battle.
Luke and the puppet tore through the riot squad. These new preachers had
no enhancements. No tricks.
“Fuck you, fucker!” the puppet yelled as Luke knocked another one
unconscious.
“Yeah. And you too,” Luke added, punching another.
“They ain’t sending their strongest,” the puppet observed. “This is
fucking easy.”
Luke noticed a cameraman lowering his equipment. They were going to cut
the feed. Too many preachers were going down.
Then he saw Roger shove the cameraman aside and grab the camera. He aimed
it at Luke, keeping the livestream going.
“Yeah, Roger!” Luke shouted, punching his fiftieth opponent.
Inspired, the remaining citizens attacked the preachers. The tide turned.
The surviving preachers retreated. The battle was over.
A crowd of thirty people formed around Luke and the puppet. Some reached
out to touch them.
“Hello,” Luke said, sheepish.
“That was fucking intense,” the puppet blurted out. “Am I right?”
An older woman stepped forward. She examined Luke, then placed a hand on
his right shoulder. The puppet turned toward her.
“Are you really Jesus?” she asked.
“I am,” the puppet said. “Though I don’t know why I’m a white sock. That
definitely wasn’t my fucking color the first time around.”
Roger moved in with the camera.