???: "So, how was your day William? "
A voice, a familiar one, a polite one, a gentle one. Rare, haven't heard one in a while. I chose to ignore it, blanking out, Just...getting lost in my own thoughts.
???: "Uhh William? Buddy, you good?"
William: "...Oh, Howell. Sorry, what were we talking about?"
The man in front of me let out a gentle sigh to my question. I awoke from my spacing out, I don't even remember how I got here. I scanned the room, it was a small office, clean and orderly. I was sat down on a chair, leaning back, a lit cigarette I didn't even notice I had until now dangling between my fingers.
The man in front of me—Howell Brightman—had red hair, and bright red eyes wearing a what seems to be a scientist cloak? Idk if that's what they call it but whatever.
He smiled gently as he taps the paperwork on the desk between us, placing his cup of tea on the table beside him and pulls out a pen.
Howell: "I'm gonna need you to sign these paperwork please?"
William: "Yeah...Sure, but what's the point of all these?" I said, grabbing the pen and signing the papers.
Howell: "What do you mean?"
William: "Listen, I know we're not supposed to question our...let's just say 'Job', but really, you think the ACE really cares about us?"
Howell leans back on his chair, taking a sip from his cup of tea.
Howell: "Well, if I were to answer honestly...They obviously don't really care much for us. We just...Do what they say, no questions asked."
William: "Yeah, that's what I'm saying doc. What's the point of containing anomalies when the system itself is just as bad?...I'm sorry, that was stupid, no questions asked right?"
Howell: "No, no. That wasn't stupid at all, there's nothing stupid about asking questions you know? Go on."
Reassurance, someone is actually willing to listen and not judge...But also, creepy. Weird, and unusual.
William: "Hah...You ever think there's more to life than just living?"
Howell: "I don't think we're alive at all."
William: "...Elaborate?"
Howell: "Well, I think the concept of living is relative. Living means being able to feel, love, sorrow, anger, hope, and even despair you know? Living and...moving are one with each other. The endless striving for more means you're alive...Unfortunately, I don't think anyone in this world is actually alive."
William: "...You really think no one is 'alive' in this world?"
Howell: "Yes, unfortunately. The world snubs away any light in a person's eyes."
William: "...Will any of this end, one day?"
Howell: "It'll end when we die, and that's probably the closest we can get to relief."
It comes back to me, images of what I did. Replaying again and again like an endless loop.
Did those people really want to die? Who was I to decide whether they should live or not? Was I right?
William: "Can I have another?" I said, gesturing at the box of cigarettes near Howell.
Howell: "Sure."
I took one out from the box, but I didn't light it right away. I sort of just....Blankly stare at it. Holding it close to my face, twisting and churning it with my fingers.
William: "...Thanks, man. You're unusually kind."
Howell: "Trust me, William. I'm really not."
Oh, I knew that. I've seen you burn entire cities alive. But this world is a den of monsters, you're at least just a wolf. Funny isn't it? How messed up the world can get that someone like you looks like a saint.
William: "Heh, I know I know. Just...In a world like this, you're comforting."
Howell: "Well, the least we can do in a messed up world like this is...Have a little dignity yeah?"
William: "...Hey, uhh by the way. What did the council say? About...What I did?" I said with a low voice.
I was referring to the time I sort of...Nuked an entire CSTF dispatch. I needed information, but almost no one knows how the council thinks, they're too secretive for some reason. So I turned to Howell, he may look like an ordinary schmuck, but he's a high ranking member of the ACEs council, the administrator.
Howell: "Well, I don't know if this is good or bad, but it seems they just...Don't care. You're allowed to sacrifice as many troops as you want it seems."
William: "..."
I was taken aback—Not. This is expected. As if the council would ever care for any lives taken.
William: "...Heh, that's expected. As if those pompous higher-ups would ever care—What do they even do huh? Just sit up their in that big palace thingy doing documents and stuff?"
Howell: "Well, that's basically what they're for."
William: "Remind me, Doc. Why are we doing all this again? You know, containing anomalies, maintaining the 'Script'?"
