Off The Pages

Jennifer and her friends had retreated into the other dimension to regroup. Edward swore and paced around the compound. John and Raymond repaired the damaged equipment and worked while the rest pondered the turn of events. “Alright,” Jericho said, breaking the tension. “This fake Jesus is limited by the lack of imagination of the person who summoned him.”

The group followed this train of thought. “Right,” Annie agreed, stretching her arms out of habit. “But we figured that. What’s your point?”

“I think I know where you’re going with this,” Raymond said, chiming in. “Jack probably just thinks of Jesus as the son of God, the creator of the universe in human form, so he can do anything, but he isn’t working at maximum efficiency.”

“Right,” Jericho said, pointing. “Don’t you agree?” He turned to Jennifer.

Jennifer nodded. “First time I fought him,” she recalled, counting items on her fingers, “he didn’t know what I was going to do ahead of time, there were questions he couldn’t answer, and when I attacked his nervous system, it worked for a little bit.”

Jericho nodded. “And that leads me to believe that He himself might only have a slight grasp of his powers,” he added.

“What are you talking about?” Edward said.

“The fake Jesus thinks he’s Jesus,” Raymond replied.

Edward’s eyes shot left and right. “Uh, yeah,” he stated.

“No,” John cut in,” think about it. Think about it.”

“You’d think Jesus would know everything,” Jennifer answered. “If he knew everything, we couldn’t beat him. If he doesn’t, why not?”

“How could he know about modern society,” Annie asked, realization drawing itself on her face, “and not know some of the other things?”

“Because he’s based on a flawed, mortal, modern man,” John answered.

“Wait,” Raymond cried, alarm in his voice. “Couldn’t he be listening to us right now?”

“Could be,” Jericho said, “but I doubt it. Think. He doesn’t think he can lose.” He stood up and postured. “Think about the way he’s carried himself. Jack Hurst thinks of the Second Coming as what?” He pointed for effect. “A conqueror. He’s supposed to beat evil itself in a final climactic battle. If he thinks of himself that way, he doesn’t think he can lose.”

“Except,” Jennifer interjected, “he’s not the perfect Son of God, he’s a monster summoned by a man with superpowers.”

“Why can’t he just kill us from afar?” Annie asked, then immediately cringed, regretting asking it.

“He could,” Raymond answered. “But he will not, because he has to be seen defeating us. That’s the point; he needs an audience.”

“So, what do we do next?”

Edward’s question brought the somber mood back.

Jennifer stood up, deciding. “I’m going to suggest we spend the last week saving as many lives as possible,” she said. “The more lives we save, the more allies we get.”

“Also,” Annie noticed, “we saw how important speed was. We take out his big-name speedsters and heavy hitters as soon as possible.”

“That’s a great idea,” Jericho said. “We can use this opportunity to do two birds with one stone: we save lives and take out his generals. When the time comes, we want to fight just him.”

“Just him,” Edward agreed.

“We’re not going to be much good in the battle,” Raymond said, looking at John. “Let’s face it, our attack robots weren’t much help.”

“No, that’s a good point,” Jennifer said. “Use them to save lives.”

“So,” a familiar voice cried, stepping into the compound, “you kept me out of that last fight. What do I do?”

Everyone turned to Luther. “You,” Jericho said, extending a warm welcome, “are going to play what I believe to be the most important part.”

He looked at them. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“This may be a shot in the dark,” Raymond said, “but I’ve been looking over your data, and your empathy power, while not a great assault weapon, might be able to do some serious damage to Jack Hurst or the fake Jesus.” Before the question could be asked, he pulled up a tablet computer. “Your power is the highest on the hierarchy we’ve seen yet.”

“During the final battle,” Jericho said, “we need to get you close to Jack, and you’re going to hit him with every person he’s killed so far.”

Luther looked between the two. “Okay,” he agreed, nervously. “How do you want me to do it?”

“Make it slow,” Jericho uttered, fire in his voice. “Make it last. Make him experience every last second of it. Don’t give him any shortcuts, don’t summarize, don’t protect him from the pain and suffering. I want him to get every single drop of misery he’s caused in one giant heaping helping.”

The rocker’s mouth drew itself into an ‘O’ as he pondered the implications. “That’s…” he finally replied, “that’s going to be…” Words failed him.

“That’s going to be every bit of pain he deserves,” Jennifer said. “If fake Jesus is based on his mind, then breaking his mind should affect the summoned monster in some way.”

