Orok's Ball - SCP Foundation

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Graphic depiction of blood, gore or mutilation of body parts

Features sexual themes or language, but does not depict sexual acts.

Explicit depiction of sexual acts.

Features non-consensual sexual acts.

Depiction of severe mistreatment of children

Depiction of self-harm

Depiction of suicide

Depiction of torture

Features strong language, misogyny and homophobia.

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"So, which one is it?"

"What?"

"Well, he had two, right?"

"How the fuck would I know which one?"

« SCP-2408 - Orok's Fall

The doors to the van fly open, then a large black bag containing a round object is dropped inside with a wet squelch. The van door is slammed shut.

Pyotr remains seated in the driver's seat on the left-hand side of the van, the engine idling, as Pavel flings open the door on the other side. Pavel climbs into the passenger's seat on the right-hand side, then sits there, breathing heavily.

"You got it?"

"Just drive, you idiot!"

Pyotr takes off the hand brake, and quickly drives the unmarked white van out of the underground parking garage.

"I just wanted to check, Pavel."

"You thought it was my fucking groceries, Pyotr?"

They sit in silence for a while. It's late at night, and there isn't much traffic. Pyotr drives through the streets of Moscow, exactly at the speed limit.

"So, which one is it?"

"What?"

"Well, he had two, right?"

"How the fuck would I know which one?"

"I figured you would have seen it. You know, when they took it out."

"Why would I have watched that?"

"I don't know. I was just curious."

Pyotr looks over his shoulder into the cargo area in the back of the van.

"Eyes on the road, idiot."

"It's very big."

"He's 300 metres tall! If anything, this is pretty small!"

"Should we be… I don't know, keeping it on ice?"

"All they told me was to keep it from getting too dry."

"You got a damp ball sack for it?"

"Fuck you. Yes."

"And it's not going to… I don't know… rot?"

"This thing is over a thousand years old!

If Orok's balls haven't rotted by now, they never will."

"Do you know where the other one went?"

"No, of course I don't."

"You didn't ask?"

"You idiot! We're not meant to know!

If they catch us, we stay quiet, and hope they kill us quickly!"

"You think they're following us?"

"If they are, we're fucked. They had goddamn flamethrowers."

"The cops had flamethrowers?"

"They're not cops. We own the cops. These guys are something else."

"Who are they then?"

"No idea. Some secret government thing."

"I thought we bribed them too?"

"I guess Mister Iosava didn't pay enough."

"Pavel, why did we get it?"

"What do you mean, Pyotr?"

"Why us, specifically? I mean, no offense, but you're not exactly…"

"I'm officially Zend now. You remember that."

"OK, but only recently. And I'm… er…"

"You're still Orin. A servant. Come on, you idiot, it's not that hard to learn."

"So why are they trusting us? With Orok's ball?

He only had two of those, right?"

"Well… Not sure about that actually. I assume so."

"That's not really the question I wanted answering."

"I think it's mostly because I said you had a van."

"Really?"

"This would be hard to squeeze into the back of a car."

"And there were no other volunteers?"

"Not really. I mean… I don't think anyone else wanted to touch it."

"But you're perfectly happy to hold a testicle?"

"Fuck you. I thought it might give us both a shot at promotion. If we don't fuck it up."

"We won't."

"Just so you know, Mister Iosava said if we didn't protect it, he'd cut off our own balls."

"Fuck. OK. I get it."

"Then he said he'd have someone shove a spike so far up my ass that I'd taste it at the back of my throat."

"He said all that?"

"It was implied. You know he's done that before?"

"Of course I do."

"Oh yeah. I forgot you saw that."

"I'm definitely never going to forget it!"

"It's rolling around back there."

"What?"

"Orok's ball."

"So what?"

"I'm just saying. I don't want to deliver Mister Iosava damaged goods.

He'd definitely break our own balls."

"You have a point…"

"We need to stop for supplies. Maybe the ball will stay still if we wedge them in around it?"

"Should we really stop right now?"

"We left Moscow hours ago. If they're still following us, we're fucked."

"True."

"Besides, we're going to be in the middle of nowhere soon.

We should stock up now. Fuel, food, drinks."

"It's going to be a long drive."

"Also, I really need to piss."

"Pavel, are you sure we can't stop at a motel?

I think we could find one if we kept going a little longer."

"Pyotr, do you want to bring in the ball sack?"

"Well… I guess…"

"Fuck you. We're sleeping in the van."

"I get it. We've got to keep it close. I just…"

"What?"

