“Alright, boys. Today’s a big one! Today we debate two god-like powers in a battle to the death—”

  “Or incapacitation.”

  “Or that. So, in the blue corner we have Rayna—”

  “Shouldn’t it be the red corner on account of her armor colors?”

  “Any of you seen her wearing it in person? I have and it’s more of a dark red, like maroon or something.”

  “No. It’s officially scarlet. The mural in HQ specifically calls it that on the plaque.”

  “Shut up! Shut up! We’re getting sidetracked. Fine. Rayna can be in the scarlet corner. Happy? And her opponent in the blue—”

  “Purple.”

  “What? Why?”

  “That’s his color.”

  “Okay, hold on. I read the Gospels to prep for this and I don’t remember it saying that he even had a color.”

  “It’s the traditional color of kings. It’s why churches have a lot purple banners and stuff.”

  “Alright, fine. You’re the junior priest, so I bow to your knowledge. Will you let me finish? Ruined my intro.”

  “Who cares what corner they start in?”

  “I’m setting the stage.”

  “Just get to it. We only have an hour for lunch.”

  Indeed.

  Utensils clinked on plates as idle chatter filled the cafeteria with an indistinguishable drone of sound.

  A long exhale through the nose.

  “Rayna versus Jesus H. Christ! An epic clash between—”

  “Why do you keep adding the ‘H’? I promise you that isn’t a thing.”

  “Really? I thought— whatever. Not applicable to the debate.”

  “Who’s starting it?”

  “I’m taking Jesus.”

  “Really? I don’t know, bro. You’re, like, pretty anti-religion.”

  “I’m taking Rayna’s side.”

  “Bros… what the fuck? You like doing opposite day as a joke or something? You hate religion and you’re backing Jesus. And you? You’re a literal junior priest and you’re backing Rayna?”

  “We have to go outside our biases in order to become well-rounded critical thinkers, remember? Otherwise we end up ignorant dumbasses stuck in said biases, which will lead to… uh… ignorance and shit.”

  “Yeah, that and I’m a huge Rayna fan. Just cause I’m a priest doesn’t mean I’d back Jesus blindly. I’m not that kind of priest.”

  “Dudes… just start already. My steak’s getting cold.”

  “You can eat.”

  “I don’t want to miss the openings.”

  “Alright, alright, Jesus! It’s like this every time!”

  “Who’s going first?”

  “You can go first.”

  “Thanks. So, Jesus Christ. The king of kings, the Son of God. Verifiable feats—”

  “Hold on. Are they though? They’re in the Bible, but, like, that’s just stories written by some dudes.”

  “For the purposes of having a debate that will have to do since we have nothing else to go on.”

  “Fair enough. Sorry for the interruption. Please continue.”

  “Thank you. I want to start by conceding powers that I cannot in good conscience ascribe based on the textual evidence. So, no God powers. Again for the purposes of this debate Jesus is not multiversal level with omnipotent abilities, etcetera.”

  “Why not though?”

  “Because he didn’t display such in the text. Him being both the son of God and God at the same time wasn’t clearly displayed. Therefore, we can’t give him God’s feats. Besides, most of those were in the Old Testament and we’re only pulling from the New. Basically, he is God because people say he is and that doesn’t cut it for this debate. Anyways, please don’t interrupt. The way I read it Jesus has four superpowers. Waterwalking, transmutation, matter creation and healing.”

  “Citations?”

  “I marked them with sticky notes.”

  “Thanks.”

  The sound of pages turning joined the rest.

  “Healing is probably the most powerful since he can basically cure death. However, that’s pointless in this fight. He didn’t display a quick healing factor type power, so I will concede that it wouldn’t help him when Rayna crushes him into a ball or launches him into space or flattens him into the ground like a met pancake and so on. I think the key for him to be not instakilled is actually the waterwalking.”

  “I see where you’re going.”

