The man chuckled grimly, as if he even tasted the bittersweet in his next words. "Monsters cannot atone by good deeds. Demons cannot gaze into the face of God and plea for mercy. I would believe the latter if I was faithful, but I see it as a metaphor. The only fate for us is to wander and taste more blood. I do wonder what you saw when you looked into the abyss. No 'maleficent force of evil' that is tangible and quite cliche... When you looked into the dead pupils of your victims, what did you see? What transformed you into what you are today? Forgive me. The curious meandering of a nomad such as myself." With astounding speed the man drew his revolver from its holster and fired a shot several feet away from Irina, right in front of her. His draw speed was fast, almost as fast as the cyborg cowboy... He put another bullet in the chamber and holstered the revolver. "A shame how I must do this. But consider this salvation, Vileblood," he said that name like the name of a new friend, unknowing nor uncaring of the bloody history behind it. "allow me to take upon the weight of your sins, so that you may not toil with your own demons as I did. You can never convince yourself they're gone. They never are. I am sorry. But the next bullet will not be a warning shot. Such is the fate for monsters like us."