Church of the Last Rebellion

The government agents dressed in their suits were at least polite enough to wait until mass concluded and the last of my parishioners drove home before taking me in for questioning. Two of them came in first, showed me their badges and paperwork, and I followed them out to their car. I sat in the backseat for twenty minutes until the rest of their team swept through my church, grabbing everything they could fit into the boxes they brought. Amusing as it should've taken only one minute to pick up the box I already filled for their investigation. I'd known this day would be coming, after all, ever since the first demon appeared on Earth.

Finally finished, we drove off in a convoy of five black, non-descript sedans to a large, beige, non-descript building. Once inside, they marched me into a plain white room, empty except for a table, three chairs, and a large glass window along one wall.

"Father Alvarez," the lead agent said, again flashing his badge, "for formality's sake, I will re-introduce myself. I am Agent Woods from the FBI, and this is Agent Blair. As we said earlier at your church, we have questions to ask you about the... the... " I glanced nervously around the room, as if expecting something to jump out at any moment.

I smiled. "Demons. You can say demons, my child, for that is what they are. No more a slur against their kind than to call you or I 'humans'. And no, just saying the word will not summon them to you, as you might suspect."

"Yes, the demons. I will first like to say that your small church in the middle of nowhere has been under FBI surveillance on and off even before you were chosen to lead your congregation. Of course, we've never found anything to suggest ties to any sort of anti-government teachings that seem prevalent in other small religious groups."

I smiled the same smile I use when the youngsters confess to things like lying to their parents or masturbating as if it should be the most monumental confession I'd ever heard. "I'm not surprised at all. It's the name, isn't it? The Church of the Last Rebellion. I assure you that we merely prepare our flock for the next life, seeking to free our eternal souls from the constraints of the afterlife." I placed my elbows upon the table, leaning in and resting my chin upon my steepled fingertips. "Gentlemen, if we may skip whatever this is. You want to know why some of the demons bare the symbol of my church?"

Agent Woods sighed and opened a bag, laying folders onto the table. Another agent came in with the box I'd prepared and placed it onto the floor. Agent Woods opened each folder in turn to reveal a pictures of demons of all shapes and sizes, some taken candidly, some posed for. All of them though bearing the marking of my church carved into their skin. "Could you tell us anything about this demonic invasion and what links your church has to it?"

It was my turn to let out a sigh. "Exodus, not 'invasion' as you incorrectly stated." The agents just stared blankly back at me. "Demons were the first creatures of Hell. After The Fall, Lucifer and the other fallen angels put them to work torturing human souls that ended up in their realm. A fate which our church actively preaches against, seeking to free ourselves from tortures based on rules we never formally understood or agreed upon. Rules set upon us by those long dead, decayed, and forgotten."

Agent Blair stood from his chair and jabbed a finger at the pictures. "We didn't bring you here for a sermon, Father. We want answers. Why are the demons leaving hell? Why is the symbol of your church carved into their skin?"

I smiled and reached slowly into the box, pulling out a tablet. I swiped the screen a few times and then flipped the screen to show the same marking carved into a block of wood. "What you are looking at is the mark of the Church of the Last Rebellion carved by Sarah Smith, deceased 1935. Notice the small cross-hatching on the left-side of the sword, giving it a shading affect. Notes left behind by my predecessor say that she was smart, quick-witted, and an ardent follower of the Church." I swiped the tablet again and pointed to two of the pictures in the middle of the table. "These were carved by Xavier Marquez, deceased 1995. You can see it in the minimal lines used to indicate the shield in the background." I looked at the pictures on the right. "These I don't recognize meaning one of our followers must have taught it to another soul."

The two agents stared blankly again. "When you preach rebellion against the forces that terrorize your soul, we believed eventually someone from the other side would attempt to contact us. What we are seeing now authenticates that," I said.

It was Agent Woods' turn to lean forward with steepled fingers. "And what is it we're seeing?"

"Another regime change I suspect. That the markings are carved into their skin means that Ms. Smith and others have gotten their hands on tools or weapons, something no prisoner should have access to. That the demons arrive covered in ice means the torturous fires of Hell are being extinguished, no longer being maintained, as Lucifer is no longer focusing his efforts on punishing evil souls but fighting a rebellion against them within his realm."