  “I don’t. He can walk on water? So what? At the highest level of interpretation you could say he can fly, but that won’t do shit against Rayna. Does he even actually fly?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right, which is why I’m choosing to interpret that feat as one of self density control. Presumably, that means increasing the distance of the molecules that make up his body. Thereby providing a defense against the crushing and controlling force of gravity. Now, for offense I focus on transmutation. Jesus transformed water into wine. What would happen if he transformed Rayna’s blood into the same thing?”

  “That’d be a win con. Except, what are the mechanics? Can he do it through a sealed container? Does he need touch? Or just line of sight? Or no line of sight at all?”

  Pages turned.

  “It’s not clear. Says there were stone jars filled with water that he turned into wine.”

  “That implies open containers and it didn’t say he stuck a finger in them. So he has to see the liquid he wants to transmute.”

  “Then he can’t turn a human’s blood into wine or acid or whatever else.”

  “Can he cut her? Is she in armor?”

  “Moot point. We didn’t give either of them gear.”

  “He creates a throwing knife out of the dirt. Boom! Cut! Blood into wine!”

  “Okay, there’s so much stupid with that… not even going to dignify it with a rebuttal.”

  “Hey, cut the cross talk. He’s not done with his breakdown.”

  “Thanks. I’d like him to be able to do something with the matter creation, but I can’t justify it based on the text. He turned bread and fish into more bread and fish. And to me that means he can do food. Only food. Any counters?”

  “Nah. I’m good with that. We’re doing mid to high level interpretation with a bias toward recorded feats.”

  “Okay. So, continuing on. In my analysis, I believe Jesus has a narrow path to victory. First, he lowers his density such that he isn’t instantly killed or BFR’d, which counts as an incap. Second, his transmutation power over liquids has to cover all liquids and be line of sight. Lower density to survive Rayna’s first move. Then hit the liquid in her eyes to cause pain and maybe blind her. If he can acid her then that opens up a path to her insides and his win.”

  “Yo, you know what I was always wondering about?”

  A sigh.

  “What?”

  “If his last name is Christ why aren’t his parents also Christs? I was reading some of the stuff to prep for this and I noticed, like no one has last names. It’s all like ‘Joseph of Nazareth’ and just ‘Mary’. Did they not do last names back in ancient times or something?”

  “Short answer. Yeah. Probably. Long answer. Shut the fuck up. Don’t derail. We’re running out of time.”

  “Shit, man. Relax! This is supposed to be fun. What’s the point if you’re going to get a gremlin up your butt?”

  A throat cleared.

  “Mary Magdalene had a last name.”

  “Oh… so it should be Jesus M. Christ then?”

  “No! That’s a different Mary.”

  “Why would they name two characters the same? It’s just confusing.”

  “It was a little. One was his mom and one was like a prostitute, but also maybe his girlfriend?”

  “They’re not characters. They were real people.”

  “Allegedly.”

  “I think I read a book about that. They had, like, a secret baby or something. There was, like, grail knights and a quest to defeat a tattooed monster guy.”

  “I thought the incest stuff was more in the old half.”

  “Bro, you’re such a sexual deviant. It wasn’t with his mom! It was with the other, non-related, Mary.”

  “What were her powers?”

  “His mom or his girlfriend?”

  “Guys! Keep it down. You’re embarrassing me in front of the priests.”

  The table in question was a good distance away and gave no indications that they were listening in.

  “Nah. Monsignor’s cool. She answered all my questions without getting defensive or mad. Didn’t even try to get me to go to her prayer thing.”

  “She is, but not… whatever. Just. Are you done?”

  “Yeah, sure. I throw the ball to you.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Now, we know mostly what Rayna can do—”

  “Do we though?”

  “Please don’t interrupt him.”

  At a nearby table an out of place group sat, ate and listened.

  “So… you were right. They’re morons.” Olive popped an olive into her mouth.

  “The tanned one spent his breakfast bugging me about my ‘feats’ a couple of days ago,” Kelci said. “Seemed really focused on how much I could overhead press.”