Howell: "Well, anomalies disrupt the script, and this world is governed by the script. You disrupt it, and well, everything just falls apart."
William: "yeah, I know that. But really, I guess my question is, what's the point of preserving the script when it's messed up? This world—it's a cesspool, really. Entire worlds burning down every day, wars, endless chaos and conflict and all of these? Enforced by the script. Why can't the script write something happier like cotton clouds or something, it's ridiculous isn't it?"
Howell: "I'm sure you're not the only who's thought of that before. Uhh may I?"
He says, pulling out one of the cigarettes from the box, gesturing for a lighter which I had in my pocket.
William: "Yeah, sure." I replied, compliantly handing over the lighter to him.
He lights up the cigarette, inhales, and exhales a puff of smoke. The sheer hollowness of this man's eyes frighten me for a moment, I've seen dead, but geez this man looks deader than a corpse.
Howell: "Hah...William, we're an institution of disposables, dedicated to the one cause of preserving the script. The script, is the ruleset of realities, it is what dictates what happens what has happened and what ever will happen. If it says you're gonna die in 7 days, you're gonna die in 7 days, that's all there is to it. Does that sound like a nice reality to you? Of course not. To the ACE, we don't matter, what we feel don't matter, what we think don't matter."
Howell yaps, spouting the harsh reality of it all, but his tone never changing and remaining polite and unwavering....Really, how does someone say that kind of stuff with a smile?
William: "...The script's just a heartless and indifferent bastard who doesn't care huh?....Geez man, couldn't you sugarcoat it even a little?"
Howell: "Heh!...Well, I figured you would call me names if I wasn't brutally honest."
William: "..Yeah, well, anyways. I'm heading off now, I'm just gonna go to the cafeteria. Take care of yourself."
Howell: "You too William."
I get up from my seat, turned to face the door, each step towards it was unbearably heavy, because I knew the things I had to go through again once I leave. The reason I'm moving anyways? Who knows.
William: "Oh, by the way Howell." I stopped right in front of the door, the doorknob in hand, I turned to look at Howell once more.
William: "...What do you think I should do?"
Howell leaned backwards on his chair, putting out the cigarette and answering with a smile.
Howell: "Yeah, I'm really not the guy you should ask about that."
William: "...I see. Well, anyways, bye."
I twisted the doorknob, exiting the room with a final wave of goodbye to Howell.
Looking in front of me, my eyes were met with the same things I've been seeing again and again for the last god knows how long.
It was a bunch of dudes, a cafeteria bustling with people, who does not look good in the slightest. Wounded dudes with a bunch of mutilations all over their body, all of them had their soul taken out of their vessel, some literally had their souls taken out of their vessel as piles of corpses are placed aside.
You could smell the stench all over the cafeteria, seriously, how do these people eat with that smell?
???: "Hey Lidenberge!"
William: "Wha-PFFT"
Before I could I was sent hurling forwards as a random guy decided to kick me from the back...Wish I could say that, but no, he's not a random guy.
William: "What the fu-Roland?"
I turn around to look, my eyes, my poor eyes met with the sight of this...Creature. Oh my god, I wanna vomit.
He wore a black suit, soaked in blood, he looked like he hadn't shaved in days as his beard and hair was overgrown. He had a...witch hat? What is that?
William: "Roland, you miserable punk. What do you want?"
Roland: "I wanna beat you up!"
The insufferable douche lunged forward, extending his leg for a kick. I dodge cuz I'm just that good, and swiftly counter by launching a punch aimed for his face.
He quickly blocks my fist with his right hand, boohoo. Preparing for a counter as he swats away my hand and pivots his foot to the ground for a tackle, a clumsy and inexperienced tackle I might add.
I promptly dodged his weak slow charge by stepping to the left, countering with a kick to his side.
He groans like a wild boar, grabbing my foot which was still extended, pulling me right into his punch. It connects, his fist colliding with my face. I grab his balls(Yes we're fighting dirty now)
he grunts even more now, then bam! I punch his face, knocking him unconscious.