The two agents talked amongst themselves for the next hour, comparing the pictures in my tablet to the ones that they took themselves, occasionally asking me a question on a particular marking or my contact with a certain deceased parishioner. "If that is all you needed from me, may I go now? It is quite late," I asked with a yawn.

It is Agent Woods' turn to smile the So-I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know smile. "I see, so one of them hasn't come to visit you?" he said, standing up. Agent Blair stood with him. I heard the click of the lock and the door swung open. "If you'll follow me please."

I stood and followed the two agents out the door and down the stairs. Then down another flight of stairs. And then another flight of stairs. We came to an elevator with two armed guards on either side of the door. When it opened, two more stood inside. The three of us joined the two guards inside. Agents Woods and Blair scanned their IDs into two pads and the elevator dropped. We stood in silence for five minutes as the elevator took us deeper underground.

The doors opened to darkness. An emptiness stood before us, it's edges barely brushed back by the light coming from inside the elevator. Agents Woods and Blair, and I stepped out and the doors shut, leaving us blind. Once I heard the elevator begin to ascend, lights snapped on, blinding me for an instant.

It was a small room, small enough that I could easily fly a paper airplane from one end to the other. Red runes and symbols covered every inch of the white room, from the floor to the ceiling. The stench of blood clogged my nostrils and made me want to vomit. In the very center of the room was what I can only describe as the most beautiful ... person I'd ever seen. Perfectly symmetrical facial features so exact they must have been sculpted. Piercing eyes that gazed right into me. Long full hair hung down to its shoulders. Staining this vision of beauty were several scars cut into its slim but strong genderless body, including the symbol of the Church of the Last Rebellion, carved by the hand of Sarah Smith herself. The angel hung in place, nailed through its palms to a wooden cross.

Agent Woods broke my trance with a loud cough. "This one turned up on Earth two days ago. You said the demons were leaving Hell because of a regime change, that your followers were seeking to overthrow Lucifer. Can you tell us what this means?"

I laughed. Not a short "Hah" or a chuckle, but a loud, long, riotous, cannonball-into-the-deep-end-of-madness laugh. Minutes passed, if not a whole day, before I stopped. The smile never left my face as I preached. "It appears as if our rebellion has gone further than expected in such a short amount of time. As I said earlier, The Church of the Last Rebellion seeks to free our souls from restraints. That freedom doesn't stop with the tortures of Hell, but all the way to the gilded cage of paradise promised by God. It means that our rebellion has moved against God himself."

As quick as I could, I grabbed Agent Woods by the coat and shoved him aside. As expected from the arrogant Agent Blair, he responded by drawing his pistol. I grabbed it with one hand, striking his throat and then his wrists with my free hand. Blair backed away, gagging. I flipped the pistol and positioned the barrel to the side of my head. "And now gentlemen, it is time for me to join my flock in our great rebellion," I said, pulling the trigger.

 

Based off of the Reddit Writing Prompt: (paraphrasing) "Demons appear on Earth, but it isn't an invasion, they are just a misplaced populace as Hell has frozen over" or something like that. It's an old prompt and I'm a slow writer. When I saw this one, I immediately knew that I needed to write something for it just to finish what appears to sort-of connect (if I went back and ret-conned a couple things) The Church of the Last Rebellion trilogy. Sometime last year, I wrote "Jailbreak" about a group of renegade souls attempting a coup in Heaven. Then, later on I found a prompt that inspired me to write "You go to Hell but it isn't that Bad" about a group of souls working to overthrow the devil in Hell. So when this prompt appeared, I figured I should write something to kind of fit it all together, why they are doing this and all that.

Books of 2021: January

Expecting this year to be another one filled with more free time that I'll waste with my face buried in a book, I decided to start my reading list early instead of writing it all out once every three months like I've been doing. And if you saw through that lie and know I'm writing this now because I haven't finished either of the two now three new stories that I started writing for my recurring goal of weekly posting (the reason I always have multiple notebooks) then stop ruining the illusion that I'm a somewhat competent writer for everyone else (nobody should believe that anyways). Back to a more professional introduction, here's two books and three comics that I read so far. I know it says January in the title, but technically I finished the last one on February 5th. I'm a slow writer, so I'm going to count it.