  “Should’ve just given him your file.” Adrian grinned like a black cat that had just caught the canary. “Or just told him that you’re Class 18 physical strength now.”

  “36 when I’m really mad.” Kelci returned the feral grin.

  “Stop that. You’re making people nervous.” Tabitha didn’t speak often, but when she did they listened.

  She was the smallest at the table, but she was the most dangerous.

  Not that they were scared of her slipping out of their shadows to cut them up.

  They had complete trust.

  Even the relative newbies.

  Their teams didn’t work at their peak with it.

  “They haven’t asked me yet.” Olive pouted. “Did they ask you, Black Cat?”

  “Yup. I gave them absolute accuracy regarding my ‘feats’. Apparently, I’m ‘building level’.”

  “You filthy liar,” Olive grinned.

  “What the fuck does that even mean?” Kelci said.

  “Means I can destroy a building.”

  “Yeah, if you had a micromissile launcher.” Olive started pilfering olives from Tabitha.

  The young woman was still technically a teenager, but she had earned her place on the team.

  “Did they ask you too, Tabs?” she said hesitantly.

  “No. They can’t catch me.”

  “Olive, you sound like you want them to bother you,” Kelci said.

  The young woman brushed black hair over one ear. “Well, some of them are kinda cute.”

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  “That is true,” Adrian agreed. “You want to pass a note for you? Just tell me which one you like.”

  “No! Shut up! That’d be so, like, school.”

  “I didn’t really have school growing up. Mostly, my momma and daddy did what they could to teach me stuff.” Kelci sighed.

  “Same here. First time I had real school stuff was after Cal recruited me,” Adrian said.

  “I don’t remember if I had school when I was a kid,” Tabitha said.

  Olive’s eyes widened. “O.M.G. I’m so sorry, guys! I didn’t mean to, like, bring up, like, stuff…” Her olive-colored skin flushed, darkening the deep purple on her cheeks nearer to pure black.

  Olive had skin tones akin to an olive. Specifically, the Kalamata type.

  Indeed, it was in a display of appalling lack of creativity that Dayana had given the young woman her codename.

  Not the one could judge her too harshly for fate had done exactly the same.

  ‘Olive’ had always been Olive.

  For that was the name her parents had given her.

  In those days she had been as fair-skinned as her mother and as dark haired as her father.

  The first inkling that there might’ve been something different about her was her inability to gain a class. Either through random, natural chance or the old practice of having her club small animals.

  Then puberty happened.

  Now she was superhuman in all physical aspects.

  Class 6, in fact, with a reasonable expectation for further growth as she aged and exercised.

  That, however, wasn’t her primary ability.

  “Should I tell her?” Adrian looked to Kelci and Tabitha.

  The former chuckled.

  “Sure! She looks funny when she blushes.”

  “Flirting is allowable, but full hooking up isn’t smart in a combat zone,” Tabitha said.

  “You guys! C’mon!” Olive placed her face in her hands.

  “We’re just teasing, Olive.” Kelci placed a massive hand on Olive’s shoulder, swallowing it up. “I promised your parents I’d keep boys away, anyways.”

  “You too?” Adrian grinned.

  “They seemed most concerned about that,” Tabitha said.

  “Oh my god! Just kill me now.” Olive thunked her forehead next to her plate.

  “Hey, Black Cat?”

  “What, Hungry-Hungry?”

  “Since we’re doing hypothetical death fights now. What do you think about you versus the werejaguars?”

  “I would lose.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, two on one? Get the fuck out! I know my limits.”

  “Seriously? You think you’d lose to those twins? They’re way too aggressive.”

  “Look, were all about equal physically. Except they got better teeth and biting mouths when they go full transformation. Plus, they have Skills, which I don’t.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got a definite gear advantage. Threnium armor. Monomolecular claws and plasma claws and lighting claws and—”

  “I get the idea and yeah. If I have all my gear then I’d win easy. But we wouldn’t fight seriously because they’re allies.”

  “Do not start seriously pursuing this,” Tabitha said flatly as she stood. “Return to our house after you finish. We’ll go over today’s schedule.”