Jericho turned to leave. “I need a portal,” he said, steeling himself. “I’ve got to get back to Davis and Sam and see how they’re doing. They got a bunch of American government employees and special agents on their side in safety, but they’ve been tracking down remnants trapped in all sorts of places.”

“Go,” Jennifer stated. “We’ll take care of things elsewhere.”

The billionaire walked through the hole in reality.

I.

Davis Wilson and his boss teleported into the chamber. Several of the powers Jericho had gifted them were active in case they ported right into a trap. Faint candles lit the dark chamber, with the walls of stone echoing with each step. Down a hallway of stone, the faint smell of air freshener and essential oils wafted through the air as a feeble attempt to mask the odor of many people trapped for an extended period. Upon the first step into the chamber, a gun touched itself to the right temple of the younger special agent, and he could sense hundreds of sights trained on him.

“Wait!”

The cry came from a single female voice. A flashlight illuminated the two men. Sam Louis recognized the voice at once. Her gun lowered, revealing in the faint light graying hair with flecks of blonde still present, blue eyes wrapped in dark circles, and wrinkles reflecting long years. She holstered her pistol. “Brenda?” Sam said, arms wide.

“Hold it!” she shouted, stepping out of arm’s reach to reveal that hundreds of firearms still pointed at her. “You’re not with the preacher, are you?”

“Hell no!” Sam bellowed, miffed. “We’re the good guys!”

Lights came on, and at least a hundred people stood in squalor, in a cave, and there, off to the side, was a hallway beyond which waste was disposed. Dawning realization came over her and her expression brightened. “Holy shit!” she cried. “Sam?” She propelled forward and hugged him. Tears stained his shirt. “It’s been twenty days. We fended off a series of attacks, but we’ve run out of food and if we leave, they’ll find us.”

“How’s the situation with the false messiah?” one young agent cried.

“Bad,” Davis admitted, “but we have hope.” He extended his hand toward the woman. “Davis Wilson, FBI.”

“Brenda Jeffers, CIA,” she introduced. She wiped her face. “Holy shit, this is a fucking disaster.”

“You’re telling me,” Davis shot back. “Our allies just fought against the supers that worship the fake Jesus, and this would-be ‘savior’ gave a final declaration: a week from now, the final battle, in the Valley of Megiddo.”

One could almost feel the wave of horror wash over the group. “So,” Brenda uttered, agony in her voice, “this is the end.”

“Not if we have any damn thing to say about it,” Sam retorted. “How many people do we have here that are willing to fight?”

“Fight?” A man cried. “You fuckin’ crazy?”

“No.” Davis said, stepping forward. “I mean it. This is it. If we fail, that’s the end.” He gestured to them all. “All of you, all of us, we’re all government agents. We swore an oath to defend the constitution.” He scanned the room and saw many different ages and ethnicities. “We all started out, having heard about the evil shit our government did. We all swore we were going to be different. We all decided we weren’t going to be the statistic, right? Right?” Some guilty faces greeted him. “All of us had to get our hands dirty, either directly, or by watching our agency partake in imperialism and racism and continuing to support it. This may be our one single chance to actually be the heroes for once. This may be our one shot to genuinely make the world a better place. This could be our only shot at making America live up to the idea that America was supposed to have been founded upon.” He paused. “I sure as hell am going to take that shot. Aren’t you?”

As he looked around, he saw every emotion from despair to horror to hope and back again. Eyes looked bloodshot with fear and stress. Their sense of heroism had been crushed so far down they didn’t know if they still had it. “We aren’t warriors,” Brenda admitted.

“We ain’t got to be,” Sam cut in. “We just got to be there.”

Davis nodded. “That’s right,” he added. “Sort out the details later. Right now, we have to provide support.”

“Imagine what I went through,” Sam explained. “I had to organize the looking into of this black magic fuckery right out of children’s funny books. We spent eighty-hour weeks turning over every leaf and stone.” He let out a huff. “I thought I was going nuts. I don’t trust people. And yet, I found myself trusting people I thought were a threat at first.” He scanned the group. “The least we can do is help them.”

Nervous talk provided a background noise. “I guarantee you won’t be going into battle unarmed,” Davis said. A din of approval started to form.

“What do we do?” Brenda asked.

“Just a second,” Davis said. He teleported. He returned a half a minute later. “Join hands.” He turned to the group. “Everybody, form a long chain.” After a bit of wrangling, everybody formed one long chain of hands. As soon as the last hands touched, they vanished from the chamber.

