"Another church. I guess that makes it the most successful chain brand in the multiverse."
On a brightly moonlit night, Harley crouched beside Deathstroke with her hammer over her shoulder, using the bushes in front of them as cover while secretly watching a church in the distance.
Anvil Town was just an ordinary small town in the United States, but the church here was suspiciously large—far too large for the place.
The church looked dilapidated from the outside, having fallen into disrepair over the years. A crooked tree stood before its doors, long since withered until only a few leaves still clung to its branches.
In an age lacking faith, everyone cared more about their own interests. Going to church was seen as a waste of time, and nobody put coins into the donation box. Naturally, churches had no money for repairs.
Without money for renovations, even fewer people came. It was a vicious cycle.
"You've got that wrong, crazy lady. People go to church when they want to worship God, but they have far more options when they want to kneel before the devil. Their own basements, garages, abandoned buildings, deep forests at night—anywhere out of the light will do."
Bobo squatted nearby with his arms around his knees, fiddling with a twig as he habitually bickered with Harley.
Harley pursed her lips, propped her chin on the handle of her hammer, and spoke lazily. "A lot of the time, it's better to rely on yourself than beg someone else for help. Asking a demon to handle things is worse than dragging the person you need dealt with somewhere dark and killing them. If you can't solve the problem, solve the person who caused it. Hmm? You seem to be giving me a problem?"
The woman with twin ponytails