After about a week, an amount of time long enough to shock Johnny, he was finally able to locate one of his Rota Fracta contacts. They met in Central Park.
"It's not Rota Fracta any more," said the contact.
"Yeah, that's how it seems," Johnny replied.
"No, I meant it's not called that any more. Now it's Rota Refacta."
"What? Why?"
"Catherine has fixed the wheel. We take orders from her now."
"That wasn't in the prophecy," said Johnny.
"It's the prophecy of the unrevealed prophecy."
"Oh."
"Render unto God what is Caesar's..."
"So," said Johnny, "she saw Caesar?"
"Yes, he was freed by Bob."
"Why?"
"Because he's not the Antichrist."
"Really?" asked Johnny sarcastically. "He must have been terribly disappointed."
The contact said nothing.
"So it's Donald's sister?" asked Johnny.
"Yes."
"Have you found her?"
"We're not looking for her?"
"Why the Hell not?"
"Catherine's orders."
"Listen, we discussed this. Some of the saints would be disoriented. They'll have trouble fulfilling their roles at first. Remnants of this life. It's in the manuals."
"She's had time. She has the confidence. It's obvious she is Catherine."
"You underestimate Dahlia."
"It's not a matter for debate, Johnny. There is no more Rota Fracta. The people who engineered the Santa assassination have turned themselves in, on her orders. One was a police official. High up."
Johnny felt a strange sense of relief to hear about this comeuppance.
"So, what's our new mission statement?" he asked.
"The Age of Prophecy is over. God is among us again. We must listen to Him."
"What if we can't hear him?"
"Well, she's writing up some pamphlets."
"Oh, I see..."
Object: black hole.