A large complex of buildings surrounded by snow and on one side by mountains became the first sight they saw upon reappearing. Some of the agents saw wildlife and recognized it as northern Canada. “Why are we here?” someone asked.

“Because of me,” Jericho said, emerging from the group of interconnected cabins.

Brenda stepped forward, greeting the billionaire, and looking him up and down. “What happens now?” she asked.

“Keep your hands joined,” he explained. “I don’t have time to explain.” He grabbed the first hand, and in an instant, everyone was up to speed, and had several new powers. “We’ve got this place stocked. Get everyone a shower, get everyone fed, and then get going.” He vanished.

Relief came over many as their newfound regeneration undid the weeks of tiredness. They piled into the cabins and made their ways towards the shower rooms or the kitchen areas. Davis turned to his elder. “So, boss,” he asked, “what’s the plan?”

Sam glared at him. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m not taking point on this one. You tell me what the plan is.”

Davis took in the vote of confidence. “Alright,” he said, “We’re going to form into teams and take down certain members of the enemy entourage. We target those who committed acts of terror against humanity on behalf of Jack Hurst.” He smiled. “But first, let them get relief.”

II.

A pile of bodies burned in a pit outside a church in Kentucky. Half the roof was gone, pews in various states of wreckage lay strewn across two acres of land, a wall had a huge hole in it, and inside, a group of supers sat playing cards. They’d arrived, and the churchgoers had refused adamantly to accept their Lord, and as such, had received judgment. Some of their ranks had gone super, and the fight had raged for ten minutes. They currently sat waiting for the police to bring them more souls to be judged.

The man standing watch saw a man appear out of thin air. Before he had a chance to act, a white-hot plasma ball burned a six-inch crater where his heart had been. “What the fuck!” someone inside shouted.

Twenty men appeared on all sides and started firing. One super turned his skin metallic and launched himself at the man in front. A bolt of lightning struck him in the chest and launched him into a group of his men. When four of the agents shot fireballs, a young man in a militia outfit kicked a pew into the path of the projectiles, and it exploded. He turned just in time to get thrown like a javelin into his allies. Three charged the agents as a group. The brutes attempted to smash through like a bowling ball, only to be struck by concentrated plasma fire and collapse in a burning heap.

“Your outmatched!” a female agent shouted. “Surrender!”

The remaining four kneeled with hands up. Two agents placed devices on the men, and they went into stasis.

“Derrick,” the female agent said, “take them to storage. We’ve got to clear the area.” The agents holding the attackers called a portal and took them through.

Ten agents teleported to high positions in the trees and got a good view of the area. Local police were patrolling the vicinity and rounding up anyone they found. A chunk of the population had been found already.

“Calling D115,” the dispatcher said over the radio on the Crown Victoria police cruiser parked by the edge of a dirt road leading to a farm.

The officer and his partner prepared to answer the call, when strong hands grasped their neck, and glowing hands crackling with raw power sat in their line of sight. “Answer that call,” an agent cried, “and I’ll burn your skull like a cigarette.”

The officers looked and saw their car surrounded. “We’re just followin’ orders,” he offered.

“We know,” the agent replied, “and that’s the problem.”

An older agent sat on the hood. “You’re going to tell us everything you and all your buddies have been up to,” he commanded.

Five minutes later, the team had found six supers hidden in the woods and several families that had gone into hiding.

“Shh,” a younger agent said, consoling the young teen, hiding behind the tree and shivering. “We took care of the police that wanted to hurt you.”

“They killed my momma!” the teenage boy cried. “I’m all alone! Those men worship that evil thing!”

A few tense moments of distrust passed, and then they embraced. The now-orphaned boy cried into the man’s shirt. “Would you like to help us stop the false messiah?” he asked the boy.

The boy’s fear gave way to pure rage. “I sure would,” the boy uttered.

With their ranks increasing, and enemies being either killed or paused and put in storage, they cleared an entire county of enemy activity by the end of the day.

A base of enemy supers had formed in an old recreational center in Cincinnati. The former gym had seen better days, but its use had been turned over to no less than fifteen members of a group that had declared loyalty to their Lord. The city had largely descended into chaos, with the police and government officially cracking down on any non-loyal activity. S.W.A.T. teams had gone into homes and extracted loyalty at gunpoint, and where some family had a super unwilling to accept their Jesus as the Lord and Savior, the group of faithful supers had been brought in to bring about judgment. Most of the legitimate businesses had bent the knee, only to quickly find many of their members unwilling to go along with it. Still, a great many people turned loyalist simply to avoid being executed.

