A young man knelt in a museum. It was the local museum more commonly known as the Church of the Thousand Gods, an omage to the Gods of old, beings far superior to mankind that man used to worship before Sukebe unleashed his hordes of bio-weapons upon the Earth. Now these mighty deities are but a foggy memory obscured by the horror of rampant legendaries and menaces patrolling a very real and very dangerous world outside the confines of civilization.

Today, we know only vague descriptions and a few surviving tales of heroism, hedonism, magic, and might, testaments to the Old World, the Pre-Sukebe Era. Hardly anyone visits the Church save a few Warrior-Nuns and their begrudging tamers now. Yet, the mystique and supposed power of these long dormant Gods did have their appeal. Would prayer really bring about an answer? Would the divine wisdom of Minerva, the subtle enlightenment of Buddha, or the humble majesty of Christ really come to his aid? He had only one way to find out.

The young man knelt in front of the God he thought could help him most. He glanced around to make sure he was alone before he looked up and spoke to the statue, "My brother's in a heap of trouble," he began remorsefully, his voice trembling, "He's the target of the local Team gangbangers. The police ignored his plea for help-" He trailed off, and his eyes fell to the ground. "I don't know what to do. My brother had a couple of domestic pets, but there isn't much they could do against hardened criminals." The mere thought of losing his brother sent a small tear trickling down his face. He was glad he decided to 'ball his pet before coming in. He wouldn't want to do this in front of anyone. Looking up at the statue of the God in askance, he continued, "Please, if there is anything I can do, anything you can do- I'd do anything."

Were you supposed to bargain with Gods? He had never heard of stories of this God asking for things. Maybe he'd just help. Heck, if this worked, he'd spread the word, and maybe these Gods could actually be worshiped again instead of locked away in this Museum. Church of the Thousand Gods, what a misnomer. Standing up, the young man felt a second wind coming to him, "I'm not going to let my bro down. He needs me," he declared suddenly before hastily adding, "Uh, thanks." There was a certain trepidation with speaking with a Higher power, one that supposedly trumped legendaries by a unfathomable margin.

Turning to leave, he thought that maybe it was true that these Gods worked in mysterious ways. Revitalized he decided that no matter what, if his bro got through this, he would return and offer his thanks. Casting one last look at the statue of the God distinguished by the telltale symbol on his chest, he smiled. The young man felt he had made the right decision coming to pray to the Paragon God, the Paragon of Man, Superman.