Monster Hunter Vendetta by Larry Correia

"We had three members of Monster Hunter International hiding in the brush, one in the decoy car, two more on the rapidly approaching attack helicopter, carefully positioned claymores along the roadside, piles of guns, thousands of rounds of ammo, state of the art night-vision and thermal-imaging equipment, a lot of attitude, and a general dislike of evil beasties.
     I keyed my microphone.
     "Execute."
     My name is Owen Zastava Pitt and I kill monsters of a living."

Business is good for Owen Pitt and the rest of Monster Hunter International, hunting down monster bounties for world governments and private contractors. Unfortunately for Pitt, the Old Ones that he held off from invading the Earth last year have not forgotten about him, and Pitt finds a bounty placed on his own head. With a necromancer and his cult pursing him as well as a traitor within Monster Hunter International, can Pitt and his team survive long enough to put a stop to the end of life on Earth, again?

This is book number two of the Monster Hunter International (I think I read the first book two years ago). Anyone who watches monster movies and says to themselves, "Oh, they should've done this instead" or "They should've used these weapons instead" should really look into this series. Also, if you don't care too much for the fantastical elements and prefer your monsters put down through real-world means, because that's how Monster Hunter International does business: Find monster, fill with holes. Plus, all the weapons (so far at least) are real world weapons: sub-machine guns, Saiga shotguns, Spyderco knives, etc - things that add a sense of reality to the story. The books are a little on the longer side. Typically it would've taken me all month, but, you know, free-time, I got through in a couple of weeks. It's an easy read with plenty of action to keep the story moving along. It basically reads like an action movie and I'd love to see it get adapted in some way for tv or movies.

The Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba

Sir Reginald Hargreeves adopted seven children all born mysteriously on the same day at the exact same time to women who weren't pregnant the day before. When asked why, he just responded, "To save the world." The children developed superpowers and formed The Umbrella Academy. This story takes place thirty years later, after the team fell apart and went their separate ways. The children have reunited to mourn the death of their adoptive father, and now face a threat from one of their own.

The first collected volume (issues 1-6) of the Umbrella Academy series. I'm still not sure how I found out about this series all those years ago. Did I see it in the comic book store, pick it up, and then figure out who the writer was? Or did I find out that Way was writing a comic book and, listening to a lot of My Chemical Romance back in the day, decide to buy the book? In case you're wondering, I did finish the first two seasons of The Umbrella Academy on Netflix last month. I meant to re-read the comics first but never found the time. I'm glad I didn't so I could enjoy the tv show for what it was without comparing it to the comic like I did in the beginning when watching The Magicians on Syfy. The comic books read much more like a comic book should: battles against killer robots, zombie architects, and a deranged symphony. Also, yes, I know it is a comic book and I should comment on the artwork in someway, but I'm not good at art so my opinion on the matter is worthless. That said, the drawings aren't as ... crap what's a good word ... "clean" maybe? I'll go with that. It isn't as clean as your standard Marvel or DC comics (or at least the ones that I've read), but I like it, the way that it's drawn appeals to me, it's different in an exciting way. Also, as a side note that has nothing to do with the comic: I've been reading these comics only at home because I'm reading a more serious book (which I'll get to) during my lunch breaks and these provide a lighter relief from the subject when I'm home. Plus I'd rather not explain comic books to my coworkers (I got enough questions about Kpop when they saw my Twice calendar).

The Umbrella Academy: Dallas by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba

Each member of The Umbrella Academy is coping with the aftermath of the previous events in their own way when Number Five ("The Boy") finds himself hunted by, basically, the time police. More is revealed about how The Boy got back to the present day after jumping himself into the future, three of the brothers spend time in Vietnam, and the team prevents the end of the world.

If you're familiar with the Netflix show, this would be the second season when they all get stuck in the past. Obviously there are differences  as there are things that you can draw in comics that you can't quite bring to life for the tv screen, such as a crazed Abraham Lincoln monument coming to life only to be assassinated by an equally enormous John Wilkes Booth. Hazel and Cha-Cha more deranged killers than efficient, middle-level assassins portrayed in the show. Usually I'm not a fan of time-travel stories because time-travel typically implies that you can always go back and fix everything to your liking. I found this story to be a relief from those types in that, yes, everything does end up the same way it is supposed to happen in history, but the journey to make sure everything does end up that way, that really was the best part of it all. Spoiler: It doesn't happen like the show.