"If I'd thought about it, I would have gotten us blankets."

"Really?"

"It's fucking cold!

"You little bitch."

"Fuck you! You wish you'd thought of it too!"

"There's a big pillow in the back if you want something soft to lie on."

"Shut up! I'm going to sleep!"

"Pavel, is that actually our destination?"

"No Pyotr, we're just stopping there to get directions.

They didn't want me to know where we're actually taking it until after we'd made it out of Moscow."

"Who even are these people?"

"They're not part of the Black Lodge, but one of Mister Iosava's contacts in Moscow knows them.

They're willing to do us a favor."

"Are they like the crones we had? Old believers?"

"Sort of? It's different though.

They worship… Some sort of Rotten Ruler?"

"That sounds fucking disgusting."

"I was told they're big on decay. Mold, disease, that sort of thing.

It's not too different to that Red Death we were selling."

"And we really have to stop there?"

"They can tell us where we're meant to go next. I was told we can trust them."

"I bet that's because nobody else wants to go anywhere near them."

"Probably! But I'm not going to question Mister Iosava."

"This place smells like shit."

"That's the countryside for you."

"There's rotting food piled up outside!"

"That's just compost! Pyotr, I can tell you're a city boy."

"Fuck off Pavel, so are you."

"Before we go in to ask for directions, remember they're doing us a favor.

It's important to be polite. Don't insult or joke about their… er… blessings."

"Their what?"

"You know I said something about disease being sacred to them?"

"Is this some sort of leper colony? Are you sure we're not going to catch anything?"

"I don't think it's that bad… we’re probably fine if we don't stay too long."

"I can't believe you tried to set me up with that whore!"

"She wasn't a whore! She said she'd do it for free."

"Why were you even trying? That place was disgusting!"

"The smell wasn't that bad once you got used to it.

We were waiting for directions, and you seemed very stressed.

I thought it would relax you."

"I'm not sticking my dick in that!"

"Come on, she didn't look that bad.

Especially compared to everyone else there."

"She had goddamn sores all over her body!"

"Oh. I didn't notice those."

"It wasn't obvious until she had her tits out!"

"Eh… At that point, I might have just gone for it."

"You want your cock to rot off?"

"See, that's why you wear a condom.

I have some with me, you should have asked."

"I still wouldn't want to! I have standards!"

"Pyotr, this is the reason you're still a virgin."

"Pavel, would you have fucked her?"

"Probably not. But then, I have a girlfriend in Krasnoryask."

"Pyotr, are you even interested in women?"

"What?"

"It's fine if you'd rather get fucked by a man.

I wouldn't care. I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I'm not gay, Pavel!"

"I was just wondering. You never seem enthusiastic when you get the opportunity."

"I just have standards, Pavel! They're not even very high! But I have standards!"

"I mean, you didn't want the whore when we went to the Red Lanterns either.

That’s weird. They’re even better looking than my girlfriend.”

"Are you an idiot?"

"What?"

"They literally eat men! Everyone knows that!

You hook up with a Rusalka, you're dinner!"

"They wait until you're finished though, right?"

"What?"

"Just finish quickly, then leave."

"You're good at that, are you?"

"Of course."

"No wonder your girlfriend left you."

"I told you, she moved to Krasnoyarsk! We're still dating!"

"Of course you are."

"We talk on the phone! I was going to visit her, then all this shit went down!"

"Whatever. Just let me drive."

"I can't believe we're only halfway there."

"That doesn't sound right. We're already in Siberia!"

"Siberia's massive, you idiot. It's most of the fucking country. And we'll be much slower once we turn off the highway."

"I should probably check the map."

"You really should, Pavel. Especially if you're not going to drive."

"You never let me, Pyotr! You said I wasn't licensed for a vehicle this size!"

"Yeah, that's right.

I don't think we'll get stopped, but I'd rather not risk it.

Also, I don't trust you not to crash."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because your last car got written off!"

"That doesn't count! I was drunk at the time!"

"Pavel, that definitely still counts against you."

"Oh come on Pyotr, are you really so perfect?"

"I can honestly say that I've never been in a crash in my life.

I don't plan to start now."

"You were right, Pyotr. This really is the middle of nowhere."

"Do you know why they're making us drive all the way out here?"

"What? You really don't know?"

"Obviously not! I'm asking!"

"I guess you wouldn't know.

This is where the Black Lodge was founded!"

"Right here?"

"No, you idiot, here as in Siberia! I'm not sure where."

