{I continue to receive favorites and follows on all of my past stories (to which, with disbelief, I say thank you!). It's inspired me to start something new and publish an idea that's been in my head for a while. Below is merely a prologue, but please, past and new readers alike, let me know what you think and we'll see where this goes.}


"Daddy, please. This is already so embarrassing."

"Hush now, child. This is the very moment we have been waiting for. Now come. Your masses await you."

The Gotham City Church of Catholicism was bustling inside as faithful citizens awaited the service, fidgeting upon the pews. Women fanned themselves with their service pamphlets, men chatted amongst themselves while children sank to the wooden floors in boredom. Far back in the middle of the rows, standing before the locked doors of the church were two members of Channel 7 news, their cameras ready to broadcast to the city, live, at any moment now. Finally, the doors upon the large alter swung open, the chapel quieted as Father Clove stepped to the podium. Satisfied smiles stretched the lips of the church-goers as they quieted upon Father Clove's request, and once he had achieved silence, he lowered his hands.

"Friends, family, I thank you for joining us today on this most glorious of days," the priest began. "I've promised to you I would deliver wonder today, and hope; hope that this city, that all its inhabitants can turn to, rely upon. I offer you a freshness never seen before, never considered, and a freshness that I hope, with God's guidance, you all can aspire to. I offer to all of you here today in this church, to all of you watching at home, and to all who have the misfortune of missing this shining moment in history, the single most pure thing this city has ever known, and shall ever know. I offer you... my daughter."

The doors behind the alter opened, and from between two other priests she walked front and center. Her long white gown flowed behind her, and the wooden floors were cold beneath her bare feet. Her chest heaved as her eyes moved about the crowd, her face reddening, but she knew the worst was yet to come.

Father Clove turned, reaching out his arm, and the two priests lead her to him.

Father Clove gently touched his hand to his daughter's covered shoulder. "I present to you a girl completely untouched by sinning hands, a daughter sheltered from wickedry and danger, and a woman impervious to corruption. I present to you... Miriam-Eve Magdalena Clove."

With ovation the church goers applauded, and Father Clove moved around the podium to walk his daughter to the very front of the alter stage.

"I lie to you not!" The applause died down. "This girl remains a physical, mental and emotional virgin. Brought into this world by God himself, gifted to me by God himself, and raised only by God's morality and faith. My daughter stands before you as our symbol of good, of just, and the most concentrated form of our good faith. And if I shall be lying to you, then let the wrath of God strike her down stone-cold dead, right now, before our very eyes."

The church silenced, waiting, and a long, stretching moment passed. Miriam-Eve sucked in a sharp breath, tears burning behind her eyes. Before long the moment of truth had passed, and with ovation the audience stood, their clapping like thunder echoing within the walls of the chapel, and she flinched, her heart racing within her chest as she wished for nothing more than to merely disappear.

"Please, bid her welcome! And please donate to this beautiful cause, donate to keep this purity intact! She is your symbol!" Father Clove and the other priests set out baskets to the crowd to be passed along. "She is our living proof of a soul protected from sin! She is our guiding light, she is our savior's will and command in the flesh!"

The applause grew as the church-goers cheered, bidding their welcomes as the baskets passed around the mass following no direction, filling with more and more bills. She stood stiff as a board, willing her tears away, only for a single drop of moisture to disobey and run down her smooth cheek, glistening within the lens of the camera for all of Gotham to see.

'This can't be good...'

'She will be reworked for our cause.'

'Her mark upon my flesh... it will be mine...'

'Eh... I hate re-runs.'