Umbrella Academy: Hotel Oblivion by Gerard Way and Gabriel Ba

 

The Umbrella Academy uncovers the pocket dimension their father, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, used to imprison some of their most dangerous enemies. Unfortunately, the Hotel Oblivion has been breached and the villains are on the loose. It's up to the Umbrella Academy to unite once again and stop the villains. At the same time, Vanya is on her own storyline, coming to terms not only with what she did but also with who she is and her place within the Academy.

This was my favorite volume of the three! It had everything I expect from superhero comics: action, mysteries, crazy superpowers but with Way and Ba's crazy twists to them. The art is as good as ever, and after reading some of the behind the scenes notes, it's amazing what Ba did in regards to both Way's specific vision and on the parts he improvised. Way doesn't disappoint in the writing, not only with the story of Hotel Oblivion but with the cast of characters too (both main characters and especially the side/ background characters). The ending (if you've watched the Netflix show, it's what I think what this is in the last scene) sets this up for more issues and I can't wait to read them.

Draft No. 4 On the Writing Process by John McPhee

"You are working on a first draft and small wonder you're unhappy. If you lack confidence in setting one word after another and sense that you are stuck in a place from which you will never be set free, if you feel sure that you will never make it and were not cut out to do this, if your prose seems stillborn and you completely lack confidence, you must be a writer. If you say you see things differently and describe your efforts positively, if you tell people that you "just love to write," you may be delusional."

A collection of eight essays written by John McPhee on different stages of the writing process. McPhee is a staff writer for "The New Yorker" as well as teaches (taught) a class on writing at Princeton University. Essays include information on how to build the structure of your story so that the pieces flow just the way you want it; his relationship with editors and publishers throughout his career; how to get people to tell you things they wouldn't otherwise in an interview; and, my favorite, the trials that come with writing the first draft vs the joy of fixing that fourth draft.

Another book I'm not sure how I found. It's been sitting in my pile of books to read for years and I after an almost full year of lockdown and attempting (and failing) to spend that time writing more, I decided to look into it for inspiration. I'm still not sure what original prompted me to buy it, probably just on the title alone without doing any research into what this book actually was or who is John McPhee, and what kind of stories does he write. Apparently, McPhee is a non-fiction writer, submitting articles to "The New Yorker" and previously other publications, and teaches a writing class at Princeton University. When I first opened the book and got into the first essay, I almost stopped reading as it didn't seem to be thing for me, not what I expected at all. It was about connecting interviews to build pieces/profiles on the subject you're writing, I think. Like I said, I almost gave up during that chapter. It was the next chapter on structure (how to build a story using the pieces you've collected) that hooked me, made me think that even though McPhee spent his life doing a different kind of writing than the fiction writing I'm trying to do, these essays still have much in common and there's still lessons here that can be applied to my own writing. It was the essay "Draft No. 4" that was my favorite: Here McPhee talks about the drafting process, on how the first draft is the daunting task that actually takes up most of your time, how revision is spotting those minor details that take your story from good to great. I also enjoyed "Editors & Publisher" where McPhee talks about the relationships he's forged with the various editors and publisher he's worked with to get his stories published. And I know, I've said it many, many times: I still don't like to purchase hardcover books: they're heavier to carry around, they take up more room, they're more expensive. In this case, I'm glad that I got it in hardcover (I'm not even sure if it was published in paperback). It's a smaller, thinner book (not even 200 pages) so it doesn't take up as much room as other hardcovers I've bought, and, with as much as I hoped I learned from reading it, it just feels right that it's in hardcover when I hold it in my hands. I know, that's a weird thing to say, but it just feels more authentic when I open it up, than say with a flimsy paperback book.

Anyways, that's the books from the past month and 5 days. Maybe I'll do it again for February if I do the same amount of reading, or maybe I'll stop bothering people so much and go back to once every three months again.

