Okay. I’m 18 years old. I’m an adult. I do not punch deities. I do not punch deities. Punching deities bad. Punching deities bad…okay, maybe one punch wouldn’t hurt-

“So what do you think?” God asks, as she restlessly stands in front of me, uninvited in the moldy bathroom stall I was to change in.

I look down at the clothes she brought to me. My usual attire of black hoodies and sweatpants were on the polar opposite of the spectrum, in nearly everything except color when compared with what she bought.

In my hands are a white t-shirt with the same ahegao patterns as the one on God’s hoodie, a black biker jacket, a pair of (shudder) jeans, and a brand of shoes so unbecoming of a young woman such as myself that it almost brought me to tears.

“God?” I call, raising the pair of shoes by their laces, keeping them at least a foot away from my face.

“Yes, my child?”

“What the hell is this?”

“The clerk called them ‘snazzy’. What a fun word! I knew I had to purchase them right away!”

“Oh, dear God...”

“Exactly! Now all my other children will know how special you are!”

I look at her face, she’s so sickeningly ecstatic that I actually have to consider the atrocities she’s bought for me. I mean, it’s not like she didn’t use my damn credit card, anyway.

My gaze drops to my tattered sneakers then rises to the abominations in my hands. With a sigh, I part with my children and begin untying the laces of the Chuck Taylor’s.

God beams and claps her hands. “Now you’ll be different from all the other girls!”

I do not punch deities. I do not punch deities.

I wiggle into the clothes she gives me and together we trudge out of the stall. The janitor looks genuinely rattled as we pass by him and exit the bathroom. As I shut the door, I hear him mumbling something about “damn lesbians”.

He’s in for a real treat when he gets to the second floor.

God and I pass through the exit doors and momentarily bask in the warm, demonless Georgia sunlight, before striding towards my car.

I had come here to check whether or not Jireh had gotten that calculus award she always fretted over, but now, one demon-half and two dilapitad classrooms later, I felt kind of stupid. Probably best to just leave her alone for the time being.

On the more optimistic side, it’s saturday. So only a few pairs eyes will be assaulted by the image of God and I’s matching torsos. Tlapping tongues and drooping japanese text bubbles are our uniforms today, and I feel like I have a “judge me” sign on my face.

“I can’t believe this used to be your school, it’s so beautiful. I can feel all the developing minds blossoming here.” God takes a large sniff, “Smells like adolescents discovering themselves!”

“Pretty sure that’s just pot.” I reply.

We get to my car and I’m opening the door when I realize her gaze has centered on me. Her eyes are a gold so rich, I wonder how much I could get for them if I “accidentally” just scoop them out with a spo-

“You’re young, my child.” She says, “You belong in the building.”

I almost laugh. “I haven’t believed that since the day I stepped foot in there and Rachel Panabaker asked me if I forgave her for the slave trade.”

We get in the car, and I stick the keys in the ignition. “Well, what do your parents think?” God asks.

Now I do crack a smile. “I thought I was your child.”

“Your human parents, I mean.” She responds, my semi-joke flying right over her holy-head.

I sigh, “My parents and I don’t talk much these days.” I rev the engine.

“Why?”

“I’m Nigerian and gay.”

“I don’t...understand.”

As I press my foot against the pedal, the car lurches forward and I turn to her for a moment. “Humans, your beloved children? Sometimes they kinda suck.” Then I pat her leg because the poor thing looks genuinely crestfallen.

We pull out of the school parking lot and drive in relative silence, a rare occurrence between us. So rare, in fact, that by the time we reach the highway, I worry I might have gone to fa-

“Ah! Six flags!” She hollers.

“...What?”

“I just saw a billboard for Six flags!”

“Um...congratulations?”

“Thanks! I’ve wanted to visit this magical place ever since I came to earth!”

“Magical? I think you mean Disneyland.”

She quirks her head. “Does Disneyland have six flags?”

“Well, no...”

“Oh. How many flags do they have?”

“Uh, none.”

God gasps. “None? I would never patronize such a place!”

“Crazy right? Imagine not having a single flag.”

“Preposterous!” She actually looks angered, and I have to stop myself from chuckling.

“Oh!” God jumps in her seat and turns to me, eyes dancing as her brain switches gears. “You’ve finally stepped foot into discipleship! It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“It’s...something.”

“You’re going to be able to do all kinds of amazing things with divinity!”

“Can I part The Red Sea?”

“Um...no.”

“Turn water to wine?”

“Not that.”

“Give Disney some flags?”

She sighs, “I wish.”

“So what the hell can I do?”

“Well, you’re a human, so unless I’m directly taking the weight of the prayer off your hands, like I did with Moses, you’ll pretty much only be able to use the holy spirit’s flames.” She perks. “Which can let you do all kinds of awesome things!”

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“You sure? The damn thing’s not even hot.”