"We've already established Siberia is a big place, Pavel!"

"Fine. But that makes it perfect if we need to lie low for a while.

That's basically how the Black Lodge got started."

"I've never heard much about that.

Is it like, a secret thing you get told about when you become Zend?"

"Nope. I only know because I bought a bottle of Vodka for some of the old-timers."

"Of course."

"Apparently, Mister Iosava's father was imprisoned out here in a gulag.

Like, fifty years ago or something."

"Oh, I had heard something about that."

"He managed to escape. Him and a few others.

But the problem was, they'd been sent all the way out to Siberia."

"And as we can see, there's fuck all out here!"

"He didn't even have a car.

They weren't invented back then."

"So how did he get back?"

"Oh, they were tough back then. They walked."

"Fuck, that's a long way. And what did they eat?"

"Apparently, you bring a new guy with you.

You know, not lost all his body fat yet."

"How does that help?"

"You can eat him."

"Wait, really? I think they were messing with you, Pavel. No way."

"I'm just telling you what I heard.

Anyway, Mister Iosava's father was hiding out here for a long time.

Eventually, he met up with the crones.

Made a deal, got power from them, then made his way back to Moscow."

"Did he… eat everyone else?"

"Of course not, a few others came back with him!

They hunted for food after that.

They became the original Black Lodge."

"Are any of them still around?"

"Maybe one or two. Most got killed fighting cops, or the military, or each other.

Real tough guys. They don't make criminals like that anymore."

"But they were all in prison, right?"

"Of course! That's where they met!"

"I just never get why the old-timers brag about how long they spent behind bars.

If they were so good at being criminals, why did they end up there in the first place?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the whole point of doing crime is not getting caught, right?"

"Yeah, but it happens eventually."

"Only if someone fucks up. I'm not going to prison if I can help it!"

"Sure, but prison toughens you up!

You come back at least twice as dangerous as before!"

"You want to go then, Pavel? For the learning experience?

I bet we can still find one out here!"

"Of course not! We have a job to do!"

"Well there you go."

"Pyotr, you'd better not say this around any of the old-timers.

They'll eat you alive."

"Yeah, they actually would do that, wouldn't they…

Er… forget I said anything about this!"

"Pavel, I think we're being followed."

"Fuck. Really?"

"I recognize the car behind us."

"The shiny black convertible?"

"Do you see any others on the road?"

"Just checking, Pyotr. Try to lose it, I guess."

"I have been! That's why I left the main road. They followed."

"Oh. I didn't notice."

"Some map-reader you are."

"Fuck you. It has to be them, right?"

"I'm not so sure."

Pyotr slows, allowing the car to approach.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted a closer look."

"And?"

"Driver's a woman. Passenger's a bald man.

Seems to be a third person in the back.

"Hang on. I recognize that bald guy. And the woman. And the car."

"Really? Where from?"

"Good news is, he's not working for the government."

"Oh, he's a friend?"

"Not exactly. He's with the Meat Circus."

"Who?"

"They kept trying to sell us… er… well, I think they used to be people."

"What?"

"They were… turned into art? I guess?"

"Art… made from corpses?"

"No, I think most of them were still alive.

And the ones that weren't alive still moved."

"Fuck me."

"You see that car? The driver's part of it."

"What does that even mean?"

"I was working security at an event one time.

That car was parked outside, I went over to check it out.

Her arms are connected into it, where the steering wheel and gearstick should be."

"Why the fuck would anyone do that?"

"Same reason rich guys have fancy cars. To show off.

My car is hotter than your girlfriend, that sort of thing."

"You'd fuck a car?"

"If it looked like her I would. But when I asked, she wasn’t interested."

"You're disgusting. Focus, Pavel.

Why would they be following us?"

"The man just waved."

"You think he's friendly?"

"Fuck no! He's not going to come all the way out here just to lend a helping hand!

He probably wants to fuck us up, then sell us as sculptures!"

"There's really a market for that?"

"Oh, definitely. Mister Iosava put them in contact with some of his friends."

"Some of those guys were nasty sons of bitches.

But why would they turn on us now?"

"Everyone loves to kick a man when he's down.

You really want to stop and find out?"

"Nope."

"We're running out of fuel."

"Fuck."

"Any sign of them slowing?"

"Nope."

"Shit. Should we stop? We're armed, right?"

"They could also have guns. And it's 3 on 2."

"Not sure if the driver counts. You said she doesn’t have hands, right?

Anyway, aren't you… you know? Special?"