The Pizza Delivery part 2

We climbed twenty flights of stairs, twenty stories, before she spoke again. "Bad news," she said. "Ground fighting moved back this way and unfortunately the flyers are still in combat above us." She opened the door and we found ourselves in an empty office filled with neatly lined cubicles and one phone that was still ringing. Seeing the confusion on my face, she gestured to the building next door. "I'm going to shatter this glass and drop you on that rooftop. The boards should still be in place so you can ride your bike across to the rooftops to the end of the street where the next Guide will get you. I'm going to join the flyers and try to draw everyone away from this area."

I shook my head. "Are you insane! You want me to not only ride my bike through a battlefield, but a battlefield several stories in the air. Besides why would they attack me? You said everyone agreed The Routes should be like a safe zone or something."

"The Routes change every week and so do the Guides. They won't know whose side you're on and either one might attack you." Seeing the fear on my face, she grabbed my shoulders. "No more time to argue. You're either going out that window and delivering those pizzas, or your trip stops here."

My hands shook. My whole body shook. Still, I took one, two breathes and steadied myself long enough to give her a nod. "I'm ready."

A shockwave shattered the glass, the pieces falling to the ground like a thousand deadly snowflakes. Sitting upon my bike, we soared into the air and landed gently on the next rooftop as planned. I started pedaling toward the next rooftop and the board connecting the two. As much as I wanted to see the new superhero in action, I knew I needed to get across and to the next checkpoint. I had a job to do, after all.

At the last rooftop, I found a locked fire escape door and nothing else. She said the next hero was supposed to be here but unless he was shaped like an empty beer bottle, there was nobody around. I swore again as explosions pressurized the air above me, almost knocking me to the ground.

As I panicked and pounded on the fire escape door, the fighting got closer. A heat ray ripped off a corner of the roof. A pair exchanged punches in mid-air and one of them came crashing down into the side of the building below me with his opponent following right behind.

Suddenly a green light enveloped my bike and I, and we began flying into the air. Whoa, a tractor beam, I thought, I wonder which hero is going to be my Guide this time. Robo-guard. The Mecha-man. Space Queen.

After another brilliant green flash, I opened my eyes to find myself seated on the floor of a command deck of a spaceship. In front of me, a giant screen showed the chaos outside as heroes battled villains. Around me, were monitors and control panels but no one sitting at them. A throat cleared behind me. "Welcome to The Dreadnought."

The Dreadnought. No one's ship was named that. At least none of the heroes had a ship named that. My eyes widened as I turned to find myself face to face with The Omega. He wore a black cloak and a black helmet covered his head. A chrome plate covered his face with a red stylized Omega symbol etched onto the front.

My heart pounded in my chest and my breath quickened. Instinctively I scurried away, sliding along the floor until my back pressed up against the floor to ceiling view screen. "Oh god, please don't kill me. I'm just trying to deliver some pizzas," I said while my brain started a running monologue apologizing for every bad thing I'd ever done in case this really was the last moment of my life.

"Stop this foolishness and give me your destination," boomed The Omega's deep bass voice as he took a couple steps closer.

My breathing slowed by a fraction, just enough to let me speak. "You're my Guide? But aren't you a villain?"

The Omega stopped, and even with his helmet on, I could feel his stare. Then he shrugged. "My goals are to establish a New World Order under my rule, not to murder lowly pizza boys. Besides, my new regime will require a lower class to fulfill my wishes and you blue collar drones would fill that role nicely." Suddenly he was in front of me, close enough for me to see my reflection in his helmet. "Now, your destination."

I gave him the address and he tapped a few keys on a console. As we started to move, I looked out to see the full-scale war still in front of us. "How are we going to get passed that?"

The Omega stood statue still with his head cocked, as if I'd just asked if water was wet. "Have you forgotten where you are, and who I am?" he said. He hit another key on a control pad and the world outside exploded in a brilliant, blinding flash. It made every death ray, missile strike, and energy blast up until now look like sparklers. When I was finally able to see again, the world outside appeared in just shades of gray as something like ashes settled on everything still standing. The only movement outside were the bodies falling to the ground.

"Are they dead?" I asked.

"They are out of the way," The Omega said and The Dreadnought floated right along above the buildings toward my destination.

We moved in silence for a minute or two before the eerie silence got to me. "So is that why you're helping me? To preserve slaves for your eventual takeover?"

