acknowledging his sins, as if gauging whether he is worthy of the forgiveness he seeks.
Figure: Rise, flawed one. I sense that your change of views is genuine. And be sure to say a prayer of thanks, because this is the only reason why you will not fall out of his favor.
Matthews rises and casts all of his attention at the mysterious figure’s next words.
Figure: Consider this another opportunity. A mulligan, if you will. Among the many who have served the Lord throughout existence, you are hardly the first to question his judgment. It comes with the territory. But, don’t get even the slightest idea of making a continuous habit out of it. You have far more to accomplish, priest. And it won’t be getting any easier. Just pray that you don’t see me again anytime soon. I assure you it will not be on joyous terms.
Jerry Matthews: Thank you, servant. I am not worthy. And, despite the inherent flaws that come with my humanity, rest assured, I will do everything in my power to avoid another chance meeting. I’m sure that you have far more important matters to attend to than a questioning man of the cloth.
Figure: Indeed, now awaken, and heed this lesson well.
The scene rapidly transitions to Matthews jolting awake at his desk. He quickly bows his head to utter a brief prayer of thanksgiving, and then he grabs his Bible and rushes out of the office as the scene fades to black.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene opens to the locker room of “The Evangelist” himself, the Reverend Jerry Matthews. In circumstances departing from the usual, Matthews is not seated on the bench in front of his locker stall, but instead stands behind a simple pulpit. The front of the pulpit bears a cross, but one that has some very distinctive details. The cross consists of two fiery burning swords, the vertical sword coming down rather graphically through the head of a large serpent. He is wearing his white cotton suit, and looks eager to address the members of his faithful flock.
Jerry Matthews: Brothers and sisters, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on my loss to Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson at Slamathon IV two weeks ago. Many of you no doubt remember that I had expressed doubts in the Father’s confidence in me. And to top it all off, my subconscious was prepared to forever place me in the ranks of the forever unclean, to be no better than all of the world’s murderers and rapists. But, thankfully, with a little….let us call it divine intervention, I have come to realize the error of my ways.
Matthews pauses for a short span, as if he is looking for the right words.
Jerry Matthews: I have come to realize how truly slippery of a slope the great red temptor Satan has laid in front of all of us. How short of a road it is to nearly purge yourself from the ranks of the saved. To let one’s own personal quests for vengeance, petty vendettas, and dreams of individual glory cloud the holy work I’ve been tasked to perform. The very redemption of man himself. Friends, please forgive me for my time of weakness, for failing you on such a wide spectrum, and for possessing the insolence to question the Lord’s plans for me, and for the entirety of humanity. Lord, in your name, I ask to give the members of my flock the patience and the inner strength to stomach the fact that, though at times I tend to forget, I am a human myself. In your name, I pray.
Matthews bows his head for a moment of silence. He raises his head and has a devilish look in his eye.
Jerry Matthews: I’ve also come to realize what my ministry is really about.
Matthews pulls out his blue leather-bound Bible, and begins to shake it with force.
Jerry Matthews: It’s about this. The very Word of the Lord itself. About the teachings it holds. Every single, well-thought out word. Filled with so much meaning and literal truth.
Matthews throws the Bible down on the pulpit.
Jerry Matthews: And to combat ALL of those who routinely choose to defile it. Those who say the Lord’s name in a way that’s filled with treacherous venom, those who will bend whatever rule they can to most utterly defy him. That is why I am here. That’s why I do what I do. Why I dole out punishment in His name with so much regularity. And why I take so much joy in it.
An evil smile begins to cross his lips.
Jerry Matthews: That the realm of sinners extends far beyond Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson and the rest of his Team Lethality associates. This coming Saturday night on Rapture, I plan on putting on a showcase. The likes of which will make everyone remember that I am a 6’6, 275 pound, fire-breathing, heathen bashing servant of God. An unfortunate truth that will be reserved for that gun-toting loon Lekkter tha Lunatik. And, yes, friends, he does indeed spell his name with a ‘K.’
