You’d think after facing down mutant beasts, turning into one myself, and running through explosions like a budget action hero, I’d earned a break. Maybe a warm shower. A sandwich. A nap. Nope.
Instead, I was standing in the middle of an abandoned subway terminal, surrounded by a group of survivors, while a guy with a melted face and a glowing staff tried to convince everyone I was the Antichrist. Classic Tuesday.
“Elias Cain is the harbinger!” he shouted, waving his staff like a conductor trying to summon an apocalypse orchestra. “His blood is the key to the final corruption!”
“Okay, that’s a little dramatic,” I said, raising a hand. “Can we all agree that calling someone a ‘harbinger’ before coffee is just rude?”
Nobody laughed. Tough crowd.
The guy with the face that looked like so
