Johnny had killed him, damn it.

He'd beheaded the man. That wasn't something people walked away from. That wasn't even something where a well timed ambulance could save him. That was a fatal blow, the kind that was fool proof and flawlessly lethal. There was no hit or miss, it was just hit. Johnny was nothing if not very good at what he did, and he hadn't half assed his job when it came to Bibleman. Bibleman hit every last nerve in Johnny's conscious mind, ticking him off so bad that the rest of his week had been thrown into a funk. When killing this particular annoyance, he'd been more than careful in how he did it. He chose beheading so there was no chance of that obnoxious prick bothering him again.

But there he was, eating dinner with his two super hero sidekicks out of disguise. How anyone didn't recognize his voice, Johnny would never understand. It was the one thing all super heroes forgot to diguise. In all of three seconds, Johnny had recognized all of them - but apparently this low level of deduction had been beyond all of Bibleman's other enemies. Knowing their faces, Johnny would hardly have trouble with killing them later, he thought dully as he watched them. The only reason he hadn't done so already was his keen interest in figuring out how, exactly, Bibleman's head had been re-attached and he was fine in a matter of days. Several possibilities went through his mind - aliens, zombies, duct tape - before the Bible toting hero noticed Johnny.

He went pale. He froze. He stared. Horror, fear, realization, getting over it, bravery. A whirlwind of emotions passed over his face as he started to stand, eyes wide and worried and locked on Johnny's calm, uncaring expression.

Johnny, across the street, rolled his eyes and walked away with a dismissive wave. Not today. He wasn't going to fight with the Bible-toter today. He was in the mood for a Fizz-Whizz and a taco, not another killing. Tomorrow, maybe. Even he had his limits, not that you'd know it from some of his bouts of insanity. With a yawn and languid sigh, he stretched his arms over his head before vanishing from the other man's view entirely. Not every villain, it seems, is fond of dramatic battles after an epic entrance. And while it might befuddle Captain Dramatic over there and his little dramatards, Johnny knew that it hardly mattered now. If Bibleman was immortal, then they had all the time in the world to fight each other. Literally.

Still, it perturbed Johnny to no end that his attempt on the man's life had failed. He paced, he drew some Happy Noodle Boy, he watched static on TV to see if it was as meaningful as insane people said it was. It wasn't, though it provided at least some background noise for his thoughts. The total lack of logic nagged at him, his mind going in circles. So, there was someone else out there who couldn't die. There was someone else out there that eternity rolled its eyes at and chucked back into the living. Johnny had to admit that in spite of himself, he was curious as to how it had all come about. Of course, asking him was out of the question. The man would probably freak out at so much as a 'hi'. Then again, Johnny mused, if neither of them could die it hardly mattered who freaked out on who. Finally, when it hit five in the morning, he threw his hands in the air and conceeded to himself that he might as well go investigate.

Finding him wasn't hard. All Johnny had to do was look through a couple churches. He decided on the tackiest, most obnoxiously over done one, and waited crouched behind a statue. In three minutes flat, there he was. Like clockwork. Johnny didn't bother with any of the drama or flair he supposed a 'villain' to a 'superhero' meeting was supposed to have, instead simply stepping out from the shadows. There would be plenty of time for drama later, when this guy realized just how cruel and corrupt this city was. Right now, he settled for tapping the man on the shoulder.

"Bibleman."

The man looked as if he might run. Then he looked as if he might punch Johnny. "You."

"You're alive," Johnny said, making it sound equal parts question and statement, tilting his head so that his hair-horns fell over his eyes. "You're not even scratched."

"Why do you care?" he asked cautiously. The homicidal maniac shrugged in response, eyes far away for a moment.

"I died once. Came back a lot worse then I left. My hair fell out. Satan was a jackass. The whole thing was hell. How'd yours go?"

Christ, Johnny could've been talking about the weather for all the seriousness in his tone. Apparently death and Hell hadn't done much to phase the maniac. But he was calm enough right now to be talkative, so Bibleman attempted to come up with some sort of response. It was his turn to look far away, and he did for a long moment, trying to put Heaven into words.

"Elize is a terrible guide. Other than that, it was very peaceful and restful. I think I might actually be younger now than when I left." The memory of Heaven was clearly still vivid in his mind. Looking over at the man who killed him, he hardly saw the same person. Johnny appeared curious and watchful, instead of angry and insane. There was a level of clarity in his deep brown eyes that hadn't been there before. Braving triggering another attack, Bibleman asked, "How'd you die?"

"Suicide." A non-chalant shrug accompanied the word.

"Oh." He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he decided that re-asserting himself was a good idea. "I'm not going to let you or Satan get a hold of this city, you know!"

"Trust me, Satan's too incompetent to get control of his own son, let alone a city." Johnny snorted. "Besides, I don't want to 'get a hold of' this city. I want..." He trailed off thoughtfully. Damn. What did he want? Contentment, maybe. Food. A roof over his head. Brain Freezy's? Peace and quiet. "I just want to exist, and while I haven't read the Bible in, well, EVER, I'm pretty sure there's not a rule against that. I think."

"You kill people."

"Shit happens."

"I'll pray for you."

"You do that." Johnny looked over at him, as if remembering why he came here. "What's your name, anyway? I'm not running around calling you Bibleman like we're in some lame-ass comic strip."

"It's Josh," the Chrsitian replied, shifting uneasily, not willing to give his last name. The other man didn't press him for it, instead choosing to walk away from him with a vaguely satisfied glint in his eyes.

"Johnny." He called over his shoulder, as an afterthought. "You can call me Nny."