What little respect Johnny had for me had surely deteriorated by then.
From the corner of my eye, I watched his eyes widen to oblivion.
I may have acted rashly as though I was prepared for it to resort to violence, but, truthfully, I was not.
I am no martial artist or trained assassin. Factually, I was scared shitless.
I disliked pain.
But, what's different with Johnny and I is that I am not afraid to die or to hurt anyone.
That doesn't make me a martial artist, though,
I was always good at make-pretending. As a child, my teacher had once told me that I would make a great actor.
Trotting slowly towards the man with mid-length hair, in time, the muzzle had pressed onto the bridge of my nose.
"Shoot, you fool. Then, shoot the intern."
I intentionally did not use Johnny's name so that they may not think we were close.
Once in a while, Johnny and I would have lunch together during his internship at this hospital. So, perhaps, that was why he was so pissed off at me for killing that monster child. He had respect for me and I destroyed that.
A dribble of sweat dropped from the man's face. Fortunately, I was the type to perspire in the back when I was nervous.
We stared at each other for a minute and the moments to come. His eyes were dark blue, I noted, and had a small pupil, showing off the color of his eye, making it difficult to sometimes differentiate from black or blue. His skin was rough, with the proof of where acne once infected his face. He tossed his hair as most long-haired girls would do, except he's a man. That was obvious from his deep voice. Putting the fact that he had feminine features aside, he had a sharp jawline and nose. He's the type that I'd see as a reference for art or on television. He had piercings: a helix with a silver ring and multiple lobes with the same jewelry.
With his body beginning to shiver, he bit his lip until it dripped blood down his chin.
The man looked at the lady and, in quiet agreement, dropped the gun.
Walking away, she said:
"Well, aren't you a brave one?"
Then tossing her hair that was the same length as the man.
-
Johnny and I sat across from the man and women who introduced themselves as Harry Donovan and Junhan Jang respectively in a limousine.
Though the interior of the car seemed luxurious, with aged white recliners that had cup holders on each side, and, on my left, had iced bottles of alcohol, and, to my right, rusty cans of beer that Harry had begun to slurp out of, you could tell that the limousine was nearly doddering.
The exterior only must have been pristine because of the rain that happened earlier.
There was no conversation, only dead silence as we ventured towards their headquarters.
Once in a while, Harry, head resting on his own forearm, would rise from his slumber and mutter "...quiet…!" and Junhan would simply stare out of the window.
"...ouk!" Harry choked on his saliva and was immediately hit on the stomach by the swift Junhan.
He awoke. "What year is it?"
"What year is it, indeed," responded Junhan, eyeing Harry before turning to me. "What year is it, Schneider?"
I supposed she didn't have a choice on who to ask; Johnny was fast asleep on my shoulder.
Never mind that. I don't ever recall introducing myself to them. While they did introduce themselves and Johnny reciprocated, I did not. Johnny could not have told them, for he, despite my actions, had stuck closely to me like a sweet potato's sap.
This Junhan Jang, I didn't particularly like her. For one, not only did she speak ambiguously, she also looked ambiguous. I could not tell if she was friends with Harry or if they were enemies. I also could not tell if she was against me or on our side.
I became quite a storyteller in college and often did I take my characters from real life. As most storytellers do. So it was rare for me to not understand a person's character or personality.
I got that from my elder brother, I thought, reminiscing.
I figured something out, though: she must be the one leading.
She gave off that vibe, is all.
After a pause, I responded:
"Nineteen eighty-nine."
"Not as far as I thought. On our earth—our country was named Germania—it was the year two thousand and twenty-six."
"Is that so?"
"And!" interrupted Harry who suddenly awoke with a bellowing voice. Then, in a quieter voice: "The world had ended there already."
I nodded deeply.
"And this one," said Harry, hand gesturing, "is on the brink of ending. Actually, it had already ended now that the scenarios began."
"Rounds," corrected Junhan. "We had something called constellations there. They were the devils, I swear to god."
"G…God..?"
Johnny muttered as he awoke.
"I'm sorry," said I, ruffling Johnny's head to make him go back to sleep. "In our world, the gods have fallen. We only believe in—"
"Angels," uttered Harry. "The nephilim."
I affirmed with a nod.
Harry hummed.
"You know, we had angels as constellations too. Constellations watched our every move through screens. They watched us as we killed our comrades, our loved ones, and as we fucked!"
He raised a can of rusty beer patriotically.
"That's not it," Harry moved on. "We weren't the only ones. I met a man named Mongrel. His world was the same—ended. Instead of scenarios or rounds, though, his world had nightmares or dream realms or whatever. I'm not too sure.
"I don't remember his face anymore."
Harry took a swig of beer, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he did so. "May the Word be kind to him."
"One thing is certain, though," he said. "Imperfect we may be, we will defeat whoever comes our way. We only need to grow stronger. Cogito ergo doleo!"
I consumed his words and his story, but I would never understand his or Junhan's pain
I who had lived privileged could never understand their pain.
They had possibly gone through a lot. Losing their comrades, making new ones, and losing them again.
Sensing that the conversation was over, I looked outside the window.
The stories they tell…the memories they hold, they are all painful.
Really. To remember is to be punished.
It makes me question if I should've let Harry shoot me that moment.
From here on, I was bound to lose and to kill.
And eventually, I am bound to die.