Table of contents:

1. Survivor in a frozen apocalyptic wasteland discovering a new community

2. Soldier carrying an injured prisoner to a resting area without permission

3. Student on his way to school in the morning

4. Patient fleeing the scene after having shot someone

5. Person entering their new apartment

6. Participant reacting to a person's head blow off

7. Man dying from overdose

8. Teacher yelling at student for being selfish

9. Woman making small talk while thinking about god

- 1 -

Click, fsssh, tck. Click, fsssh, tck. One would think that flicking a lighter on and off whilst wearing gloves so close to the flame might be dangerous, but there were larger worries than burning off a finger or two; for example, this foreign place that a certain cloaked figure was standing before. Grey eyes watched from behind orange-tinted goggles, taking in the barbed wire twisted round the wooden stakes that were pounded into the ground.

The mysterious being donned a heavy black parka, the fur lining the hood matted with frozen snow. Beyond that was a gas mask, dulled from usage and serving as both cover and protection for their face, from both the others and the cold. Their charcoal coloured being would occasionally be tinted orange as the plastic green lighter's flame flickered on and off.

Click, fsssh, tck.

It was clear that the person was facing a dilemma of sorts; after all, they'd been standing in front of what could only be a part of the gate for a while now, silently musing over their next possible actions. Sooner or later though, they knew that whoever was occupying the space inside would come out to check up and see whether or not the stranger outside was a threat.

Snow crunched under heavy hiking boots as the figure shifted their weight side to side, trying to keep their body moving and warm. Or perhaps the community--for that was what they assumed this area was--just didn't have many occupants. While irritating, it would certainly explain the lack of welcome.

The cold was biting at them, despite all the layers that they donned; shouting was always an option should, well, whoever this was seek attention. A shudder ran through their body as another gust blew by. Yes; they would do exactly that. After pocketing the lighter, they then proceeded to walk a little closer to the fence.

"ANYONE HERE, OR IS THIS YOUR WAY OF TELLING ME TO JUST COME IN," came the hollow sounding voice, raspy and distorted from behind the mask.

- 2 -

The thumping of his boots against the trodden soil beneath slowed as he heard the unfamiliar voice call out faintly from his arms. Rather than completely stopping though, he kept moving at a steady, albeit less quick, pace. Carrying around an injured person wasn't an uncommon sight, but he was more than aware of the possibility of running into a certain soldier who had just gone on patrol.

"Ahh, hell. At least I know you're conscious," he muttered. "I know, my arms aren't the most comfortable thing to be in. We'll be there in a moment."

Still, he paused, if only for just a short instance. The mentioned building would take maybe another thirty seconds to get to; he resumed his movements, his feet falling one in front of the other carefully, as if he were trying to sneak past enemy lines. This would probably be the best way to walk smoothly. Soon enough, he had arrived. Not even bothering to knock, he let the hand under the female's knee reach forwards, just enough to grasp onto the frigid handle, a shudder running through his body at the sensation. He pulled the door open, bringing the two in and out of the autumn gale circulating around outside. Earthy brown eyes scanned the room, stopping on a neatly made bed by the corner, next to the stone-stacked fireplace. There were no flames in the pit, but the one-story house was built well enough to still be somewhat warm.

He made his way over to the bed and then carefully lowered the prisoner in his arms onto its untouched sheets.

"Don't black out on me; Evielyn you said, yeah? You need anythin' before the guy comes? Water? You don't need to talk; just nod."

- 3 -

The auburn-eye'd man was already well on his way to school; he was an early riser, and found it rather pointless to lounge around at home if he was already more than ready to leave for school. While many others in his grade didn't particularly mind being late, he personally would rather not be. There was always more to gain from an early arrival than a late one, after all. Not only that, but teachers tended to look upon those who were not tardy more favourably.

He dragged a slim hand through his hair, brushing the long red strands back and away from his imive face as a slight breeze blew by, bringing with it the scent of warm, freshly made loaves of bread. It wasn't anything new; after all, he had been privy to this experience for the last four years of his life. He could make out the school's rusted gates up ahead, the area before it empty except for the sparse few other students who decided to also arrive early.

ing through the opened metal barricade, Tatsuya nodded at the gatekeeper as he shifted the black, weighted case in his right hand to his left. It wasn't as if he was too familiar with the man, but rather, he enjoyed the cold formality. Things were much easier when rules and etiquette were being set down. His shoes tapped quietly against the pavement beneath as he walked towards the massive doors leading to the school's interior, noting how they were still unopened. Once it was closer to the time where students usually arrived, it would unbolt itself soon enough.

As it currently was though, he reached out an arm to push open the entrance, slipping inside and out of the cool weather that plagued the school's yard.

