The morning dragged on like every other. JJ woke, prayed at the temple, read scripture, debated with fellow acolytes, prayed again, and read some more. 

It was only the midday break that allowed him freedom to leave the confines of the Autonomous temple and walk through the Yoularnon streets. Funny, how constricting the sect that touted liberty and free will was. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Paul said, giving furtive glances at the surrounding buildings. 

JJ was walking through Howin, a neighborhood in disrepair where more than four out of five crimes were committed in the city. Whereas most Yoularnon neighborhoods were well-maintained, Howin had a different air than the rest. The buildings were coated in dirt, arguments echoed from behind shattered windows, and every few alleys had a small crowd with glaring, hostile eyes directed toward JJ. 

“Then leave,” JJ said, smiling at the latest group of scowling men. “You’re making this more difficult for me, anyway.” 

JJ had removed his priest-in-training smocks, which were made of light flowing fabric with various cuts in the design to show random parts of his skin. Paul, however, who studied to be a deacon, wore them proudly. At least, he wore them as proudly as someone covered in a thin sheen of sweat could. No one would dare offer illegal paraphernalia to a holy man, be it drugs or firearms. JJ doubted someone would even try to mug them, lest they feel the Autonomous sect’s divine wrath. 

Though, stranger things had happened. One of their teachers, Bishop Diego, recently returned injured from an outing where heretics attacked three Titans at a mine facility! If heathens would go that far, who knew what an idiot thug would do to a religious acolyte? 

“That’s not the point,” Paul said. “You shouldn’t be doing anything here.” 

“Come now, My Child.” JJ raised his head like many dozens of holy people. “Wouldst thou protest our duty for taking care of our fellow man? To save sinners and our likewise followers of the Eternal Titans whom have lost their way?” 

Paul rubbed his forehead. “It’s ‘who.’ And don’t pretend that’s what you’re doing.” 

“Then what am I doing?” 

“You’re looking for–” 

A strange ground-like scent, almost like soil, curled JJ’s nostrils. Yoularnon’s closest green space was miles away, so this had to be something illegal! 

In the nearest alley, four men and a woman huddled close, facing another man who handed a small baggie to the group. The woman gave the lone man a coin – a physical credit! 

Gotcha! 

As if exhaling, JJ felt his lungs depress slightly. Winds swirled around him, twisting violently as he rushed into the alley. Two people exclaimed, but it was too late. Yelling, JJ leaped into the air and his winds sent him into the group. 

Two dropped the moment his feet connected with their heads. JJ’s lungs shrunk as he flung another two men into the wall. They fell, groaning and holding their heads, as JJ shoved the woman into the ground. Her head bonked onto concrete, then she lay still. 

The dealer – a small, skinny man – rushed away. JJ smirked; easy pickings. Winds whipped him toward the coward and a solid knee to his back felled the wimp. 

Dozens of baggies with small, white disks flung from his pockets. 

“See, Paul?” JJ roared, leaping from the man’s back. “He was dealing spores. Look at him, corrupting our lovely citizens with his wicked narcotics. I’m doing the Titans’ work.” 

But beyond the unconscious addicts, at the edge of the alley, stood Paul, giving JJ a strange look. He should have been amazed with how swiftly JJ handled the ne’er-do-wells. Instead, Paul’s gaze was disappointed. He raised his armband to his mouth. 

At least Paul knew to call the police so they could thank JJ for a job well done and arrest these criminals. 

“Hello, Deacon Mark,” Paul said, making JJ’s stomach plummet. “JJ actually did it.”