Matthews laughs defiantly into the camera.
Jerry Matthews: For you see, brothers and sisters, Lekkter tha Lunatik has drawn a fate that will most definitely prove to be most unfortunate. He is facing a holy weapon of mass destruction, one that finally sees through all the fog that has clouded its vision for the past few months. The same weapon that buried a PCW Hall of Famer alive seven months ago. The same weapon that took every record the PCW Platinum Championship had and shattered them all to the point where such a height may never be reached again. A weapon that has fiercely rededicated itself to its true mission: the eradication of all earthly sin.
"Lekkter, don’t think I haven’t paid attention to you with my peripherals while you’ve been here in PCW. Don’t think that I’m not fully aware that you came within a matter of inches of joining the hallowed club of Scars of the Wrestling Cup winners. That I don’t know that you took Brian Stryker to his very limits when you met. There is no doubt that you know your way around a ring, you exhibit a competence that few and far between can match. But, let me assure you, this will not be your time to shine. Your time to get your fifteen seconds of fame by scoring a victory over a sure-fire first ballot future PCW Hall of Famer."
"With the strength of God imbued in me, I became the greatest champion that this promotion has ever seen. Unlike Danielle Lopez, I didn’t need a humongous layoff to have a sixteen month reign. I did it continuously, no breaks. But, now, my eyes are open. Without the burdensome Platinum Championsip no longer holding me back, I can finally get back to blazing a fiery path of destruction that will resemble a crude version of the impending Armageddon. My work has implications that extend far beyond me, or you, or any other signed performer with PCW."
"Because, Lekkter, you see, the Lord is not happy. He is not happy at you for allowing yourself to degrade to such a low position. As someone who fails to reap any of the number of benefits that come with therapy. And, no doubt, you blame the Lord for all of the mistakes you’ve made. For allowing yourself to become no better than a common piece of ordinary street trash. For giving you the gall to impersonate a holy agent by getting behind the pulpit and attempting to incite a riot. Don’t think he hasn’t seen every move you’ve made."
"I’m glad you took the time to research each of the ten plagues that consumed Egypt during the time of His chosen people’s enslavement. Because now, you’ve familiarized yourself with the idea of what kind of horrors the Lord and I have envisioned for you on Saturday night. I won’t say much, mainly because they are far too graphic to be shared over these airwaves. But, I will let you in on the fact that they are far worse than any number of frogs, locusts, boils or sores you might have in mind. You will suffer, and it will be me standing over your broken and beaten body, all with the faint hope that you will realize the error of your ways so that you may join the ranks of the saved. Fat chance of that, I suppose."
"Say your prayers, Lekkter, for on Saturday night, you will be baptized not with the blood of the Lamb, but with your own. The Word of the Lord, Thanks Be to God."
Matthews angrily picks up his Bible, and makes the sign of the cross with his left arm. He then bows his head for a moment of prayer as the scene fades to black.
By defeating Matthews, Reaper had ended what was, perhaps, the most storied reign in the history of any championship in PCW’s history. A reign that lasted just short of two hundred days, and a record seven defenses. However, while all of this was a certainty, the Southern Baptist couldn’t help but be disturbed at the message his inevitable downfall ultimately meant. After all, it had even been foretold him in a chilling series of images that served to immensely drain him, both physically and mentally. And the silence still persisted. It had been quite a time since Reverend Matthews had heard from the big guy upstairs.
Little did he know that he was about to get the answer he so craved. The question was how he would respond to its tidings.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene opens in the pastoral offices of Birmingham First Baptist Church. The office is dark, except for a single white spotlight illuminating the pastor, as he sits behind his desk. He is wearing his facial mask, though the right portion seems to be marked by a series of deep scratches. Whether the wounds were self-inflicted was anybody’s guess.