- 4 -

Surprisingly enough, rather than hearing the familiar footsteps of what was sure to be an enraged guard following behind him, he heard a different, yet also familiar, pattering. Gage's? He quickly stopped, turning around and readying himself to face her. His muscles were already beginning to hurt, and he could already feel a bruise beginning to form on the part of his leg where he kicked at the shorter guard. His body was most definitely not fit for so much physical exertion. This twist of events was a pleasant and convenient surprise for him.

He slipped the stolen gun into the waist band of his pants, letting his saggy shirt obscure its outline. In all honesty, his attempt to hide the weapon was absolutely pointless; she was probably coming towards him exactly because she knew what had happened, and that he now had a gun on him. They both knew he wasn't stupid enough to throw it away and pretend he had never shot the bloke.

"Ah, Gage. Just in time; there were a couple of injured guards a few hallways b-back." He stuttered as he uttered his last word as repressed laughter began to seep out. Whoops. His laughter was a pleasant one, sounding as if he had just been privy to a funny joke--and he had. Besides that though, his breathing was fairly controlled, having calmed down back to a normal pattern of inhale-exhale.

- 5 -

Green. All she could see was green. To her left, to her right, when she closed her eyes; it was such an obnoxious colour. A wide grin spread across her face; she loved it.

"YES!" She leapt up into the air, whooping gleefully. This was it; this quaint little room with its equally adorable furniture was the place to be. Her footsteps were muted as she ran across the carpeted ground, running excitedly up to the pale emerald-coloured table, brushing her hands across its smooth painted surface. There were small indents patterned along its rectangular shape. A simple lamp emitted warm glows from the top right corner of the desk, straining to make itself known despite the overbearing sunlight streaming in from the large window next to it. Her hand reached out to grasp the back of the chair tucked neatly underneath, pulling it out as she stepped forwards, preparing to sit.

Pause.

Her brown hair swayed, brushing past her shoulders as she turned to look out the window; something had caught her eye outside. The source of her distraction?

"My brother?" She exclaimed, eyes lighting up as the small dot down below ed by. She hadn't seen her brother in person in ages; that was two pleasant surprises in one day now; getting the official papers for this apartment, and receiving a surprise visit from the one and only,

"Gabriel! Hey, here!" She yelled, waving one hand animatedly, the other flinging the window open. Given how she was currently on the 14th floor though, it wasn't surprising when the other didn't respond.

- 6 -

The girl had been standing fairly close to the person whose head had just... Oh god... The sight hadn't fully ed in her mind yet, so she simply remained frozen, dumbstruck from where she stood, the warm liquid that had spattered out slowly rolling down her face and absorbing itself into the fabric that was her clothes.

"A...ah..." She simply stuttered out, eyes trained on the steadily increasing pool of red on the ground.

"Zero said there was no time limit... But what if there really is? What if he's killing off players who aren't actively searching the rooms...?" She managed to say in a hushed and almost frantic tone, unable to look away. The scene before her looked almost unreal, until she reached up a hand to wipe what she thought was sweat away, only for her finger tips to come back down with a film of some sticky red substance.

Her face paled and a hand shot up to her mouth; oh god, this was real. Panic began to clamber up her throat, refusing to stop its steadily increasing presence.

-7-

Death; it was something he'd never considered. For someone who'd had his some of his organs taken and blood drained to the point where he'd almost become an immobile body who could do nothing but wallow in self pity, dying wasn't anything terrifying. It seemed impossible; as if it would never happen. After all, if it was meant to be, then shouldn't he have already ed away all those years ago in the hospital? How hadn't he been killed yet despite the type of job he had?

He laughed abrasively, the sound quickly changing into violent coughing that sent his already pain-wracked body into a withering mess of fire. Had it been the ibuprofen? Or the opioids? Oh, and who could forget the alcohol from the night before. He broke up once more; it was all three, wasn't it. He'd called for help a few minutes ago, but it was clear that they wouldn't be arriving anytime soon. He wasn't going to die; oh no, it'd be much too stupid for him to go like this, doubled over in his own apartment, alone save for the mess of bile and pills scattered around him. He didn't think he'd taken too many, but his body clearly thought otherwise. He laughed.

"I'm going to die," he finally managed to spit out, half jokingly, half despairingly. Was he grinning wryly as he usually did? He couldn't tell; he couldn't feel much of anything. And soon, he couldn't think much of anything either.

- 8 -

"I'm saying you're selfish for refusing to move on and actually do something to fix the situation!" He shouted back, teeth bared angrily.

"Stop looking down on her. She's not some baby who can't handle some conflict, unlike /you/. So you made a mess of things. Fine! I'm not telling you to pretend it never happened, I'm telling you to CONFRONT THE DAMN ISSUE and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. It's the fact that you aren't even trying that makes you so fucking pathetic," came the snarled response, brutal and wholly unsympathetic.

He hung his head for a moment before snapping it back up, frustration coursing through his being. He wanted to hit something, but there was nothing to attack except for the boy in front of him. Instead, he settled for combing his hair back angrily once more, roughing up the mess he'd taken so much care to fix before leaving his room earlier. He could solve this easily; put a memory in him that made him think he'd come to with everything. But that was too easy, and Nick wouldn't give the boy the satisfaction of solving the problem without the struggles that came with it.