  They waited until she had walked out of the range of their superior senses to talk about her behind her back.

  “Does she seem upset to you?” Kelci said. “You have better senses than me. I can’t tell.”

  “Yeah. She’s pissed about something. I’m guessing it’s cause she’s here and not with the guys picked for the Quest over on the Least coast,” Adrian said.

  “Why would Tabs be mad? It’s, like, all fliers.” Olive voice was muffled by her being face down. “Only Lucy and Hayden get to go from us grounders.”

  “The terms the youth use today.” Kelci sighed.

  “Hey!” Olive turned enough to give the enormous woman a baleful glare. “You’re, like, only 7 years older than me.”

  “That’s a long time,” Kelci agreed magnanimously.

  “You’ll understand when you’ve reached our age of wisdom,” Adrian reached over and patted Olive on the head. Naturally, his cat-like claws remained retracted. “As for Tabs? I think she’s always felt a sense of protectiveness toward Boy and he’s been gone a long time on a dangerous Quest. Him, Galen and the rangers.”

  “I have been feeling a little uneasy about that over the last few months,” Kelci said. “The longer it goes the more I think it’s time to pull them out and try something else. Like, say, dropping rocks. Big rocks. From really high up.”

  “That would be the easiest and safest for us, but that’s not how we were taught,” Adrian said.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have it any other way, but sometimes it annoys me that we have high standards while the shit we have to take out have none,” Kelci said.

  “Ah… so, Kels? How would you do against the werejaguars?”

  “I’d smash ‘em.”

  “The eagle guys?”

  “Air smash.”

  “Jaguar warriors?”

  “Light smash.”

  “Jaguar knight?”

  “Medium smash.”

  “The shorn one?”

  “Hard smash.”

  “Teopixquis?”

  “Eh… these ones are nice. No smash.”

  “Tlaloc?”

  “I get smashed.”

  Days passed and Olive was finally approached, only for Tabitha to slip out of the poor, young ranger’s shadow.

  And thus, did Olive just about die from embarrassment.

  Even more days passed and the expected attack finally came.

  Was it a coincidence that it coincided with the American election night?

  It was one of the days with the highest probability in their projections.

  Tabitha sat on the counter of the front desk in ranger command HQ.

  She was in charge, which she didn’t like, but Cal made her.

  He had said that he trusted her, so she should trust herself.

  She’d rather be on the opposite coast.

  Hungry-Hungry and Black Cat remained calm while they waited.

  Their projections had relied on a variety of disparate sources. Both magical and technological and other things Cal kept close to his chest.

  The strongest one had narrowed down to this night.

  Enemy attack from the ubiquitous golden portals that spewed harpies and monsters combined with something less orthodox.

  The sudden surge of undead coming from the supposedly under control spawn zone underneath downtown San Diego seemed to fit that box.

  They had even identified a likely culprit.

  Although, how she had managed to slip through observation, if it was her, begged the question.

  A lanky ranger in a damaged flight suit barged through the front doors and spared them a flat look before striding deeper inside despite the desk people trying to get his attention.

  She could feel their disapproving stares on her cloaked back.

  That was fair, she was sitting in their way.

  “Drake rider. Took some spell damage. You know how I can tell?” Black Cat said.

  “You can smell it.” Hungry-Hungry rolled her eyes. “Funnily enough, I knew that too. You know how I could tell?” She pointed a huge, blocky finger toward the glass doors. “Oh look! A drake!”

  “Make that two,” Black Cat said.

  “What? Really?”

  “Yup. She’s behind the bigger one. Smells like fire and smoke. And not a little bit of fear.”

  “Oh? I read the file on that one. Young one. Unique. Only drake they have that is black and breathes fire.”

  “Spits fire.”

  “Yeah, Spitfire. The rider’s ‘Volcano’ or something like that.”

  Black Cat shook his head. “Your reading retention is…”

  A ranger came down the hallway at a brisk walk.

