Separation, Part Four

Continued from Part Three

Small Packages took a bite of cabbage as he eyed Commander Justice’s clinched fist.

Doesn’t the Sword realize what a jerk he’s being? Here the Justice Family blazed the trail for all of us, and he’s never given them more than lip service.

Small Packages turned to the bekilted Highland Guardian. “So, you’re a grounds keeper at a cathedral?”

Highland Guardian laughed. “In a way, Lad. I’m a pastor.”

Ah, another one of the Sword’s liberties taken to ensure he didn’t blow the whistle on anyone’s identity. “I see. Do the words wheat and tares mean anything to you?”

“Aye, it comes from a parable of Jesus. A landowner planted wheat and then at night, an enemy came in and planted weeds that looked like wheat, called tares. It represented how there’d be a mix of good and bad, but that at the end of days, God will reveal the truth and separate them.”

I doubt the voice meant that.

“Are you a Christian?” asked Highland Guardian.

“Yeah. Haven’t been to church in a while. Get busy, you know?”

“You really ought to—”

Captain Revolution pointed at the spot between the Impress and Highland Guardian, “Excuse me, can I sit here?”

Highland Guardian nodded. “Aye.”

The Impress stood up. “No.”

Captain Revolution tisked. “Oh, don’t be so hasty. The Sword has no clue when we’re getting out of here. We may have children together.”

The Defender jumped to his feet. His white trench coat, suit pants, and dress shirt shone in the fire’s light, which blazed in his eyes. “You have no interest in her.”

“Do some math, bible boy. There are twenty-three men, and only six women. Of the choice of halves available to me, I’d rather my children be half Japanese. Half Chinese is likewise a smarter choice for her than half Russian. If we’re here to stay, it’s a simple Darwinian matter.”

Bile rose in Small Packages’ throat. We mistranslated his name. It should be Captain Skinhead. Man, I can’t believe this. How can a superhero be a racist?

The Impress said, “And it’s saying things like that which get you eliminated from the gene pool.”

Captain Skinhead eyed the Defender. “Well, some of us will be.”

The Defender replied coolly, “Yes, and it is the ladies’ right to decide which. As you are surrounded by men who serve justice, not Darwin, I suggest you reconsider proving to everyone what we already know about you, Comrade.”

Small Packages glared at Captain Skinhead. “Too late.”



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