The Omega turned to me. "Why I'm helping with The Routes? Yes. Why I'm helping you specifically?" He paused, staring at the view screen. Then, his reflective mask opened, revealing just an ordinary, middle-aged man underneath. "When Giovanoni said he had a protege brave enough to deliver pizzas in this madness, I knew I needed to see for myself. Plus I owed my former partner a favor."

My eyes widened. "Mr. Giovanoni was a supervillain?" I stammered.

The briefest of smiles crossed The Omega's face before his mask snapped shut again. "We're here," he said. Suddenly I was falling through the air in the same green light that brought me aboard The Dreadnought. I found myself outside the apartment building with minutes to spare.

 

From a Reddit Writing Prompt: In a world of superheroes and supervillains, you just want to deliver pizzas. I think there was more to the prompt as well, but I didn't care about that part. I mostly wanted to write this because I haven't had the chance to write a superhero story for a while, and why not start with one where the protagonist doesn't have any superpowers. The idea of superheros and supervillains sort-of working together kind of comes from "The Sovereignty" storyline I was working on years ago, but the idea of The Routes is new and I thought of it just for this. I had more ideas/ explanations on how The Routes worked that didn't make it into the story because, obviously, it would be even longer, and already at this length I needed to break it into 2 posts on Reddit. I broke it into two parts here because I expect most people to read this crap while taking a shit and I figure you can read about 200-300 words per minute, and if you're in the stall for a good 5-7 minute deuce, then this should be enough time. Another thing I meant to add was a beginning part where the main character was at the pizza shop. This was only going to be significant because I was going to have the novice superhero be another delivery person, the idea being that these types of jobs allow supers to walk away from a job shift without being fired. I also thought about writing it so that The Omega accompanied the main character to the door, mostly to threaten them when they didn't pay for the pizzas. I guess that's it for the story. Unfortunately for you, I've already got another story that I'm working on, as well as 2 other posts that are almost done (getting around to typing is so hard).

The Pizza Delivery part 1

This is bullshit, I thought to myself as I pedaled my bicycle across the remains of a warzone. Burning cars and rubble littered the streets. Paramedics trying to save the wounded. Firefighters pulling people from collapsed buildings. Officers working on evacuating people to safety. And me, trying to deliver a couple of pizzas in 20 minutes or it's free because some guy on the other side of town couldn't wait until the superheroes finished their battle.

My phone rang and I answered it through my ear piece. "Hey kid, you still out there?" my boss's gruff voice blared in my ear.

"Yeah," I said, "I found a side alley off of 22nd Avenue that seems relatively safe for now. Just passed Grant and coming up on Hill." Just as the words left my mouth an explosion shook the ground and nearly knocked me off my bike. I guess the fighting must be moving back this way.

"You're doing the shop proud, kid." He paused and I heard the rustling of papers. "You're also a lot further along than I thought you'd be. You need to get yourself onto 23rd. Left side, look for the Tordite building, blue tinted glass all the way up. Underground parking garage. They'll guide you from there."

The boss hung up before I could ask him what any of that meant. Why move closer to the danger when I'm safer on this street? In fact, after that last explosion, maybe I should move several blocks in the opposite direction. Except the boss hasn't steered me wrong before. He even tried to talk me out of taking this delivery. But the boss is paying, and Pop always said that if someone's paying then you should do your best for them.

Just then, a burning car plummeted out of the sky and slammed into the asphalt. I jerked my bike handles into the danger and onto 23rd Avenue, betting that the boss knew what he was talking about.

Ahead of me were more burning cars, shattered windows, and the occasional corpse. I pedaled as hard as I could, my eyes searching for the Tordite building. Though all the distinctive blue windows were shattered, I finally found it by the brass name plate miraculously attached to the front of the building.

I swung my bike down the ramp to the underground parking lot and was immediately greeted with a shuttered steel gate. So much for this plan, I thought to myself as I turned my bike back toward the street.

"What are you doing here?" said a deep voice behind me. Cautiously I turned to see nothing except the steel garage and the darkened parking garage beyond.

"Um hello," I said into the darkness. I got off my bike and walked to the closed gate. "Hello," I called out again into the emptiness. I was greeted with the barrel of a gun pressed to my face. Instinctively my hands shot into the air. "Sorry, sorry. I'm not sure what is going on. Mr. Giovanoni sent me here. Said someone could guide me."

