The Vatican
“A new religion is like a new car,” Angelo spoke to the masses. “It’s shiny and comfortable, but most of all it will get you where you wanted to go but never could with your older one.”
None of the crowd understood Angelo. They’d been fascinated by his demeanor and strength to speak out what they’d kept silent in their hearts. But once he began talking about a new religion things got confusing and boring.
“I’m going to give you all something that will strengthen your hearts and minds,” he said. “And most of all, turn you into superheroes. Forget about Ironman and the Hulk. You have a stronger hero inside all of you.”
People continued to listen.
“I will help you release that hero!” Angelo was theatrical as usual, as if acting in a Broadway play about Caesar. “How you may ask? Here is how. With the power of all.”
Some of the crowd tiptoed. He’d begun to strike a nerve.
“One fist is weak and mortal, but many thousands and millions are fists of steel,” Angelo said. “If you unite, we’ll kill the enemy. Who’s the enemy? They call themselves Wonderlanders. They think they’ve been reincarnated in our world. They’re mad. I know I’ve said this before, but I’m trying to reinforce a point.”
The man in black behind Angelo listened keenly, though he, too, was confused.
“By now I’m told that people all over the world are following me,” Angelo said. “By now, I know we’re many and that we’ll fight. We don’t need governments. We don’t need rules. You know why?”
“Why?” a few reluctant people in the crowd asked.
“Because from today on, we’re the government. We are the rules!”
The crowd cheered again. The promises were high but the price hadn’t been told to them yet. They were ready to listen to Angelo.
An old woman told her friend. “I really like Him. ”