"I don't have any Wrath left."

"Shit. Why not?"

"I used it all up in Moscow!

I had to carry the ball on my own, that takes some muscle!"

"OK, but he's just some artist, right? How tough can he be?"

"That time I was working security, he put on a live performance.

I didn't see anything except the end result…"

"Are you afraid of theatre, Pavel?"

"He reshaped people like they were fucking clay!

I don't want him touching me!"

"Fuck. OK then. I'll run them off the road."

"What? I thought you said you never planned to crash!"

"We're in a van, they're in a sportscar. We'll destroy them!

That doesn't count as crashing."

"OK. That works. Let's do this."

Pyotr slams on the brakes, then swerves into the middle of the road. The black car tries to evade but still slams into the back of the van, shattering a headlamp. Pyotr then floors the accelerator.

"I fucking got them!"

"Nice… But they're still behind us."

"Let them come."

The black car quickly catches up.

"What are you waiting for?"

"We need them to get closer. They'll expect it this time."

"They're not getting closer."

Behind them, the roof of the black convertible is opening. Something climbs up from the car's back seat.

"What is that thing?"

"You've never seen a black person before?"

"That's not a person, moron! That thing is dead!"

The humanoid figure standing in the back of the car is a withered corpse with dark and leathery skin.

"Oh… you're right. Fuck, let's get out of here."

"This piece of shit can't go any faster!"

The car slowly approaches the van. The moving corpse climbs up onto the front seats.

"Is it going to jump?"

"It'll never make it."

It jumps, then is shoved towards the van by the bald man in the car's passenger seat. His arms extend, reaching almost all the way to the van.

There's a thud on the roof of the van, then the sound of nails scraping on metal, then the groaning creak of holes being punctured.

"What was that?"

The sound repeats, slightly further forward on the roof, but to the right of the original sound. There's a screech of metal tearing, then another impact to the left.

"It did make it! It's climbing across the roof!"

"I'll shake it off!"

Pyotr violently swerves the van from side to side.

The sound continues to progress across the roof above them.

"Stop! This isn't helping!"

"You have a better idea?"

"I do."

Pavel pulls an empty syringe out of his pocket, then leans towards the black bag in the back of the van.

"What are you… Oh… Don't tell me you're going to inject that."

"Where do you think Wrath comes from?

This is fresh from the source."

"Sure. Go ahead and shoot up spunk!"

A hand stretches across the windshield in front of Pyotr, fingertips outstretched and tipped with claws made from black metal. They slowly scrape across the glass, leaving deep scratches.

"Fuck!"

The syringe is now full of murky red liquid. Pavel pulls up his sleeve, and injects it into a vein on his upper left arm.

"Damn, that burns!"

It takes effect immediately, the muscles of Pavel's left arm swelling. The rest of his body grows more slowly.

"It's working! Open the window!"

Pavel is distracted by the continued scratching of metallic nails on the windscreen, creating a spiderweb of small cracks.

"Hurry up!"

His mouth is now sprouting fangs and tusks, and his body is growing a coat of coarse hair. Impatiently, Pavel breaks the glass of the side window with his now enlarged and clawed fist, and climbs out of the new opening.

"Wait…"

"I've got her!"

Pavel slams the moving corpse's head down into the roof, denting the metal and shattering the windscreen. Glass shards shower onto Pyotr.

"FUCK!"

Brushing aside glass, Pyotr struggles to keep the van on the road. The roof above him is loudly dented again.

"FUCK!"

Pavel's legs, still standing on his seat, twitch. Pyotr hears the sound of flesh being torn by sharp claws.

"OFF!"

Pavel throws his massively increased bulk to the side, and succeeds in tearing the corpse's claws out of the roof of the van. He then loses his balance, and falls out of the window and onto the road below.

"PAVEL!"

The two bodies roll across the tarmac, bones breaking loudly. The black car swerves to avoid them, but still runs over Pavel's outstretched hand.

"GOD DAMMIT! Pavel…"

The two bodies quickly recede into the distance. Pyotr's foot remains on the accelerator, as the black car approaches him.

"Fuck you."

Pyotr takes his foot off the accelerator, and briefly brakes instead. The black car swerves to the left to avoid him. The vehicles are now side by side.

Looking across at the open roof of the convertible, Pyotr sees the driver on the far side, her left arm buried in the dashboard and her right arm joined to the gearstick. The bald male passenger is closer to Pyotr, and smiles and waves at him. There is a naked thing curled up on the back seat.

"FUCK OFF!"