He is fumbling around in his desk drawer, and the shuffling noises end when he finds what he is looking for. After a brief pause, an audible click is heard. And, when Matthews bring his right hand up, it can be seen that he is holding a Beretta 9mm pistol, with the hammer locking a bullet in the chamber. He is clearly not in a great state of mind, and it is reflected in a prayer that he is heard muttering over his series of short, shallow and hurried breaths.
Matthews: Heavenly Father, while you still hold me, one of your most trusted servants, in a state of spiritual limbo over my latest inquisition into your plan for me, I’m afraid that I cannot wait any longer. I can’t understand why you have forsaken me in such a manner, and while what I’m about to do may forever ensure that I will never be in your favor, it’s something that I must do. For, Lord, without you, I am nothing more than an empty vessel, and one without a rudder at that. So, it is with this that I bid you farewell. In your name I pray, amen.
Matthews brings the Beretta to a position under his chin, his right hand firmly gripping the trigger. As he is about to squeeze, the office begins to shake violently. Matthews loses his concentration and loses his grip on the pistol, dropping it on the desk. The room continues to shake, and glass breaks as pictures fall off of the wall, and books begin to fall free of their shelves. Matthews grips his desk in fear, in addition to not wanting to lose his footing.
All of a sudden, without explanation, the tremors cease. The outline of the office door jamb begins to brighten, leaving the outline of a bright, white light visible throughout the office before the door is thrust open. A violent breeze then sweeps through the office, and in walks a figure dressed entirely in white, his shoulder length blonde hair blowing.. The figure stands about seven feet tall, and bears a look of visible disgust at the good Reverend. He walks into the office and towers over Matthews, who is still clinging to the desk. The figure clicks his tongue three times and shakes a finger mockingly at God’s Broadsword.
White Figure: My good Reverend, what in His good name do you think you’re doing?
Matthews takes a second to collect himself, and he adjusts his mask and sits back in his seat. Matthews then begins to laugh to himself before answering.
Jerry Matthews: Funny you decide to show up now. Only on the very occasion before I decide to end it all and forfeit my eternal place at his table. So many prayers unanswered, you should be able to understand my plight.
The figure smashes his fist on the desk, which promptly breaks in two, and Matthews’ eyes widen in shock.
Figure: How dare you question His decisions, preacher!!! You of all people have no excuse for such insolence!! The minute you fall upon even the slightest misfortune, you think his love for you is gone? What do you take the Father for, an Indian giver? His love is unconditional and never expires. It’s not some carton of spoiled milk you forget about in the refrigerator.
Matthews rises at the accusatory tone, and he comes face to face with the figure, who still towers over him, he only comes up to his chin.
Jerry Matthews: How dare you take such a tone with me!! After all of the good works I’ve performed, all of the souls I’ve saved. And all of the years of dedication and sacrifice. Forgive me if I feel a little slighted! Is it so much to ask for an explanation for the circumstances behind Slamathon IV?! I think I’m at least owed that.
The figure continues to stare down at the pastor. He then begins to shake his head.
Figure: A funny lot he is. Man. Always thinking that he is owed something. Have you even taken the time to consider some of the more plausible explanations?
Matthews begins to turn red, and he continues to lambaste the figure.
Jerry Matthews: What kind of mindless simpleton do you take me for?!?!
The figure takes a small step back to create some breathing room.
Figure: Have you considered the possibility that the Platinum Championship had become more of a hindrance than a help to your worldly ministry and the inner truths of its messages?
Matthews’ frantic breathing begins to slow, and he starts to calm down.
Jerry Matthews: Go on, I’m listening.
Figure: How much more did you really have to prove? Facing the same heathens week after week. Whether it was T.J. Parks, Rachel Robinson, Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson, or even Danielle Lopez, there is only so much meaning you can draw in making continuous examples of Team Lethality. You have fought on countless occasions with the exact same faces, and each time, through His good graces, you triumphed on every single occasion. You allowed yourself to be consumed with a personal quest for vengeance against Reaper. You brought this upon yourself, Jerry. The…oh what’s the term, white noise, I believe, make sense now, Reverend?