  Tabitha recognized the man as part of the command staff.

  Couldn’t remember his name.

  Something… something… Pineapple.

  She recognized the look on his face.

  “Guys, go to the shuttle and get everyone ready to go.”

  The ranger stopped in front of her and avoiding looking at her face.

  That, too, was fair.

  Not many could look directly into the living eyes on the monster hood pulled over her head.

  Especially, not up close when she activated it.

  “So, um, a lich was spotted outside… on the street… Captain has given the go ahead for you to proceed with your op. Um… good luck!”

  With that he turned and beat a brisk retreat.

  It took less than ten minutes to gather everyone and get them loaded into the shuttle.

  Finally, it was time to begin the hunt.

  “Hello! Everyone! Um… I just wanted to say a few words while I have the chance.” The young ranger spoke hesitantly and in a soft voice. It was lucky for him that the shuttle interior was quiet as a whisper and many of the occupants had superior hearing. “As you already know my name is ‘Ranger Vess’. I’m honored to be selected for this great opportunity to fight by your side on this Quest as your death magic specialist. I am a death wizard Level—”

  An old woman cleared her throat.

  “Er… yes… not supposed to say that out loud. Sorry, Captain Monsignor.”

  “Child, we have trained together for the last few weeks. Introductions are no longer necessary,” Zayaan said. The sun-bronzed man with deep lines on his withered face nodded, not without understanding. The feathers looked incongruous arrayed like a bird’s crest on his high-tech helmet.

  Smirks and chuckles filled the compartment as the young ranger flushed. Lucky for him he sat in the front and most couldn’t see his face take on the coloring of a tomato.

  He brought his eyes to the floor and somehow managed to briefly look into the panther-like monster hood that covered most of the Quest leader’s face.

  “I… uh…”

  The dark eyes on the hood moved as if they were still alive to pierce him. “I don’t want you distracted when we descend, so get it all out.”

  “Sir, I, uh, haven’t had the chance to say this, but you inspired me. I mean…” The words rushed out of him in a rush.

  A story.

  10 years ago.

  Halloween night.

  His grandma lived in the same neighborhood as Rayna.

  Trick-or-treating.

  A neighborhood-wide haunted ‘house’ experience.

  A very scary young woman ‘hunting’ costumed kids from the shadows.

  It had been formative for him, but not in the bad way despite some of the parents’ complaints.

  “I wanted to be just like you, but my talents led me to the death magic.” He smiled sheepishly. “My younger sister, though, she’s a shadow rogue.”

  Danceassassin growled. “I remember that, but I don’t remember you. What costume?”

  “I was the brown cow! My sister was the dairy cow!”

  “Hrrmm… I remember you two. Scared, but smiling and laughing. A lot of other kids were crying. Cal made me do it. Said it’d be fun.”

  “Did you, um, get in trouble?”

  “For what?”

  “The… uh… making kids cry?”

  “No. Parents signed waivers. And everyone got mad at Jayde since she used real monster blood on a real, working chainsaw, so they forgot about me.”

  “Rest her soul.” Monsignor made the sign of the cross.

  “I won’t let you down, sir. I studied for a semester at Ms. Teacher’s wizard school. I know I can contribute!”

  “Ranger Vess. Just focus on your role. That’s what all of us are doing. That’s what’s expected of us. The team will work because it’s a team.”

  The hood had flipped back over the woman’s head at some point.

  Vess hadn’t noticed that happening even though he had been flicking his gaze from the floor to her face.

  “I won’t let you down.”

  The shuttle stopped suddenly, but all he felt was a slight lurch, no worse than gentle break of a car. Riding on drake or wyvern back was an exponentially rougher ride.

  “This is your pilot speaking. Please put your seats and trays in the upright position. Seat belts off. And wait for the doors to open completely before disembarking. Thank you for flying Air Wiggles! Now, go kill those dead, er, kill them again. Good luck and happy hunting!”

  A happy humming tune filled the comms before Dancessassin shut him up.

