"Open it! Let us out!!!"
"Have you lost your damn minds? How is an elevator shaft supposed to save you from a nuclear blast?"
He shook his head, glancing at the timer on the detonator.
"55… 54" the seconds dragged.
'I should pick a song for the last seconds of my life…' he thought indifferently, feeling for the player on his belt.
The panoramic windows looked straight out onto the cloud level. The first orange rays of dawn were seeping through the sky.
The perfect atmosphere to bring everything to an end.
"You bastard!!! You just had to turn a blind eye to it! Hold out for just a couple of years, and no one would have doubted that you'd become the next leader!"
Twelve old men in suits crowded around the single elevator and frantically pressed the call button.
Numbers were displayed on the left side of their chests. A number within the top twenty ranks.
These numbers weren't simple; in fact, they were the reason for everything.
Simply put, the lower the number, the more powerful the person's position.
But none of that matters anymore.
*48… 47*
"…You know, I've never smoked in my life. Maybe now's the right time to try?"
"Bastard!!!"
A man who looked far too young compared to these old men. He was barely in his twenties, and now he sat alone at the head of the long table.
In his left hand was an old music player, and under his right—a detonator with a countdown. On his black jacket was the number "43."
"How… How could you…" As the numbers ticked away rapidly, some of the old men began to weep.
Pleas, threats, and everything else were a thing of the past. They had been replaced by acceptance and despair. After all, there was no off switch on the detonator, and the bomb had been planted at the very bottom of the tower.
"I remember, years ago, I started here as a simple intern? No, wait, I think I was a janitor… And here I am. I've climbed to the very top, and I am going to destroy it with my own hands. Pretty symbolic, don't you think?"
"Go to hell with your symbolism!!!"
The balding old man with the number 2 on his jacket couldn't take it anymore. He lunged at the table, trying to reach him.
"Easy there…" He casually pointed the gun at him, forcing the old man to freeze. "Funny, isn't it?" We're all about to turn to dust, and you're still afraid of a simple gun.
*38… 37*
"I'll… I'll…"
"I know it was you, Number Two… Albert. It was all you and your schemes."
"…"
"You initiated the development of the drug. You wormed your way into my mother's trust—my last remaining relative. Your people infected her… You made sure she'd never recover and would suffer in a hospital bed until her very last breath."
"You… You're just a nobody! You were a janitor! I've worked here almost my whole life, but that old bastard decided to give the top job to you, not me. What else could I have done?!"
"Mmm… Well, I don't really care. You see, I'm busy choosing my final song. There are so many good options, I don't know which one to pick."
"You bastard! Just because your mother rotted away, you decided to destroy everything! You're a damn psycho!"
"Psycho? You know, I prefer the word villain."
*29… 28*
"You're a monster… Do you have any idea how many people will die? You'll be the worst monsters in human history!"
"Oh, really? Well then… So what?"
"…"
"So what does it matter, Albert? In my whole life, I've never hurt a soul, but what good did that do? I just wanted a better life for my family… And look where that got me. I've reached the summit I've always dreamed of, but I'm standing here all alone. None of this has any meaning anymore."
With the gun leveled, he moved closer to the old man's face.
"Do you know what the only desire left in my empty heart is? To burn everything to the ground, along with you, what you've built, and me. I want it all to end."
"Y-you…"
"Whether you've killed a million people or saved a million people… When you're dead, it doesn't matter anymore. You're just a corpse."
"…"
"Now light the damn cigarette for me. And if you believe in God, start praying."
He placed a lit cigarette in the mouth of Number 43. A few seconds later, the old man knelt like in prayer.
*13*
"Phew…" he exhaled smoke, barely managing to suppress a cough. "So that's why people do this… Well, there's definitely something to it."
He put on his wired headphones, finally no longer hearing the moans and roars of the old men.
There was no time left to choose a song.
*Click.* He simply pressed the play button.
It would play the last track.
"Phew…" taking another drag, he sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the table.
The melody in his ears began to grow louder as the rays of dawn fell on his face.
His reflection held no special expression or sorrowful expression, like that of an old man, for example. He just looked tired.
'Ah, I wish I could pet a cat right now…' he thought, taking the last drag of his life.
Finally, he realized what song was playing on his player.
It was his mother's player, which meant this song was the last one she had listened to in her life.
That realization made him smile a little.
And the song itself…
"Well, for an ending, it's not that ba…"
*BEEEEEEEP!!!* A piercing squeak came from the detonator.
He didn't even hear the sound.
For a split second, a white flash filled his vision… And then only darkness.
Not even a speck remained of him…
And it was perfect.
"Your dream is over. It's time to wake up, my… Champion." Until that voice called out to him.
...
"Your challenge awaits you."