"I'm done," Van Helsing declared as he lowered himself to the stone steps of the church. He set his crossbow aside and pushed his hat back onto his head.
Carl shuffled up to the base of the stairs. "You mean for the day, of course," he commented.
Van Helsing shook his head. "No. I mean for good. I'm done. I can't keep doing this."
"No, Carl. I'm exhausted. I don't care how good the fight is. How important it is. How much the Order needs me. I'm done."
"There is more fight..."
Van Helsing sighed heavily. "I know. There's always more. But what no one seems to understand is that immortal doesn't mean invulnerable.
Maybe this won't kill me, but it sure as hell makes me wish it could some days."
"Surely you don't mean that."
Another sigh. "Carl, I have broken bones that you can't see. I have gashes and cuts that will heal soon enough, but that doesn't mean they don't hurt.
Each time I face something new, it's a new set of bone-crushing injuries. And I never get downtime. There's never a break.
I get back to Rome and I have to turn around and do it all over again. So, I quit."
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