“Now that our Lord has declared the date of the final battle,” the ‘pastor’ of the group said, “we will soon be joining…”

A white-hot ball overlapped with his head for just an instant before the smell of cooking flesh and searing fat filled the room. His head popped like a bubble an instant later.

The group turned to see no fewer than fifty agents standing around them. “Surrender and live!” a female agent shouted.

“Fuck you!”

The man who let out the shout launched forward as the circle of agents shot towards the group and bodies collided. The result resembled a shockwave through a pile of straw. Fists met faces in a storm of loud bangs. Screams echoed as plasma scorched limbs. Five minutes later, a pile of writhing, injured bodies sat in the center of the room. “Tag ’em and bag ’em,” the female agent shouted, “then get back here and help us.”

The rest of the city wasn’t as difficult. The base of enemy supers had been the largest collection in one spot. The rest of the city had loners patrolling in search of a quick judgment. In each case, the use of overwhelming numbers had proven the trick.

“We’re only getting the small fry,” one agent said to his colleague.

“Yeah?” he noted. “Well, there’s more of them, so we’re still doing a service.”

“I guess that’s good, then.”

John stood in the first of many storage buildings they’d set up. Groups of enemies had been coming in since the previous morning. The teams of agents had been scouring the country in groups taking down supers loyal to the enemy and gathering allies. They didn’t take risks; they simply found the targets they could overwhelm and did so. The largest group of allies came in the form of suffering young people either orphaned by the enemy or having seen friends killed for refusing to serve a tyrant. Their collective anger had been channeled into taking down the enemy. Each one was given all they needed to get comfortable, and then the option to fight back if they wanted. None of it was mandatory.

These poor bastards have suffered enough, John thought, as he saw the latest group of refugee supers brought in to take a shower and get a good meal. “How’s it going?” he asked, as the agents brought in some more paused enemies to be brought to their cages.

“We’ve been hunting,” Brenda said. “I know you guys are the main force, but we want to make it easier.”

“Believe me,” John said, relief in his voice, “we’ll take what we can get.” He pointed. “Put the baddies over there.”

“Are they frozen?” she asked.

“Just paused,” John explained. “Stasis. Once we’re done, we can unpause them. Right now, though, we need to make sure they can’t act.”

“Can we win?”

They both turned to the younger agent behind her. John gave him a serious look. “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I have to believe there are cracks in this fake Jesus’ armor. We’re going to find it.”

A thought came to her. “How can he kill an entire nation,” she asked, “and not take you guys out remotely?”

“He probably can,” John explained, “but like we said, that’s not what he wants. He wants an audience. This monster is based on Jack Hurst’s thoughts, and the man’s too lost in his faith to see the inconsistencies.”

“That’s messed up,” she stated.

“Guys,” Davis said, stepping in. “We just got our best chance yet.”

They turned. “What?” John asked.

“We might have a chance to get August Dietrich,” Davis explained.

John looked over at Raymond. They both shared an expression. “Okay,” John said. “Tell me what you need.”

“I want to talk to the group and see what they think,” Davis said.

A moment later, he vanished inside a portal.

III.

“No, I think it’s a trap,” Jennifer said, shaking her head.

Edward folded his arms. “I think I can do it,” he said.

“But you’re not likely to get the element of surprise,” Raymond advised.

“Dave, what did you see?”

The agent pondered Edward’s question. “They were picking off individual targets,” he said. “We saw it from a distance, but it looked like he was finding the ‘hard to reach’ supers who were good at hiding.”

“He didn’t have any speedsters?” Edward asked. Davis shook his head. “Then I can take him.” He saw the look on his friend’s face. “Are you about to tell me I can’t do it?”

“No,” Jennifer replied, “I just don’t want you to get killed.”

“This guy is one of Jack’s heavy hitters,” Edward replied. “We don’t want him present at the final battle.”

“Then you’re sure?” Jericho asked. “You want to do this?”

“You guys have other targets to get,” Edward advised. “Leave this one to me.”

“Alright,” Annie cut in, “but you be safe, okay?”

Edward let out a huff. “Nobody’s safe until this is all over,” he stated.

A portal opened up and the swordsman and the agent stepped through. They gathered a group of their allies to go with them and stepped through a second portal and stood several miles away from where the telekinetic stood, searching through the hidden cellars and underground bunkers with his powers. Bodies lie along a trail, obviously belonging to those refusing to serve the monster. A dozen or so allies followed him, protected by forcefields. A city lay off in the distance beyond the group of enemies.

