[The next round shall commence in:]
[20:24:57]
My eyes began to open slightly from the slumber.
Almost immediately, I was hit by a pain on my cheek.
The feeling of being pierced by a toothpick, a dull needle, probing into the side of my face.
My eyes opened wide.
I could not move an inch.
"Oh, you’re awake," said a formal voice that seemed to be male’s. "Wait, give me a moment, sir."
Sir?
I turned my head slightly to see the man’s face but he had urged me:
"Ah-ah-ah. Don’t move. I’m in the process of sewing your injury."
Injury?
Right. I was just in the operating room, contemplating where everything began, when...I passed out.
All I remember was something had hit me then I collapsed to the ground, limp like a pickle.
I heard the click of a remote and the bed I lay in elevated, facing the man who kidnapped me.
"Hmm..." the man pondered aloud. "Did you fall from heaven, sir?
"Since Satan did as well."
I kept quiet, staring directly at him.
He shrugged.
"Don’t look at me like that. You’re Angel Sick of Their Own Skin, right? What a name." He sighed. "The novelist. Are you a fan of Lucifer? He did defeat the god, after all."
Then, he snapped his fingers.
"Reverie! Right, that’s your name. Has Archie ever talked about me to you?"
He leaned in expectation.
I almost felt bad for my own kidnapper.
"I’m sorry. Who are you?"
His shoulders and head dropped.
"Ah. Well, I should’ve expected that from the likes of Archie.
"We’re childhood friends, see."
"Okay..."
I was uncomfortable with the way he was acting like we were having a friendly, friend to friend, chat and not kidnapper to victim.
At my latest position, I could see that we were in a dim-litted room of some sort. A laboratory, perhaps, where the lack of light made the white walls seem almost purple or lavender.
On the side of my resting place, I took a glance wherein I could see some familiar tools.
I was a nurse once upon a time, after all.
This man in front of me had neatly kept hair with a single strand on his forehead, a pair of round silver-rimmed spectacles with a thick string of a silver chain to keep it in place, and good proportions. Though it was not as good as a runway model’s.
As though he formerly discarded the blazer, he wore a white button-up that was undone on the first button, making him look like some rebellious office worker, along with some black slacks and black glossy shoes.
He sat on the four-wheeled chair with one of his legs crouched and folded, resting its soles on the cushion of the seat.
Then, he stood up, approached me, and held out a hand.
"It’s an honor to meet you, our creator."
-
The Federation’s 16th floor.
Johnathan, who was often referred simply as Johnny, was watching as the caught nephilim was pierced with wires to keep it in place.
Twelve-year-old Archie stood and watched with him, with Archie gripping the hems of his shirt tightly.
For the first round, only fifty percent of the living beings were invited. Only those who were taken in by The Federation were sent away. The higher-ups speculated that it was because The Federation already experienced the tutorial.
Old man Reve, thought Johnny, was sent away.
Johnny was worried for him.
He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t considered as one of those that were "adopted" by The Federation. Maybe it was because he had received a gift from them?
Though, Reve may have acted rash before and exposed his joining of the rounds, but Johnny was sure he did it for a reason.
Furthermore, old man Reve was quiet. He was afraid that people might use his kindness.
Johnathan recalled the times where he was invited by Reve.
He, who was often isolated by his blockmates, found solace in Reve’s presence,
Reve, from what he could recall, was often rated by his blockmates as an eight out of ten.
If he was more friendly and removed that indifferent, sometimes scowling, look in his face, he would surely be more popular.
Johnny didn’t understand that, for he did not swing that way. But even someone like Johnny, who was straight as an arrow, could tell that he was rather above average.
He would never understand the minds of girls.
A group of teenagers that were taken in by The Federation during their being on Earth-663 passed by Johnny and Archie, giggling.
"We can’t trust them."
"Child martyr? What a strange way to say he’s a killer."
The words resonated deep in their hearts.
But Johnny, who stood at almost one hundred seventy centimeters, only hugged Archie, and Archie eased into his touch.
Turning away from the scene, the nephilim shrieking as another wire pierced it, crimson blood squirting, Johnny led Archie away.
"Let’s have lunch?"
Archie nodded.
In each floor of the tower, there was a cafeteria where it sold food that lasted years. How, by making it dry as hell. No water for the bacteria to produce. The ingredients of the foods sold were usually the following: flour, salt, beef tallow, cured meat, and others.
They had to line up for the food, especially if the cafeteria they were in were on the lower floors. So, Johnny suggested sacrificing some time by taking the lift to the 50th floor. Archie, who was still a child and rather naive, accepted as he always did with Johnny’s decisions.
Entering the lift, he tossed a piece of eight towards the man who was the lift’s attendant. He had no use for money anymore as they were in the apocalypse and since The Federation provided everything they needed: housing, food, clothes, and the like.
They were a charitable lot, these Feds.
Eventually, they reached the 50th floor after more than twenty minutes of being in the lift.
As Johnny had expected, there were barely any people and they were able to grab a dry and fatty meat bun.
Watching Archie as he munched on the meat bun right after they found somewhere to sit, he took a ponder.
He did not expect to receive a younger brother in the apocalypse, though he wasn’t against it now that it had happened.
Johnny knew the feeling of being isolated all too well.
The most he could do was give comfort to those who experienced it.
Maybe it was the influence of a certain Reve Schneider.
Johnathan awaited seeing him again in the next round.