I closed the garage. It was a damned cold night out and the cars would have looked intimidating to a man less experienced than I was.
In a way, I was more intimidated, not less. My old bones creak. I know the dangers. A younger man could get lucky.
A car pulled up and I held my breath for a second. A thin man in a suit, heavy coat, and a fedora stepped out. He pulled a cane from the car and shuffled to me.
“What is it, Peter? Surely not a social call,” I sputtered. “Come to do me in finally?”
“No, Mark. We’re on the same side this time, I think.”
I scowled. “How could we ever—”
“There’s not much time, old friend. The man upstairs has decided it’s time.”
I swore. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. Get in the car. I have the syndicate and the power troops patched in.”
I didn’t have much to lose anymore. I got in the car. My old nemesis hadn’t lied.
God had finally decided to start the apocalypse.
There was only one thing Peter and I had ever agreed on. There was only one thing a villain and a hero could always agree on.
If God ever decided to make good on his promise, we’d do everything in our power to stop him.
And we would.
#69
No comments:
Post a Comment