Matthews is silent this time. His lips are pursed, perhaps an indication of the extent to which he is contemplating the explanation. About fifteen seconds pass, and he brings his hands up to his forehead, and he begins to shake his head back and forth in shame. Clearly, the Redemption, Alabama native has had a rather unpleasant epiphany.
Jerry Matthews: How could I have become so blind, servant? I, like so many of the ones that I have put down, allowed myself to become hypnotized by the subtle charms of gold. To allow my motivations to become purely personal, completely hypnotized by greed. This mission stretches far beyond the reaches of Team Lethality. Please forgive my insolence, I am not worthy of his love.
Matthews gets down on his knees and bows his head in a plea for forgiveness. The figure looks over the sight of the pastor acknowledging his sins, as if gauging whether he is worthy of the forgiveness he seeks.
Figure: Rise, flawed one. I sense that your change of views is genuine. And be sure to say a prayer of thanks, because this is the only reason why you will not fall out of his favor.
Matthews rises and casts all of his attention at the mysterious figure’s next words.
Figure: Consider this another opportunity. A mulligan, if you will. Among the many who have served the Lord throughout existence, you are hardly the first to question his judgment. It comes with the territory. But, don’t get even the slightest idea of making a continuous habit out of it. You have far more to accomplish, priest. And it won’t be getting any easier. Just pray that you don’t see me again anytime soon. I assure you it will not be on joyous terms.
Jerry Matthews: Thank you, servant. I am not worthy. And, despite the inherent flaws that come with my humanity, rest assured, I will do everything in my power to avoid another chance meeting. I’m sure that you have far more important matters to attend to than a questioning man of the cloth.
Figure: Indeed, now awaken, and heed this lesson well.
The scene rapidly transitions to Matthews jolting awake at his desk. He quickly bows his head to utter a brief prayer of thanksgiving, and then he grabs his Bible and rushes out of the office as the scene fades to black.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene opens to the locker room of “The Evangelist” himself, the Reverend Jerry Matthews. In circumstances departing from the usual, Matthews is not seated on the bench in front of his locker stall, but instead stands behind a simple pulpit. The front of the pulpit bears a cross, but one that has some very distinctive details. The cross consists of two fiery burning swords, the vertical sword coming down rather graphically through the head of a large serpent. He is wearing his white cotton suit, and looks eager to address the members of his faithful flock.
Jerry Matthews: Brothers and sisters, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on my loss to Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson at Slamathon IV two weeks ago. Many of you no doubt remember that I had expressed doubts in the Father’s confidence in me. And to top it all off, my subconscious was prepared to forever place me in the ranks of the forever unclean, to be no better than all of the world’s murderers and rapists. But, thankfully, with a little….let us call it divine intervention, I have come to realize the error of my ways.
Matthews pauses for a short span, as if he is looking for the right words.
Jerry Matthews: I have come to realize how truly slippery of a slope the great red temptor Satan has laid in front of all of us. How short of a road it is to nearly purge yourself from the ranks of the saved. To let one’s own personal quests for vengeance, petty vendettas, and dreams of individual glory cloud the holy work I’ve been tasked to perform. The very redemption of man himself. Friends, please forgive me for my time of weakness, for failing you on such a wide spectrum, and for possessing the insolence to question the Lord’s plans for me, and for the entirety of humanity. Lord, in your name, I ask to give the members of my flock the patience and the inner strength to stomach the fact that, though at times I tend to forget, I am a human myself. In your name, I pray.
Matthews bows his head for a moment of silence. He raises his head and has a devilish look in his eye.
Jerry Matthews: I’ve also come to realize what my ministry is really about.
Matthews pulls out his blue leather-bound Bible, and begins to shake it with force.