“Silly child. It’s not supposed to be, why would I create anything dangerous?”

As if responding to her question, a bone-quaking boom thunders through the air as the car next to us erupts into furious, blood red flames, the force of the explosion launching it upwards. The vehicle does a front flip and lands a few meters in front of us in an upthrust of fire. I twist the steering wheel frantically, barely missing the burning car. The next thing I know, a piece of metal flings out of the explosion and smashes into my windshield, fracturing the glass. Around us, screams form an aweful harmony as they bounce off one another.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Ah! It’s a hell-vessel.”

“A what?”

“Think saints, but meaner.”

Another boom, this time from behind us.

“So what, they serve the devil?!”

“They serve hell. Samael is way too sweet to do such.”

“Well, we beat the demon. We can beat them too, right?”

“Of course!”

I quickly realize who I’m talking to and how useless her opinion is.

The prius next to us detonates in a red, angry display and the window on God’s side cracks.

“Dammit!” I curse, “Who’s doing that?

She foolishly rolls down her window and looks at the wing mirror. “The guy on my side isn’t launching projectiles.” She proclaims, as another car in front of us bursts into flames.

“There’s more than one?!”

I look at my wing mirror and am greeted with the terrifying view of a scowling woman zooming towards us on a motorcycle. She has dirt-blond hair and what seems like fresh, cherry-colored tattoos engraved into her left shoulder; adorning her figure is a tank top and black cargo pants. Her motorcycle is actually pretty sexy as well, but that’s irrelevant.

She clearly doesn’t value her life, because she takes her hands off the handlebars of her bike and places her index and pinkie finger against the same fingers of her other hand. She then mutters a few words, and an arrow composed purely of blood-red fire swirls into existence about a foot over her head, pointing directly at me. Her tattoo glows.

“So if saints can control the holy ghost’s fire, then hell-vessels control...”

“Hellfire.” God finishes with a warm smile.

The arrow over the biker’s head shoots towards us, and I’m only a car-swerve away from incineration. The projectile hits a pickup-truck instead, and the large vehicle flips over, crashing into the Camry in front of him as both of them vanish in a growling, scarlet cloud.

“This is bad, people are dying!” I turn to God, “Our flames are stronger, right?”

“Of course! Although ours can’t really burn anything.”

“What? But theirs is-”

“The hottest thing in existence.” The deity does a little dance in her chair. “I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I did such brilliant work with hell, didn’t I?”

“Splendid.” I say through clenched teeth, as the window at my side is spider-webbed after a flaming tire slams into it.

“Shit! What’s the point of having flames if it’s absolutely useless?” By now the entire highway is a burning mess of damaged vehicles and screaming civilians.

“It was built to help, not harm.” She said, her lips curved upwards in what I’ve learned is her “I’m super smart” expression.

“It literally sliced that demon in half!” I retort as a tumbling SUV narrowly misses us.

“Yeah, it helps humans, but on beings with anti-divinity, like the demon or the hell-vessel, it’s like poison.”

“So we can kill them?”

“Of course!”

“SO WHAT HAS THIS ENTIRE ARGUMENT BEEN ABOUT?!”

“…I thought you were seeking my teachings.”

Punching deities bad. Punching deities bad.

As I twist the steering wheel to avoid hitting a screaming woman with burning hair, my mind racks against the walls of my brain, looking for any way to not die. Do I get out and fight? No, I don’t know how many there are. How about tossing God out the window? I mean, she is the reason they’re trying to barbecue me.

Why the hell are they even wasting sweat on God, anyway? She isn’t particularly smart, or strong, or even just remotely useful at all. This angers me, and I decide that unsheathing my sword is unnecessary.

“God, is your seatbelt on?” I ask, as I slam my elbow into my damaged window, shattering the glass completely.

“Always!” she says, proud of herself for following human rules.

“Nice.” A grin finds its way to my face.

After the biker and her stormtrooper aim miss me again, I move the gear stick to reverse.

My gaze switching from my rearview to my wing mirror, my foot slams on the gas as hard as it physically can. I clench my calf muscles and press harder, using a bit of Samson’s strength, even though I know it might not make much of a difference.

The car pitches backwards, and the momentum is held back only by the seatbelt in it’s quest to help God worsen the damage to my windshield. As we dash in the opposite direction, she screams like she’s on a roller coaster and the adrenaline and warmth she radiates infects me.

“You want Six Flags?” I ask, “Don’t blink, you’ll miss it!”

The biker had just started her hand gesture and incantations when she notices my car enlarging. By the time she realizes what’s about to happen and reaches down to press the brake on her bike, it’s too late. The back of my Challenger collides with the front of her motorcycle and she’s thrust forward, rolling over my car and landing on the floor with a thud, after which she keeps rolling for several meters.

“There!” I proclaim, “Six Flags!”

