America 2009: Survival of the Underclass

The plan to manipulate the Catholic Archbishop of Los Angeles has completely failed.

However, the two were not discouraged. It was the plan with the greatest potential for success, but also the plan with the lowest success rate.

"Mr. Smith, let's just activate the best plan. After all, you might get fed bullets by GD's gunmen at any moment," Karen said in a low voice as they reached the intersection of Fourth Street.

He turned his head to look into Karen's eyes and nodded slightly.

"You guys really—"

"Jesus! Fuck! Christ! Can you shut the fuck up?!" Karen turned around and cursed irritably.

"Alright, lazybones, we're patriotic. Didn't you see we sang that just now?" He shook his head with a smile and said seriously.

John stood behind the two men with a look of disbelief, and asked in confusion, "You're patriotic, so why won't you let me ask?"

He released Karen's hand, turned around, and said solemnly, "What's the use of shouting it out loud if you don't love her in your heart?"

He pointed to Karen, who had turned away, then to his own face. "Look at our faces. Would you believe we're unpatriotic?"

"You green-eyed scumbag, you should look in the mirror. It's not that you doubt our patriotism, but rather whether you yourself are worthy of being called M3?" Karen smirked, mockingly.

John was stunned, as if his mind had been struck by a hammer.

Karen looked at the bewildered John, a cruel smile playing on her lips, and continued to pierce his heart with her words.

"Our ancestors followed our founding father into the Central Plains and established the nation. Your ancestors were white trash who sneaked in later. No, you're not even white trash; you're just a bastard born from an Irish black guy and some unknown scum! And you dare to talk to us about patriotism?"

A flicker of realization crossed John's face, and he nodded mechanically. He, a bastard who didn't even know how he'd gotten to where he was, was now chasing after two competitive white men asking if they loved their country.

But I didn't even question whether I was worthy of being patriotic. This whole thing just doesn't feel right. I've been blinded by the devil!

"Alright, bitch, stop being so vicious and mean." He patted Karen on the shoulder and scolded her.

"Jesus~ He's so annoying, he never stops." Karen rolled her eyes and turned away.

"Lazybones, stop harping on about patriotism. This country was founded by my ancestors, and I have no reason not to love it." After saying that, he patted John, who was still in a daze, and turned away.

John, pondering whether he was worthy of being a patriot, silently followed the two to the right side of the Los Angeles Mission's gate on Fifth Street.

"Operation, Corporal Smith, my life is in your hands." He released Karen's hand and said solemnly.

She gave a perfunctory salute, removed her mask, put on a sweet smile, and said gently, "Unless he's a born gay man, Commander Smith."

He looked at Karen, who was fully engaged, nodded, and exclaimed, "That's it, perfect!"

Karen chuckled and made a feint towards his crotch, startling him so much that he jumped back, his back arching backward and nearly falling. Luckily, he quickly slapped his back a few times to straighten up.

"Coward!"

"Bitch!"

Having succeeded in her prank, she turned and walked towards the Central City Community Church across the street.

Although churches have various Christian decorative elements, their architecture is generally very diverse and does not have a unified style like churches.

The main building of the Central City Community Church is a square three-story white building, covering an area of ​​about 130 square meters.

With a sweet smile on her face, Karen crossed the street and pushed open a single glass door decorated with Christian ornaments.

She looked at the plump, fair-skinned receptionist at the door, her smile growing even sweeter: "Excuse me, I'd like to speak with the pastor. Is he in?"

The receptionist looked at the conservatively dressed, elegantly dressed white girl in front of her, and her eyes softened considerably.

She put on a kind smile and pointed to a middle-aged white man in a white suit behind the lectern not far away: "The pastor is over there, go on, child."

"Thank you, ma'am," Karen said, slightly crouching down.

"No! No! No—hands up! I need to check if you have any weapons!" The receptionist's smile instantly turned serious as she stopped a black boy who had just pushed open the door and shouted.

Karen maintained her sweet smile, walked to the front of the brown pulpit surrounded by two people on the left, squatted slightly towards the pastor, and whispered "Hey."

