"I wonder if that Dobrowski chick is close to New York," Max mused while driving with Lucas in the passenger seat. They were on a broad pick-up truck, and a few hulking Undeads were riding in the cargo bed.
"The one you killed in your past life?" Lucas was trying to keep up with all the stories Max told him. He was honestly almost resigned to be one day slaughtered by the man as soon as its entertainment ran its course.
"Yep. Dude, she was so annoying! The messiest person I have ever met! She also looked like a cow! You would think that Polish people would be all slender and elegant, right? But, no, she had these huge knockers that made her look like a cow to be milked. Yuck, disgusting. I think that women with big tits look kind of fat, don't they? And what's up with the trend of these big butts and fat women being promoted everywhere?"
If there were something that truly angered Max, that would definitely be fat people. While spectating at no small number of tortures performed on other people, Lucas had discovered that Max truly hated bald and fat people.
"Yo, Lucas? You awake?"
Shit, Lucas had forgotten to reply.
"Sorry, Max, I was daydreaming a bit. I was wondering how strong this woman you are talking about was."
"Oh, she wasn't half bad. If my memory serves well, the Dobrowski chick had a somewhat high talent for magic. Let's say… 8th or 9th level. But she had a crippling weakness: her Qi talent was abysmal. Apparently, she found some Ancient Ruins, though, and she got out with a Cultivation Technique that fit her perfectly. Tsk, why is it that the do-goody people always get lucky?"
"Plot armor?" Lucas cracked a joke, and Max laughed so hard they almost crashed the car.
"Oh, shoot, man. That was a good one. Yeah, the Nazi supervillain doesn't get the easy powerups, I guess."
"Isn't your Cultivation Technique extremely strong?" Lucas asked, confused.
"Oh yeah, but it took me years to get something decent. I started out as a simple mix between a Mage and a Warrior. I was throwing Fireballs right and left, you know? I still got a very good aim from those times. Man, that's how I developed the Necromantic Fire, by the way, and discovered my Affinity for Necromantic Magic."
Lucas looked out of the car window, asking himself how he could even talk so normally with that monster. Had the atrocities become dull after more than a month with him? Why was he still alive, even? Well, on the one hand, he couldn't kill himself; on the other, he really wished a meteor struck the both of them.
The more time he spent with Max, the more tainted he felt. It was like having the worse company in the world and somewhat liking it. If he never understood before how people could hang out with criminals and delinquents, now he felt like a huge hypocrite.
Max was a monster, but he was a pleasant person at any other moment. He was not eviscerating or torturing someone. The fact that they were alone all the time also made him the only human partner he could share something with. And unless he started talking with Undeads or crucified half-dead people, that wouldn't change anytime soon.
"By the way!" Max basically shouted, "I was thinking about it, and I think I'll get my tattoo off. I should be able to do that to my skin after crossing the Oriole realm to the Hound realm. I'll use the breakthrough to clean up my skin really well. I kept it in my past life because it told a story, you know? But I'm not sure I want to be put in a box anymore. I found the Nazis a bit limited. Why only the Jews, the Homosexuals, and the Gypsies? I mean, people, a wider vision wouldn't be that bad, would it?"
Lucas felt like vomiting on the spot.
"Bald people and fat people, I guess," Lucas offered.
"YES, THANK YOU! Man, fat people. Can you imagine folds in your skin? What's that? How is that a thing? The skin should be smooth and unblemished. And I get it if you have some skin imperfections – which totally do not justify such a person to be still alive – but I get it; the skin thing is only partially your choice. But fat people? How can you be fat when you can just walk around a bit and lose weight? Anorexic people are much better in this regard! They look all neat and bony, like Skeletal Undeads!"
"I think I was a dog in my past life," Max made a brief pause and chuckled, "I mean, my past-past-life. I was the Undeath Tyrant in the past one. The supervillain Nazi Necromancer! Oh man, I need a new title now, don't I? Lucas, help me come up with something!"
Lucas saw one of the things that made it impossible for him to forget why the Necromancer was a monster.
"Oh, Lucas, Lucas! Look, people! Oh, shoot, they are all black, aren't they? Oh, man! I wanted to brainstorm for advice on the new title, but I can't ask them!" Max made a disgusted face.
Lucas, the nurse, watched as Max slowly pulled over to the lane. He could see some people walking on the road they had been driving on. There were many women and children, a true rarity for what Lucas had observed so far.
He had never been as much of a believer as his father had, but he still looked up to the sky and mouthed a silent player.