The three looked between each other. There was no more time for words. No more words were necessary.

They knew their places.

Jesus swung into the driver's seat. It was the only real place for him, and there wasn't another option, when it came right down to it. Buddha didn't fit behind the wheel, and they'd both seen Satan at work on that flask inside his jacket through the day. No, Jesus would handle it.

Their wheels spun on the gravel. The others were circling, now. It was time. The final battle, the final fight to see who would win the game once and for all. Jesus and Satan teaming up was a given. The other candidates had complained – it wasn't fair – but complaining got them nowhere.

They all tried to pretend like they weren't going to do the exact same thing as soon as the opportunity presented itself. They looked between each other edgily, sizing the competition up. Picking teams.

Buddha, on the other hand, was a surprise. What incentive did he have for working together with the terrible twosome? His smooth, expressionless face gave no hint of an answer as he clambered all the way up behind the gun mounted in the truck bed. His bare feet were steady on the metal floor, perfectly centered even as his girth swung disconcertingly.

"Here they come!" Satan roared. He had elected himself shot-caller, of course, even though they hadn't set teams. Neither of the other two were surprised by that, either. He'd always needed to have the last word on things.

The first contenders were approaching. Muhammed was out front, leaning out the side door of a torn-up station wagon. He clutched a rocket launcher in his hands. They could see Shiva behind the wheel, grinning like a madcap as he spun the wheel. The overburdened little car nearabouts rode up on two wheels as they whipped into a donut.

"Shoot! Shoot! Now, goddammit! Why aren't you shooting yet?!" Satan screamed. Jesus gritted his teeth, choosing to ignore the fact that his father's name was being taken in vain alongside him. Buddha was just watching, sizing up the shot. And then his meaty finger gripped the trigger.

The roar of the gun was deafening. Satan clapped his hands over his ears, roaring with laughter as the gleaming, glowing rounds arced out towards the station wagon. Shiva was swearing – they could see that much, even though his words were lost to distance and the racket. But they were spinning too fast. The ground between them erupted into shredded sand and mud.

Muhammed wasn't waiting anymore. A plume of fire shot from the rocket launcher.

Everything happened all at once, after that.

"Satan!" Jesus cried. He, too, was turning now, but there was only so much he could be expected to do. He was supposed to be positioning them to attack. Defending them was-

"I got it, I got it! Don't get your robes in a bunch." Satan hissed. Defending them was his job. He lurched dangerously in his seat, barely holding on. But he pulled his hand up into an almost-level position, mimicking a gun.

Red circles appeared endlessly around their truck. Something was coming up from underground.

"Damn it, Satan. Do you have to-"

"Don't complain, big guy. Left. Left. Go-"

The truck whipped into a left-hand turn, narrowly avoiding the black pillars shooting up around them. Jesus shook his head.

"I've got it. Stop backseat driving."

The other teams were coalescing, now. One after another, the deities were lining up for the big fight. They all knew. Whoever won this, would win the world. And none of them wanted to lose.

He could almost see them, if he squinted. Four sets of hooves, barely visible under the cloudline where they floated. Watching. Waiting. The final fight, for whoever crushed the competition here.

He winced. The little station wagon had just been slammed by a hummer. He could see Ra through the front window, glowing faintly from the shit-eating grin on his face. Oddly noodle-like tentacles were swarming out of the vehicle, attaching themselves to the station wagon. Which seemed to be vanishing into the mass of pasta.

"Drive! Drive!" Satan screamed in his ear. The roar of the chaingun from the truck bed was almost a constant companion, now.

Jesus grinned, flexing his hands on the wheel.

(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome. And going to head it off, I know that Buddha isn't really the fat jolly man statue most people associate with it, but, most people associate that with him.)

~~Note – Another part or two is a possibility tonight when I get home, although this won't for obvious reasons be a long term project beyond that. If you want to be notified should that second part happen, leave a comment in the thread about this post on my sub. It's linked above 🙂 I will notify anyone in that thread re: updates.~~

Part 2

Source: first top-level non-bot comment from r/WritingPrompts.