The gun barrel pressed harder into my cheek. "Bullshit. Giovanoni's don't deliver during a battle no more. Not since Mr. Giovanoni lost his leg. New delivery boys haven't got a full spine between the lot of them."

I shook my head. "I drew the short straw getting back late from another delivery, and no one else wanted the job." I motioned with my head to the bike and the pizza boxes tied to the back. A flashlight shined from the closed garage, focusing on the shop name written on the side of the box.

The gun barrel withdrew into the darkness. A loud clang! sounded and the gate rose up. A dim light flickered on to reveal a man in an ill-fitting suit. "Sorry about that but we really can't have just anyone finding about The Routes," the man said as he waved me inside.

I walked my bike into the parking garage, unsure of what to expect as the gate closed behind me. Another dull fluorescent light lit up ahead of me, then another one after it, then another to the right of the last one.

"Follow the lights and let the next guide know your destination. He'll send you along to the next station," said the man with the gun. The light above me was already starting to dim. "Better get a move on. Follow your guide's instructions. If you survive, maybe I'll start ordering pizza from Giovanoni's again," he added as the darkness surrounded him again.

On my bike, I cut across the parking garage to catch up with the trail of overhead lights leading me further and deeper into the garage. The trail ended in the sub-sub-basement. At a dead end stood a man in a yellow and black costume.

"Where are you off to," said Buzzzz, the lightning hero. I gave him the slip of paper with the address and he shook his head. "Damn, that's right in the middle of it all." He closed his eyes and I felt a crackle of static all around me for an instant. His eyes opened and he walked to the door on his left. "Okay, I think we can make this work. Take this exit and head straight down the tunnel. Take a left at the first intersection you hit. When you get to the end, climb up the ladder and bang on the door. The next guide will get you from there."

A long loud roar came from the other side of the door. Before I could protest, he yanked the door open and motioned me to go through as a humid breath of wind ripped through the parking garage. "Move before the next train comes through. I was only able to delay it for a little bit."

I pushed my bike through and found myself in a subway tunnel. The door slammed shut behind me. Another low roar started approaching from behind, quickly getting louder. "Dammit," I swore and started pedaling faster than I'd ever gone before on such a narrow ledge. A light bore down on me as I headed toward the intersection. Sure that I was about to end up crushed by the train, I nevertheless continued to pedal, swinging my bike to the left once I got to the intersection. The train continued on straight. I got to the end of the tunnel without any other issues.

Kicking out the stand, I left the bike at the bottom of the ladder and climbed to the top. After three knocks, the door flew open. A blonde women in a black mask poked her head into the hole. "Okay, climb up and I'll bring your bike up afterwards," she said before moving aside.

I scurried up the rest of the way and into the street above. High above us, superheroes and supervillains flew through the air, engaged in aerial combat that made fighter jets look like paper planes. Smoke and dust chocked the air as buildings around us crumbled. Surprisingly, none of it came within a ten foot bubble around my guide and I. My bike floated through the trap door and settled next to me.

"Okay, the ground fight moved on about two blocks down the street and the smoke should obscure us from the fighters up in the air. My force field will protect us from any falling debris, unless someone drops an entire building on us." Then she started running and I followed, staying just a step behind the entire way.

"Sorry, I recognized Buzzzz down in the tunnel but I'm not sure who you are. Are you another hero?" I asked.

The woman in the mask nodded. "I'm not a full member of The League yet. The Routes is kind of a proving ground for some of us up-and-coming supers." Seeing the confused look on my face, she smiled. "First time using The Routes. See, whether they are heroes or villains, none of us for the most part are looking to harm those everyday people just going about and doing their everyday jobs. Jobs that they have to do just to get by in this hectic world. Jobs that some of us do too since superhero-ing isn't really a paying gig. So we established The Routes, a safe way to travel across the city when the safer thing to do would be to shelter at home."

"Then why doesn't everyone use The Routes to keep their businesses going through these crises," I asked.

As if to answer my question, a giant pane of glass shattered on the dome of the super's shield. She turned to me as we walked into a building. "It's still extremely dangerous to be out here. The Guides just do our best to keep you safe through The Routes." Then she reached up and touched her ear piece. "Okay, let the next Guide know about the change of plans." Then she slammed open a fire escape door and we hurried up the stairs.