Pyotr floors the accelerator and swerves to the left, slamming his white van into the black car. The vehicle is forced into a metal crash barrier at the side of the road, and abruptly stops moving forward.

"SHIT!"

Pyotr swerves to the right to avoid crashing into the same barrier, and flips the van onto its left-hand side. It slides across the tarmac with a deafening screech, then stops.

"Ow… Fuck…"

The van is on its side. Pyotr held in his seat by his seatbelt, still clutching the steering wheel. He lets go, and struggles to get out of his seat, landing in broken glass and cutting his hand and face. He then looks into the back of the van.

"Oh shit."

Red liquid is splattered over all their supplies. Pyotr climbs into the back of the van, then immediately pulls open the leaking black bag to reveal an intact testicle.

"Fuck me. That's a relief."

He slumps down to sit on the wall of the van, which is now the floor. One of the back doors is open to reveal the road outside. A person with very long limbs is climbing out of the crashed car behind him.

"God dammit…"

Pyotr climbs over the chair to retrieve his pistol from the glove compartment, then vaults back over the seat to point it out the back of the van. Although he can no longer see anyone, he can hear a calm voice.

"I don't suppose you're willing to exchange insurance information?

I borrowed that car from a friend, so this is very embarrassing."

"Stay the fuck away!"

"I take it you're going to be difficult. Very well. Fetch!"

Something runs onto the road from the side, and approaches the doors of the van. Pyotr opens fire at it as it runs towards him on all fours.

"DIE!"

Most of Pyotr's shots miss, but the last few drop it just as a creature resembling a hairless dog approaches the back door of the van. Pyotr keeps firing until the gun is empty.

"What the hell is that!"

Now that it lies still, it is clear that it is actually a man, his body reshaped to give it the proportions of a dog.

"Did you just shoot my dog?

Do you have any idea how hard it was to train after I made it?"

The voice comes from the side of the van, now very close. Pyotr tries to reload the pistol as quickly as possible.

An arm extends into the van through the open back door, snatches the pistol out of Pyotr's hand with long fingers, then quickly retracts to the outside.

"I will take that."

"What the hell are you!"

There is a clatter as the pistol is tossed away onto the tarmac.

"I would like to talk to you."

"What do you want?"

A bald head leans over to look through the open doors at the back of the van, and a hand reaches in. The man's entire body seems to be stretched.

"I would like to take your… organ."

"My organs?"

"No. The organ you have been transporting."

The stretched man's body remains outside the van, but his arm elongates as it reaches towards the giant testicle. Pyotr clutches it to his chest with both arms. There is a soft squelch, and red liquid soaks into his clothing.

"Why the hell would you want it?"

"We were planning to use it as part of an exhibition exploring the boundary between life and death.

My collaborator may no longer be up for that after falling off a moving vehicle…

There's still plenty I can do with the flesh of a demigod. Give it to me."

"Never!"

The hand tries to pull the testicle away from Pyotr, but can't get a good grip on the smooth and slippery surface. The hand moves towards Pyotr's right hand.

"Let go of it, or I will make you let go."

"You can't make me do anything!"

The hand grabs the index finger of Pyotr's right hand, and bends it backward. There is no pain. It simply flexes and stretches until the fingertip touches the back of Pyotr's hand

"What the fuck!"

"You have nine more fingers."

The hand moves towards his middle finger. Pyotr begins to cry as it bends backward as easily as the other one.

“You can let go at any time.”

"PYOTR!"

Pavel approaches from behind the stretched man, running on all fours along the road. He is covered in blood and resembles a mixture between a gorilla, a wolf and a pig.

"Pavel! You're alive!"

"It'll take more than that to kill me!"

Pavel charges towards the stretched man, who calmly walks towards him. He is over six feet tall, but most of his height comes from his legs. His extended fingers reach down past his knees.

"I have no intention of killing you."

As Pavel's massive left arm swings down, it is effortlessly blocked by the stretched man's upraised right arm, Pavel's forearm limply bending in half.

"FUCK."

The stretched man shoves Pavel's face with his left hand, the flesh of Pavel's snout deforming like clay. He then kicks Pavel's knee with one foot, buckling and distorting his leg.

Pavel falls to the ground and rolls onto his back. The stretched man presses down one of his long feet onto Pavel's chest, leaving a deep imprint in his flesh.

"Stay down please.

I will come back to you later."

He turns back to face Pyotr.

"Hand over the organ, or I will turn you inside out.

I do not usually have the time for that.