As the pastor paused his conversation with the young white man in a suit to his left, and turned to look at her face, a hint of sadness lingered in her smile.

"Reverend, may I have a word with you?" she said gently.

The pastor, turning his head, brightened up. He composed himself, pointed to the two people on his left, and calmly said, "Could you wait a moment, madam?"

"Of course, Reverend."

She crouched slightly, turned around, took two steps to sit down on the first small green armchair on the left side of the first row, and looked at him with admiration.

The pastor glanced at his beautiful sweetheart, who was looking at him with a smile and adoration, and lost all interest in comforting the two effeminate men who were crying and seeking solace because they were afraid of going bankrupt.

He casually offered a few perfunctory words to send the two away. His simple "I'm off work" left the Black boy speechless as he turned and left the church in disappointment.

He suppressed his excitement and gave the receptionist at the door a look. The female receptionist nodded slightly, pushed open the door, and stood outside to block anyone trying to enter.

After all that, the entire church reception hall was left with only three passersby in the fourth row by the glass wall, heads down, reading newspapers.

He straightened his back, put on a smile, turned left, took two steps, turned right, took four steps, like a robot, walked to the small soft chair to Karen's right, slowly sat down after 2.5 seconds, turned his head, met her eyes, lowered his tone, and solemnly began:

"My child, may the Lord be with you. Are you troubled by something, or are you troubled in your heart and want to confide in the Lord?"

The smile and admiration in Karen's eyes slowly turned into a touch of sadness, and she fell silent.

He was secretly pleased, put on a kind smile, and asked gently, "Child, don't be afraid. This is the Lord's temple. No one will judge you, and no one will tell you your secrets."

As he spoke, he tentatively placed his hand on Karen's hand, softening his tone: "Whether it's the difficulties in life or the knots in your heart that you can't untie, you can slowly tell me about them. The Lord will forgive everything, and I will help you."

As soon as she finished speaking, a perfectly timed tear slid down Karen's cheek, and she let out a soft whimper.

She hugged the pastor's neck and cried, "My mother...does drugs every day, and my father has started drinking heavily again."

She released the pastor's neck and looked into his eyes: "And my brother, it's utterly incomprehensible! Why would he abandon his family and elope with another man?!"

She grabbed the pastor's hand, whimpering, "Why? Why?"

"Sin, that kind of sin will destroy everything, child," he said gravely, steadying his trembling body.

Karen's sorrowful eyes lit up, and she gripped the priest's hand tightly, urgently asking, "What crime! Priest! Can you help me! Please!"

He kept a tight rein on his expression and solemnly nodded slightly: "You must remove the sinner from your entire life and draw near to the one who can redeem you."

"Can...who...can..." she stammered, then her eyes lit up. "Can you save me, priest?"

Overjoyed, he unconsciously shifted his feet slightly, and nodded calmly: "A few more rituals are needed."

"Whatever the ritual, I'll do anything to escape this hell! Pastor!" She nodded eagerly, her face full of longing.

His calves began to tremble slightly. After a two-second silence, he leaned close to Karen's ear and whispered, "Come here at 7 p.m. tonight. I'll help you purify your sins."

Karen paused for a moment, then whispered sweetly in his ear, "Could I bring my luggage, Reverend?"

He finally couldn't maintain his composure; his whole body trembled slightly, and he nodded with a slight smile.

"Karen, Reverend?" she asked, stroking his thumb.

"Cole." He blushed slightly, his lips curving wider as he spoke softly.

Karen released his hand, stood up, and whispered in his ear, "It sounds nice, perfect for a soft whisper, one more time~ Cole~"

His body shuddered violently, his fingers trembled, his face flushed instantly, and his underwear was soaked.

Just when things got awkward—

"Just the two of us, Cole," Karen whispered, then turned gently, her hem lightly brushing against Cole's knees, and walked toward the door.

Cole turned his head away, closed his eyes, exhaled sharply, and clutched his chest, his heart pounding.