“We have to be careful of civilians he might use as hostages,” Davis advised.

“I know,” Edward agreed, taking soft steps. The agents spread out cautiously.

Edward felt a strange sensation on the back of his neck. His eyes went wide.

The agent standing in front of Davis and him exploded in a burst of gore and dirt as a spherical area combusted under telekinetic pressure. He jumped into the air, grabbing his ally by the belt and hoisting him up, just short of the attack.

“You didn’t really believe you were getting the element of surprise,” August said, hovering close by. “I knew you were coming.”

“You didn’t bring any speedsters?” Edward remarked, pulling backward and drawing his katana. “Either you didn’t have any or you underestimate me.”

“We noticed your group taking our forces off the table,” August explained. A half-sneer emerged. “No big deal. The Lord can’t be beaten, so killing our men won’t matter.”

“Then,” Brenda asked, calling upon her plasma, “why do this at all?”

“One does what the Lord asks him to do,” August said.

With a thought, a group of supers shot out of the ground, protected by force fields. Agents flung plasma bolts that crackled against shields and fizzled out. Edward slashed with his blade, shooting a curved beam of light through the air. The telekinetic hoisted upward and grabbed several of his allies, but an unlucky bunch got caught in the tail end. Their bubbles popped and the agents immediately started raining plasma on them. Bodies got launched into the dirt and rocks. Agents pushed their way past and collided in a whirl of projectiles, fists, and feet as they engaged the other supers. August went to assist his allies, but an arc of power cut through his shield and burnt his leg, forcing him to focus on Edward.

The psychic landed and drew rocks into the air. “Okay,” he said, “you’re good. But you’ll never defeat the Lord!”

“You got healed only to die here!” Edward shouted, slashing forward and cutting a supersonic projectile into dust with his blade, as blue pulses of energy traveled up its edge. He bounced backward just as a foot-wide section of Earth exploded where he’d been standing. After cutting a large rock cut into a point, he dropped into a sword fighting stance.

August lifted over a curve of light that scorched where he’d been standing, and landed, hands up and ready to launch shockwaves. The swordsman shot his head to the left just as a shockwave shot past. He slashed upward towards his foe’s exposed arm, but the psychic pulled it back and shot an invisible blast at the lower torso. Edward rolled to the side and brought his blade up just as his foe brought his hand down.

Electricity sparked off the blade as the pulsing power dispersed the telekinetic force ricocheting off it. Edward shot to his feet and threw his blade forward to stab, only for August to pull his torso back and throw a battering ram of an impact into the swordsman’s chest. The psychic saw his foe bounce off dirt, throwing a cloud into the air, followed by a crash as a large rock broke the flight. Edward’s eyes went wide, and he shot to his right just before the boulder exploded into pebbles. He dashed and ducked, invisible shockwaves shooting right past him. He turned and ran straight for his foe. August smirked and shot kinetic blasts outward, only to see Edward weave between them. The swordsman saw a hand shoot out and he ducked to the side and slashed upward.

August pulled back just as a blade shot up where his torso had been moments before. The light curving off the blade cut through his shield and delivered a nasty slice to his chest and up to his right shoulder. The attack left his foe vulnerable, and he hit the man with the force of a truck crash right in his chest.

Edward shot to his feet, spat blood from his mouth, and drew his katana into a fighting stance. “You’re enjoying this,” he remarked.

“I am enjoying this,” August replied. “You’re no weakling. That means if I kill you, I’m taking out one of Satan’s top generals! This is a great day for me!” With telekinesis, he staunched the blood from the cut on his wound.

Edward blinked and took a deep breath. He shot forward and slashed upward, the curved light shooting through the air from his attack. August shot several kinetic blasts, which dulled the attack slightly, though it still crashed into his forcefield. The bubble crackled as the beam struck it, leaving a wide-open gash. August sneered in delight as he dodged sword strikes. The blue light travelling up and down the blade sparked as it cut through forcefield. Each slash left a gash, until the entire bubble popped. The swordsman became frustrated as he could not cut his foe. A shockwave caught Ed’s leg, stumbling him. He then caught a kinetic blast to the chest, throwing him into the dirt, cutting a three-foot-wide gash in the Earth with his body. At the end of his ride, he blinked then shot into the air just before a huge dirt cloud formed when the ground exploded where he’d been.