  Hungry-Hungry went first, stepping into the darkness.

  The hybrid had scared Vess at first, which he had berated himself over after she had been nice enough to answer his hesitant questions. She had been forced by the evil American government to undergo a gruesome procedure under the eviler fingers of a twisted eidolon.

  Still, it was wasn’t easy to rein in his instinctive fear response.

  It wasn’t her two-toned skin color of gray-brown pink and dark blue verging on black.

  Nor was it her broad, brutish features in which a pair too-small black eyes sat.

  Not even her tusk-like teeth amid more normal ones. Or the way her mouth could open way wider than one would think upon looking at her mouth.

  What scared him was her sheer size.

  To call her stout was an understatement.

  Solid muscle in a thick-skinned package that made the biggest bodybuilders and strongmen he knew look like waif-ish children.

  Her shoulders were so broad that she had to turn completely sideways to fit through the standard doorway and even then it was a tight fit.

  Thankfully, she had been super nice.

  She landed with a thumping crack as the street cratered under her thick boots.

  The poor street hadn’t stood a chance.

  She weighed over 500 kg without her thick armor and massive shield.

  He followed the others in stepping out of the shuttle.

  Borrowed armor absorbed the landing.

  It had been so much fun wearing it that he resolved to do everything he could to make sure this Quest wouldn’t be the last time. He thought about his chances of being recruited to more special quests like some of the senior and higher level rangers.

  It had to be pretty good right?

  Here he was, just turned 20 and already over Level 30.

  That was like prodigy level… probably.

  Sure, the Bountiful Decade had kicked off a rise in leveling rates that continued to the present day with no signs of slowing.

  Plus, the American warmongering backed by their outworld overlords only added to the constant state of conflict.

  Okay, it was probably a bit arrogant to call himself prodigy, but, the fact was he got picked to go on this Quest with high levels.

  Monsignor was a ranger legend.

  Even the Mexicans were legit.

  Although a little weird on account of not all of them being actually Mexican.

  Zayaan, a teopixqui, was actually African.

  The old man was a pretty cool dude despite being a bloody death priest of sorts.

  Told stories of his homeland.

  Some place in Africa called ‘Nigeria’.

  Vess hadn’t been a good student in geography class, so he couldn’t picture where it was on the map.

  The Jaguar Knight was born somewhere in Eastern Europe, but his parents had decided to emigrate to Mexico.

  Another was the child of parents who had once lived in the Slaver Kingdom.

  She hadn’t shared what her parents had been in that shit hole, so Vess hadn’t asked.

  Of the five that were on the team, only the werejaguar twins were native to the old country.

  The rest had made use of the open borders program.

  Apparently, the immigration process had been easy for awhile now.

  Apply on the Omninet.

  Get approval.

  Interview to determine mutual fit.

  Negotiate over the exchange of benefits and contributions.

  And fly over on a patrolling skyship or teleport if you had the ability or means to purchase the service.

  “Nice landing!” Olive flashed him a smile and the peace sign.

  He remembered Dancessassin’s warning.

  So he returned it with a strictly professional smile of his own. He kept his mouth shut to avoid feeding himself his own foot as he had done dozens times over the last few weeks training together.

  Even with oddly colored skin, Olive was objectively pretty and hot.

  A deadly combo for a young man such as himself.

  It was even worse that she didn’t act like she knew she was those things.

  “Maintain comms silence unless absolutely necessary,” Dancessassin said.

  Hungry-Hungry led the way into the Burger King.

  Past the front counter and the kitchen.

  Down the hallway toward the back.

  It was a tight fit, so Hungry-Hungry simply destroyed the walls by brushing through them until they came to a door that didn’t fit all the other doors in the building on account of being comprised completely out of crimson-slick bones and grinning skulls dripping wet, red strips to the floor.

  Dancessassin gestured.

  Hungry-Hungry opened the door and they descended into the underground.

  One part old network of tunnels dating back a very long time. One part a spires creation.

  In the present some called it the Gaslamp Necropolis.