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Underground Saints

The subway car shunted down the tunnels taking them to who-knows-where-or-when. It had been a strange few days and Max's world had gone to hell in a handbasket. His ideology and psyche had gone through a major rewrite. As if some unknown program had been hiding in the wetware, and some trigger event had started it running. 

His eyes were tired and the nights and days blurred together into some incoherent 80's music montage. The train was near empty again. Suki was sleeping, curled up on a couple of seats, the Godhammer in her hands. Akimoto was down at the far end exercising. Swinging an imaginary sword in his own imaginary world. 

Max felt a kinship with the others; heck, they were all drawn into this mess by a common thread. But his heart and soul were elsewhere, he could see that in the reflection of the darkness outside.

Max watched the platforms blur into one huge world of their own. He had been watching worker ants who though that they were so important doing their jobs, as if it truly mattered. He didn't envy them waiting. Waiting for their turn to go someplace other than where they were. Thousands of different universes with no clue about the existence of others. All trapped within their own boundaries like a prisoner on an island, ignoring the outside truths. 

Man, I'm so screwed, he thought. Mags, wherever you are, I love thee.

He was jolted back to the current reality, as the subway car came to a stop. The call sign of the station was West Hampton. He reached over and shook Suki; her eyes fluttered open and she brought up the Godhammer. The tip of the barrel touched Max's nose.

"We're here," Max told her with a wink and a slight smile. "Time to get your game face on."

"Cool," was Suki's reply. She lowered the cannon.