Jerry Matthews: It’s about this. The very Word of the Lord itself. About the teachings it holds. Every single, well-thought out word. Filled with so much meaning and literal truth.
Matthews throws the Bible down on the pulpit.
Jerry Matthews: And to combat ALL of those who routinely choose to defile it. Those who say the Lord’s name in a way that’s filled with treacherous venom, those who will bend whatever rule they can to most utterly defy him. That is why I am here. That’s why I do what I do. Why I dole out punishment in His name with so much regularity. And why I take so much joy in it.
An evil smile begins to cross his lips.
Jerry Matthews: That the realm of sinners extends far beyond Ryan “The Reaper” Robinson and the rest of his Team Lethality associates. This coming Saturday night on Rapture, I plan on putting on a showcase. The likes of which will make everyone remember that I am a 6’6, 275 pound, fire-breathing, heathen bashing servant of God. An unfortunate truth that will be reserved for that gun-toting loon Lekkter tha Lunatik. And, yes, friends, he does indeed spell his name with a ‘K.’
Matthews laughs defiantly into the camera.
Jerry Matthews: For you see, brothers and sisters, Lekkter tha Lunatik has drawn a fate that will most definitely prove to be most unfortunate. He is facing a holy weapon of mass destruction, one that finally sees through all the fog that has clouded its vision for the past few months. The same weapon that buried a PCW Hall of Famer alive seven months ago. The same weapon that took every record the PCW Platinum Championship had and shattered them all to the point where such a height may never be reached again. A weapon that has fiercely rededicated itself to its true mission: the eradication of all earthly sin.
"Lekkter, don’t think I haven’t paid attention to you with my peripherals while you’ve been here in PCW. Don’t think that I’m not fully aware that you came within a matter of inches of joining the hallowed club of Scars of the Wrestling Cup winners. That I don’t know that you took Brian Stryker to his very limits when you met. There is no doubt that you know your way around a ring, you exhibit a competence that few and far between can match. But, let me assure you, this will not be your time to shine. Your time to get your fifteen seconds of fame by scoring a victory over a sure-fire first ballot future PCW Hall of Famer."
"With the strength of God imbued in me, I became the greatest champion that this promotion has ever seen. Unlike Danielle Lopez, I didn’t need a humongous layoff to have a sixteen month reign. I did it continuously, no breaks. But, now, my eyes are open. Without the burdensome Platinum Championsip no longer holding me back, I can finally get back to blazing a fiery path of destruction that will resemble a crude version of the impending Armageddon. My work has implications that extend far beyond me, or you, or any other signed performer with PCW."
"Because, Lekkter, you see, the Lord is not happy. He is not happy at you for allowing yourself to degrade to such a low position. As someone who fails to reap any of the number of benefits that come with therapy. And, no doubt, you blame the Lord for all of the mistakes you’ve made. For allowing yourself to become no better than a common piece of ordinary street trash. For giving you the gall to impersonate a holy agent by getting behind the pulpit and attempting to incite a riot. Don’t think he hasn’t seen every move you’ve made."
"I’m glad you took the time to research each of the ten plagues that consumed Egypt during the time of His chosen people’s enslavement. Because now, you’ve familiarized yourself with the idea of what kind of horrors the Lord and I have envisioned for you on Saturday night. I won’t say much, mainly because they are far too graphic to be shared over these airwaves. But, I will let you in on the fact that they are far worse than any number of frogs, locusts, boils or sores you might have in mind. You will suffer, and it will be me standing over your broken and beaten body, all with the faint hope that you will realize the error of your ways so that you may join the ranks of the saved. Fat chance of that, I suppose."
"Say your prayers, Lekkter, for on Saturday night, you will be baptized not with the blood of the Lamb, but with your own. The Word of the Lord, Thanks Be to God."
Matthews angrily picks up his Bible, and makes the sign of the cross with his left arm. He then bows his head for a moment of prayer as the scene fades to black.