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A Worse Idea 87

“You look troubled.” The voice came when Prometheus had his gaze directed at the floor. He lifted it and saw the priest.

The priest had a soft voice, which matched his soft smile.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Prometheus had difficulty mustering a smile, but he did so nonetheless.

“Are you in need of counsel?”

Prometheus shook his head. “I was just leaving, actually.” It’d been so long since he’d gone to church. Lord knows he wasn’t ready to talk to a priest again.

He got up and walked out of the pew, making his way down the aisle and out the door.

The priest watched Prometheus go. His name was Father Francis, and he had an adventure of his own to attend to.

Father Francis walked towards the church’s transept. In the corner there was a cramped wooden staircase.

He walked up to it, to the second floor of the church. These days, it went unused.

Or at least, that had been the case up until a few months ago.

Father Francis reached the top of the staircase and took out a key. He slipped it into the door and walked into what was officially an unused refractory.

Unofficially, the situation was a bit more complex.

It was a small bedroom — big enough for two people, a bed, and a nightstand. But not much more than that.

Lying on the bed was Superfreak, whose face looked just like David’s.

“Father?” Superfreak whispered, not opening his eyes, his mind still half-caught by the dream he’d awoken from.

“Yes, it’s me,” Father Francis replied.

“Am I ready? The world needs a new David. I want the world to see me.”

Father Francis couldn’t help but smile.

“Not yet,” he said, “but soon.”

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