Church On State -part 1- By Top Tier Story [FAST]

sits on one side. He wears a high-collared black cassock over tactical armor. The CHURCH ON STATE SEAL —a gavel crossed with a crucifix—stitched into his sleeve. His eyes are dead. His hands are still.

A WOMAN in the front row sobs.

You have 30 seconds to surrender.

Sign the recoding waiver.

A decommissioned CHURCH. Stained glass windows blacked out. Candles. Rows of refugees—Marked sinners, excommunicated women, children with no baptismal records.

Two boys, 15 and 13. CAIN (younger) and ABEL (older). They sit on a rusted fire escape. Below: a city that hasn’t yet become a church.

Cain steps forward. Slow. Deliberate.

Forgiveness doesn’t fill your stomach. The State feeds us. The State gives us purpose.

The first murder was a brother. The second will be too. But in the Church On State, they don’t call it murder. They call it... justice.

The State says you are unworthy. The State says your sins are debts. But I tell you: grace is not a transaction. Church On State -Part 1- By Top Tier Story

STEAM hisses from floor grates. A single TABLE of polished obsidian. Two chairs.

We are high above the city. The CHURCH ON STATE—a 200-story megastructure shaped like a twisted cross—pierces the clouds. Neon crosses pulse on every corner below. The city is silent. Curfew.

Praise the sacrifice.