ryethenovel Chapter 58 I am not declaring war on capitalism!
Chapter 58 I am not declaring war on capitalism!
The subway rumbled from Manhattan to Brooklyn, with Titus and John sitting opposite each other.
Both of them were covered in blood. As soon as they sat down, a small vacuum area appeared. The hemoglobin and protein in the coagulated blood were decomposed by bacteria into a foul, sour smell.
IRT Line 1 is a genuine century-old subway line.
Beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, at the bottom of the East River, in the heart of bustling North America, lies a dilapidated subway station.
Exposed iron pipes, rough cement pillars resembling those from a construction site, and gas light bulbs from the last century...
The subway station uses these worn-out objects to silently tell its nearly 100-year history, almost catching up with the history of the United States!
Also thanks to the long history and aging equipment of the subway stations, the management and control are relatively relaxed.
Titus even saw a wall covered with 'Teenager' graffiti, flamboyant yet oppressive, and to put it bluntly, it was simply... a huge pile of shit!
This is how Titus and his companion were able to board the train, but according to Titus, his eloquence played a crucial role in the process.
He told the security guard that what they were doing was called Cosplay, and they were dressed up as the famous assassin: Assassin World! It was a popular culture among young people!
You're saying this blood looks so real? Of course it does, otherwise it wouldn't be called a simulated blood pack!
He watched the security guard nod repeatedly, even nodding after every sentence he spoke, thinking he had achieved great success!
Until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of someone gracefully leaping over the railing, while the security guard beside him watched with great relish, devouring a hot McDonald's cheeseburger...
The story returns to the conversation between John and Titus.
"Tell me, what exactly do you want to do?"
John hesitated for a moment, then added:
"You need to give me a sense of what's going on."
Titus said without hesitation:
"I want to kill Vigo Tarasov, and John Wick, you owe me one. Remember, I saved your dog and stayed by your side all night, even though you're a grown man."
John's cold, sharp eyes, hidden beneath his disheveled hair, lowered slightly as he looked at the steel floor and slowly said:
"Is that really all there is to it, someone like you...?"
John was filled with images of phenomena surrounding Titus that defied scientific explanation, which could not be overstated as miracles.
But John was more inclined to believe he was the devil…
Titus pondered for a moment, then untied the straps and, with a bang, slammed the cello case to his side.
"What kind of person am I...?"
"Actually... I want to become a legend."
Do you know what price you have to pay to become a legend?
John was slightly surprised. His dark eyes held a myriad of memories, as if a thousand troops were passing through his mind.
He was once an undisputed legend in the underground assassin world, a living legend; he once had everything and a loving wife.
Titus continued:
"An awe-inspiring feat."
"A truly amazing achievement."
John paused for a moment, then commented without any politeness:
"childish……"
Titus couldn't help but chuckle, thinking that perhaps he was just a naive person.
His initial goal in hunting down Vigo was to obtain the blessing of the god of courage and glory, while the old man Crawford's mission was a secondary objective.
But now, he has a greater purpose, one worth dedicating his life to:
Become a legend, a legend in the underground assassin world, the one and only god in all of North America!
Titus thought that this was by no means a whim, but a well-thought-out decision...
He grew up in the South District. He had witnessed the true power of what people jokingly called the "killing line," and saw how the upper class gradually encroached on their neighborhoods, with upscale cafes and fine Western restaurants inexplicably appearing in the slums, and large numbers of vegetarians moving in...
They turned North America into a capitalist imperial machine, fueled by the people's broken spirits, shattered dreams, and hard-earned money, along with lubricants like leaves and powdered sugar.
For a long time, they have controlled everything from the very foundation of people's livelihoods. A letter of recommendation is indispensable for a good university and a good job. The medical system only serves those with decent jobs. Day after day of work makes it difficult to avoid addictive reinforcements...
He knew that the FBI couldn't change the status quo, so why go further down a path that was doomed to fail?
Why can't he become the god of the new world?
North America, this world that's like a cesspool inlaid with gold, needs a god, a real god!
As for his first step toward becoming a god, he wanted to try to become a legend and overturn that damned High Table, because a world ruled by money and power was not worth existing.
North America needs to change...
Thinking of this, Titus smiled slightly and asked:
"John, do you know the secret to becoming a legend?"
"What?"
"Grab your tools—let's fucking get to him!"
……
Little Russian Church, Brooklyn.
This is a Gothic building with towering pointed arches that pierce the sky. The blazing sun makes it hard to look directly at the building, and the stained glass windows refract colorful light.
Titus and John exchanged a glance, then strode into the church. The six-meter-high main entrance was pushed open, revealing a church with a distinctly Russian Orthodox style:
This is a dimly lit and solemn hall. It is evening, but the only light source in the church is the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows and the golden candlelight on the walls.
Rough stone pillars carved with reliefs support the church, and heavy dark red curtains partially obscure the stained-glass windows.
The black walnut wood walls are adorned with religiously significant oil paintings: the Fourteen Stations of the Cross, the Offering of the Son in the Temple, and the Passion and Resurrection.
Rows upon rows of thick wooden benches stretched from the Holy Gate to the innermost altar, and directly above the altar was a small platform for the choir.
It is worth mentioning that Titus noticed a white sculpture on the altar—a relief of the Passion of Jesus.
Titus had only walked a few steps on the marble floor when he saw the red-robed priest on the altar through rows of wooden benches. He looked like a latecomer to a movie theater where the curtain had already fallen.
The red-clad priest, with his white hair and red vestment, was clearly a venerable and theologically knowledgeable elder.
At this moment, he was giving a Mass confession. There weren't many believers in the audience, but the priest was still explaining earnestly.
This scene made Titus wonder if Joseph had given him the wrong address, and if it was actually just a sacred cathedral belonging to an elderly priest.
He recognized the confession as originating from Dante's Purgatory:
"Oh, you who stand outside the sacred stream"
She turned to me, her words as sharp as a blade.
Do you think all of this is real?
Faced with such serious accusations
You should confess your sins and admit your transgressions.
Fear and shame intertwined, forcing me to utter a "yes".
So light it was almost silent, only a glance could tell;
I broke down under the accusations, tears streaming down my face.
Sighs continued, and the sound faded away midway.
She said to me, "Why are you crying?"
Have you not heard of God’s mercy?
His arms are always open.
Accept all sinners who turn back.
The old priest's gentle recitation stirred John's heart, and he couldn't help but recall the sins he had committed, those unforgivable killings...
If you were to ask Mr. John Wick whether he was a devout Christian,
Mr. John Wick's answer was undoubtedly: to hell with piety; he was nothing but a walking corpse who couldn't find a reason to die.
And turning to the Lord sounds like a good choice, isn't it sacred and solemn?
He was confused. After avenging his great enemy, what was there to miss in a world without his wife Helen Wick?
Just as John was struggling with the philosophical question of to be or not to be, Titus's voice rang in his ears:
"John, what is this old man babbling about? You're saying that believing in their Lord is less practical than believing in the Emperor and the Four Gods?"