“¿Cobra, porqué yo?” Victor pleaded with desperation.
“Porque le tienes miedo,” Cobra said with a nod toward Keitaro.
“You were getting soft, Victor,” Thiago said to the air as if Victor’s ghost would be floating.
“Slowing us down with your conscience,” Gunner said.
Cobra poured himself a glass of Rosé. “Tell me your thoughts.” He spoke to Keitaro, but pointed to Victor.
“It’s Purgatory,” Keitaro said. “His sins keep him tethered. He has to undergo the fire trials to be purified for the Light of Heaven.”
Cobra sat forward and put his empty glass on the table.
“Unless you weaken him and send him as a sinner to Hell,” Keitaro said.
Keitaro shook his head. “There is no other option. You kill them or you save them.”
“Or you control them.”
“You can’t control a soul. Freewill protects them.”
“How do you explain possession then?” Cobra said.
“I don’t know about demons.”
“Possession is a demon forcing its way into a human’s body, taking over their mind and body without their consent.”
Keitaro sank to his right arm for support as his eyes crossed and his head spun. He slipped on the slick blood on his palm, nearly crashing into the coffee table. “I don’t know.”
Cobra crouched before Keitaro, plucking off his sunglasses. Even through the throbbing pain and the haze of sight, Keitaro managed to focus on Cobra’s features. Short hair that made his head look big; sharp, defined sideburns. A trimmed goatee that spread up his cheeks. Hollow brown eyes that almost looked black. The eyes of a soulless, selfish savage.