Have you ever tried to clean up a mess with a dirty cloth, friends?

You scrub away, desperately trying to get rid of the dirt you’ve made it your mission to cleanse. Yet, for some reason, you just seem to spread more filth.

It’s an amusing little paradox, the harder you scrub and clean your little life away… the dirtier things become.

It’s not the mess that is the problem, but your filthy little rag.

You’ve been scrubbing away at Arcadia for long enough now boys. While Nero has scrubbed away at those cyber-highways, you Reverend Graves have busied yourself cleansing Arcadia of all the sin you can find.

You scrubbed away at Red’s Nightclub because it offended you. But your actions were tainted with the dirt of shady dealings and closed door meetings.

You brought the holy fire upon dens of sin, the Circus and the Gathering. You killed them, burned them without remorse to pass your judgement.

Your own little crusade of purity. Cleansing the sin from our world. 

But every action of your purity crusade has brought more dirt upon that cloth. Stained with not the sin of others, but your own impure filth.

You may talk the talk, Reverend, but you don’t walk on water. Oh yes, there’s plenty of blood on your hands.

But blood of sinners doesn’t count, right? They wouldn’t notice that you’re every bit as sinful as those you murder in your god’s name. But what use is being a man of the cloth when that cloth is covered in the blood of sin and the filth of corruption?

Only… Nero saw that.

He took your sister away from you, kept her from your sinful ways. He stole everything from you, took that tarnished collection money and tainted your flock. 

Still, an eye for an eye seems like quite a hypocritical way to lead a flock, doesn’t it? You have your followers caged in like animals to your ideals… how terrible! 

Look at all that mucky sin! Your cloth, Father, has become filthy.

So it begs the question, Revered. How do you clean the cloth? You preach purity, but just like the ACA, you cannot even clean your own lives. You never learn.

That Arcadia is… dirty. It always has been. 

Trying to clean it is like a sponge bath in pig slop. It’s a little… pointless. But pigs are happy because they know the secret.

Happiness is not about being clean, pure and sinless. There’s no Sunshine in a life like that.

What’s life without a little dirt? I don’t care that your cloth is dirty. Or that you’re a greedy, self-serving bastard. I care about the fact that you pretend your doodie doesn’t stink… and that you keep on scrubbing, pretending that your cloth is clean.

You need to wallow in the mud and smile through the grime. Maybe then, you and Nero and your sister-wife can live in happiness in that twisted little incestuous love triangle that’s got you all in such a pickle.

Put down your cloth, Reverend Graves. You’re not fooling anyone anymore.