"What happened in the forest, with your flashback. Look; the past is the past; you embrace it, and you learn from it, but you don't let it dictate your /every fucking move/," he snapped, chopping down the side of his right hand on his opened left palm with every syllable. He didn't understand what was so difficult, why he couldn't just move on. Memories gave you experiences, but they didn't make you. They weren't something you could retreat behind when you did something wrong.

And then the boy averted his gaze, tone softening. There was a crack in his voice, a certain weakness that slipped out through the rage. Nick didn't doubt that the boy regretted what he did—that question had never been on the table. But even so—

What he said afterwards; was he right? No; he didn't need to ask himself to know. It was obvious that he would have hated Todd, that he would have never forgave him if he really had killed Rosy. He would have made him suffer, just as he'd make anyone else who hurt her suffer. He didn't know Todd; he was a name, a folder of information that happened to have a voice. Nick had been trying to convince himself that he was over it, not because he wanted to, but because he knew that was what his friend wanted. He wasn't retarded; either as a student, or as something more, he was important to her. And no matter how much he hated that, he'd hold it in. For her. He was brilliant at lying when it counted, after all.

"Yes. You were close to killing her. But look here; look at the REALITY of the situation. She's /alive/, because you didn't. Do you know how much she cares about you? Do you realize how much more your ignoring her hurts her compared to your strangling? When she woke up, you know what was the first thing she asked? How you were. /You/."

'This kid, this fucking child who won't—won't even try to consider her feelings, won't even try to do anything. All he does is complain and run; this is the person Rosy values?'

The heat was back, and beginning to overwhelm his sense of reason. The more he spoke, the more his irritation turned to frustration, and from frustration, to anger. His fingers were digging into his palms once more, interrupting the healing wounds and sending hot crimson beads slipping out again.

"You think it's hard. You think it's impossible. You think you can't, and that you don't deserve her kindness. You're right about one thing: you don't. But you're not doing this for yourself; you're fixing things for her. You owe her that much, so stop playing the fucking victim."

He began to pace around, one hand loosening from its fist and clawing down the side of his face, leaving behind jagged red streaks. His heel dug into the sand as he finally came to a stop, balling up his fists once more, the smell of iron mixing in with the lake breeze.

"You think I don't understand? You think I've never gone through something like this before?"

He suddenly stormed up to Todd once more, grabbing at the collar of his shirt this time, tugging it violently upwards. His eyes gleamed, livid with anger and—a barely noticeable sliver of anguish.

"I left, her, for six fucking years," he began shakily. "SIX YEARS," he roared.

"You think /I/ deserve to have her back in my life? You don't even fucking know what my absence did to her." The gap lessened as Nick yanked the boy even closer, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, he released him, shoving him away. "But I'm not wallowing in guilt, am I? I'm going to do something. I'm going to help her."

'I'm going to save her.'

"I'll be honest. I don't care about you, or anyone else. You can despise me all you want; at worst, you piss me off. But Rosy cares about you, and no matter how much you try to throw her aside, that's not going to stop her. It's only going to hurt her. I'm not giving you some bullshit answer like it's not your fault; I'm giving you the truth that you're too scared to see yourself. And if even after all this, you're not seeing it, then yeah. You don't deserve /anyone's/ care."

- 9 -

What a horrible liar.

Her thoughts didn't appear on her face though; she nodded happily before facing forwards once more, swinging both their hands slightly as she began to walk.

"Mm... I wasn't ever really too interested in hair and make up." Her right hand went up to brush through soft brown locks, straight and untouched by any sort of styling products. The only indication that they'd been touched, was the neat trim of her bangs.

"Your hair though; is it naturally wavy? Do you style it? It's very cute."

The air was refreshing, cold to the touch and brisk. Faint laughter drifted around them, sounds that emerged from half open doors of warmly lit parlours and pubs. There was no moon tonight; not yet, at least. Clouds painted the sky an apathetic grey, like the giant eye of a god who did nothing but watch no matter what happened, be it extreme brutality or moments of pure joy. Staring. Observing. Waiting. Gods didn't exist, but if one did, then she'd liken him to a scientist; what else could he be? What other being could observe so coldly the experiments and events that went on on the world below, that went on between the humans that inhabited the glass cage known as the Earth?

Regardless of whether there was one or not, Tsurumi neither liked nor disliked god. If he was satisfied with simply looking down on the creatures slinking about, crying, laughing, screaming, each trying to live in their own way regardless of whether or not they actually breathed or had hot crimson blood flowing through their veins, then she would be satisfied just staring back, observing back, waiting back. If she had the drive to watch an eternal entity forever, then simply watching and waiting for one human to reveal his secrets was nothing she couldn't do. Until it happened, she would continue to entertain small talk.