God claps excitedly as I move the gear stick upwards and the car barrels forward. I turn the steering wheel to avoid crushing the hell-vessel, but I must not be fast enough, because as we pass her, I hear her shriek twice as both wheels on the left side of my car run over her arm.

“Shit.” I curse, “Hope she’s okay.”

“Do you want me to heal her?” God asks.

“What? No! Who’s the other one?”

God looks in her wing mirror and turns to me, “Some form of flaming man.”

My gaze leaps to my rear-view and I see what she’s talking about. It’s a humanoid form flying behind us, covered in the same crimson flames that the biker’s arrows were composed of.

An idea lands in my head as we pass an indiscriminate sports car dealership, and I roll my eyes. I really should drop the whole “don’t get too attached to your car”-rule. My insurance is already too painful to check, and I don’t want to imagine what the hell would happen to it after this past month.

“Why are we just seeing these hell-vessels now, anyway? And the demon? Why was he so much stronger? Why now?”

I swerve around a massive Coca Cola trailer, and the hell-vessel follows suit.

“Well, I imagine who’s sending them has realized we’re going to be harder to kill than he thought.”

I spin the steering wheel for dear life and the car turns 180 degrees. A gas-slam later, we’re bucketing in the opposite direction.

Silently, I utter a small prayer of thanks to God’s son in heaven, because the road is now empty. We’d be in a lot of shit if we were driving down at this speed against incoming traffic.

“I thought they wanted to kill you because your blood can be weaponized, and well...you kinda exiled them to be monsters for all eternity.”

“True, but they all work for as-...” she tapers off.

“They work for ass? What?” I press harder on the pedal, and the car slams into the hell-vessel, the heat from his body completely disintegrating my windshield. Said heat pricks at my skin, but I don’t budge. Next to me, God screams and swings her head around like she’s riding the damn Goliath. Her hair billows with the current of the breeze.

The man climbs over the hood of my car and leans against the roof, without a window the heat from his flames go from pricking me to stabbing me. I once again utter a reluctant “thank you” for the spirit of Samson.

“You’ve made the most foolish mistake in all of history, Yahweh.” The flaming man growls. “It doesn’t matter which human you choose to babysit you. You’re a mortal. While before we would have failed even with all the armies of hell, now, give me a match and bottle of vodka and I’ll get the job done-”

“Oh, no!” God exclaims as we pass by a roadside signboard. “We’re going in the opposite direction of Six Flags!”

“...Pardon?” The hell-vessel asks.

“She’s...slow.” The pressure of my foot on the pedal increases, and I turn the steering wheel to the left.

“Um, well, are-are you sure that’s God?”

“In the flesh.”

God smiles, “Literally!”

I turn to her slightly, “You already made that joke.”

She sulks. “My bad.”

With a shake of his head, the hell-vessel raises his fist, “Whatever, I didn’t carve my fucking skin for this shit.”

Before he could land his blow, my car jolts as it smashes through the guardrails of the highway. The three of us bounce around as the car jerkily moves over the slope of grass, before we get to the driveway of the dealership I saw previously.

I don’t slow down though, the pedal sinks further under the weight of my foot and we barge through the walls of the building. When we make it through, I slam on the breaks, and momentum carries the flaming man on a journey, crashing him into a beautiful indigo Bugatti. Both him and the car are lost in a huge red explosion that shatters the glass ceiling. Around us, civilians and employees alike shriek as they hurtle towards the nearest exit.

“Don’t worry, Jesus’ll make ‘em forget about it.” God reassures as we unclip our seatbelts and step out of the car.

“That’s great, but not what I’m worried about.” I say, as through the burning wreckage, the silhouette of a heavily breathing man slowly appears.

He walks out of the flames and glares at me venomously before cracking his neck and knuckles. I reach backwards and unsheathe my sword.

The man is wearing the same clothes as his bike-riding partner, and I can tell from the furrowing of his eyebrows he’s not too happy about what I did to her arm. His merry ginger hair contradicts with the sharp angles and stubble that make up his face.

“What’s your name, kid?” He asks. His voice is raspy, as if the words he says are jagged and scrape his throat on their way out.

“Check your mom’s speed dial.” I respond, inwardly cringing at my lameness as golden flames erupt over Uriel’s blade.

Your mom’s speed dial? Really?

He chuckles, “It’s a shame you sided with heaven, ‘cuz you would have fit right in with us.” He gestures to what’s left of my car and the damage we’ve done to the building.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” I crouch slightly and raise my sword. “But God has her benefits.”

“Thanks!”

The man presses the index and pinkie finger on his right hand to the same fingers on his left. He then closes his eyes. “Moon and Sun, Neo-Morningstar, grant me the flames of the Knight.” His body is once more engulfed in cherry-red flames.

After taking a deep breath, I tighten the muscles on my legs.

“Good luck, my children!” God cheers.

We charge at each other.