The two words hung in the air.
Then Adam turned around. Not the man, not anymore. He walked back toward the light, and with each step, the void around him died. Not darkened. Died. The gentle, infinite white of God's realm greyed and faded where his shadow fell, turning into a sterile, empty nothing.
"Alex," Adam said, not taking his eyes off the light. "Cage him. Make him solid."
Alex's hands were already moving, weaving threads of absolute existence. A lattice of shimmering, undeniable reality formed around the divine presence. It didn't hurt it. It just defined it. Made the infinite, intangible concept of God into a localized, definable "thing" in space. The light brightened, pulsing with outrage.
"The rest of you," Adam said, cracking his knuckles, "handle the choir. This is between me and my old boss."