August shot kinetic blasts upward, but Edward spiraled through the air and landed behind his foe in a heartbeat and spun while slashing. The psychic, not having time to turn, threw up a shield to protect his back, but the sword cut mostly through it, slicing into flesh, and throwing a spurt of blood into the air.

“YAAAHH!” August shrieked, surveying the damage and staunching the bleeding with his powers. “ERrrrgh.” He smashed Edward down into the dirt, the knocked him into the air, before holding him there and pelting him with kinetic strikes. A last battering ram then threw the prone man into a tree, cracking it in half. Ed hit the dirt with a sputtering gasp. It’s not a serious blow, August thought, holding his wound shut. If he’d gotten any closer, he might have done worse than a flesh wound.

Edward scrambled to his feet, coughing up blood and fluid. He wiped his mouth. “What’s wrong?” he chided.

“I think the fun is over,” August remarked, “I’ve been letting you off too easy. Not anymore.”

Edward leapt backward in anticipation of a strike. Instead, a kinetic wave hit him in the back, launching him forward. An invisible force began crushing his neck as he lifted upward. His sword clattered to the ground.

“Don’t you…!” Edward croaked, as he struggled to regain some control.

“Are you begging?” August mocked. He shook his head, squeezing. “You’re going to die for your service to Satan!”

At Ed’s mental command, the sword returned to its sheath. Blue and purple energy began to swirl around the blade and glow around the hilt. He built up the pressure and reached, only for a telekinetic barrier to grasp his arm mid-reach. As he gagged and coughed up blood, he pulled against the bonds. No! Edward thought. I can’t die here!

The blade sent a pulse of light from his hip up through his body, until it reached his right arm. Power pulsed through him, and he mustered every ounce of strength the character had. August gasped as he felt the psychic barrier moving. You won’t win! He thought, tightening his grip.

Edward’s lungs began to burn as he pushed his arm, inches away from the blade hilt. As pressure on his arm increased, he pulled with ever burning anger. His chest ached and his arm screamed pain at him. “Why won’t you just accept your judgment like a man!” August shouted, as blood began to trickle from his nose.

The tip of an index finger touched the hilt. A blue pulse traveled from the blade through his arm, and the barrier around his arm shattered. Wrapping his right hand around the blade’s hilt, his entire body glowed and pulsed with the near violet light. His hair stood up as electricity arced off him.

August squinted, before marshalling all his telekinetic force, and shooting it outward in one gigantic shockwave. Edward saw space distort in front of him. With one swift motion, he drew his blade and slashed upward and to the right. Air exploded in a mighty clap of thunder from the heat rolling off the boomerang shape of light that shot out.

The distorted kinetic wave impacted the curved attack and rolled off like waves against a ship, impacting the ground to the left and right of Edward. Massive explosions of dirt and gravel launched into the air. The swordsman’s attack continued, unabated.

“No!” August shouted. “This can’t…!”

The wave struck his forcefield, and like a brick sailing through a window, continued. It struck him a blink later, and his torso above the waist flashed into steam and then plasma in less than a second.

Edward collapsed to the ground, coughing. He saw a pair of legs that used to be a person harmlessly fall to the dirt.

Over a dozen enemy supers turned at the sight of an apparent second sun emerging about fifty feet from them and vanishing a moment later. Forcefields protecting them popped like soap bubbles, and the bedlam proceeded from there. Plasma shots and strong fists and feet crashed into bodies. Five minutes later, they had seven corpses and six surrendering supers locked in stasis.

“Hey,” Davis said, spitting blood on the ground, “wanna lock some assholes up?”

“I do,” Edward said, wiping his face.

Jack Hurst looked over and saw his Lord close his eyes in prayer. “My Lord, what troubles you?” he asked, rising from his seat on the plane.

“One of our faithful has gone to his final reward,” the Lord spoke. He shook his head. “No matter; we will not falter.”

Jack knelt by his Lord and closed his eyes a moment, for a silent prayer. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he asked, “but shouldn’t we stop giving them more time?”

“I understand your concern, my child,” the Lord spoke, “however, we want to bring all our enemies to bear at once. We must demonstrate to the world our victory.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Jack replied. “I will not falter.”

“Your fear and uncertainty are normal,” the Lord stated. “Just put your faith in me.”

He nodded and returned to his seat. His Lord’s holiness washed over him like cooling rain on a hot day. The concern and confusion in his heart vanished with a single assurance from his Lord. Soon, he knew, all the children of the world would receive the message as the enemies serving the Devil would be defeated.