But if you insist, I will make the extra effort."

"The organ?"

"Yes, I believe we already established which organ I am referring to.

I understand that it's been a long day for you, but I would rather not repeat myself unless necessary."

"If you're going to come all the way out here to take it, call it what it is."

"I'm sorry?"

"Tell me you can't wait to get your hands on my giant testicle.

Go on. Say it, you sick son of a bitch."

The stretched man looked confused.

"I really don't see why you want your last coherent words to be crass humor.

It is a lot less amusing than you think."

Pavel, still lying on the ground, sinks his teeth into the stretched man's ankle.

The flesh warps, but the stretched man still falls to the ground in a confused tangle of long limbs.

"FUCK YOU!"

Pavel rolls on top of the stretched man, jaws opening wider to tear chunks out of his neck and torso. Although his flesh deforms like clay, it still bleeds whenever small pieces are torn off.

“Get off me!”

The stretched man pushes Pavel’s shoulder away from him with one hand, folding Pavel’s spine backward as he uses his other arm to push himself up.

“It seems I underestimated you.”

Pavel continues to struggle, but the stretched man now stands over him, grabbing and twisting his flailing arms and legs.

“I will have to tie these limbs into a knot.”

Pyotr lets go of the testicle, grabs a tire iron from the chaotic mess inside the van, and approaches the stretched man from behind.

“Maybe I’ll even add a pretty bow?”

Pyotr slams the tire iron into the back of the stretched man’s bald head. The flesh deforms like soft clay.

“What?”

The stretched man’s head spins on his shoulders to face behind him. Pyotr strikes him in the eye with the tire iron.

“Damnit!”

Pyotr keeps swinging as the stretched man raises his arms to defend himself.

“DIE! DIE! DIE!”

Pavel forces himself up by breaking multiple bones in his own body, then leaps upon the stretched man, knocking him to the ground.

“Hit him while he’s down!”

The two of them beat and maul the stretched man until he becomes a bloody smear on the tarmac. The two men then continue attacking the vaguely human shape until it stops screaming.

“You think he’s dead now?”

"No idea. Looks like it.

I’m pretty sure this was the head…”

“You’re eating him?”

“Not swallowing. Just chewing.”

Pavel spits out blood, and rubbery pieces of flesh.

“What about the other one?”

“The corpse? It kept attacking me even after we both fell off the roof, so I tore it to pieces.”

“And that killed it?”

"I'm pretty sure it was already dead."

"You know what I mean. You made it… deader?"

"The pieces never stopped twitching.

But once they were too small to do anything, I came to find you."

"Good thing you did. He fucked up my fingers pretty bad."

"He fucked me up a lot worse."

“You seem to be recovering.”

Pavel winces, as his spine straightens with a series of cracks.

"The stuff I injected is really good for that. You should try some."

“I don’t think I should while driving.”

"You think we can still drive that wreck?"

"I can’t believe you got this piece of shit to work."

“Don’t talk about her that way!”

"Her?"

“I guess I’m pretty attached to this van now. Good thing I had spare tires.”

"And also me, to flip it back over."

"Good thing you take steroids!"

"It's a shame that sportscar drove off."

"Why?"

"Even after the crash, it would have been a lot faster than this."

"And you think the driver would be OK with that?

The car doesn't even have a steering wheel! Just her arm!"

"I'm good at talking to women.

I can be persuasive when I want to be."

"You never lack confidence."

"Thanks, Pyotr."

"That wasn't actually a compliment, Pavel."

"It still hasn't worn off?"

"It's only been a few hours.

I'm sure I'll get back to normal eventually."

"Pavel, I want to thank you for saving my ass back there."

"Of course I did. We're friends."

"I think we're more than that."

"What?"

"You're like a brother to me."

"That was the gayest thing I've ever heard."

"Says the man who injected himself with spunk!”

"What?”

"I mean, it is Orok’s ball…"

"It’s not spunk! It’s… er… masculine vitality?

Oh fuck, you’re right.”

"Don’t worry about it. Not many men get the honor of being Orok’s bitch."

“Fuck you!”

"I promise I’ll be a good uncle. If you get pregnant.”

"Fuck you! Wait… could that actually happen?"

“Probably not. You only had sex with him once.”

"This isn’t funny!"

“This is so fucking funny.”

"You tell anyone else about this, you’re dead, Orin."

“Pavel, that’s no way to speak to your best friend."

"Pyotr, that’s exactly how I speak to my best friend.

Don't you forget it.”

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