"Yo, Bot."
[YES.]
"In my stat sheet, it reads: Level 1 (17/100)."
[YES.]
"I've killed about 17 beasts so far. After being chosen, of course."
[YES.]
"So, after Messiah was chosen by whatever, he too got his skills. Like me—ones from the blessing. Right?"
[POTENTIALLY.]
"Oh, c'mon, Bot. He's a chosen one... Anyway, everybody only gets their skill after leveling up, right?"
[YES.]
"My doubt is: will I get a skill? Is 'Hard Skin'—or whatever the fuck it's called—Messiah's evolution skill or his blessing skill?"
[I DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO CONFIRM THE SOURCE OF MESSIAH ATE'S SKILL. REGARDLESS, LEVELING UP WILL UNEARTH YOUR INHERENT SKILL.]
"That's super cool... Bot, do you want to gossip a bit?"
[I WILL RESPOND.]
"Good bot. But that response made me not want to gossip with you."
[APOLOGIES.]
"Baby, don't cry now. Chill, I'll gossip."
[I DO NOT COMPREHEND YOUR DIALOGUE.]
"Bitch, I'm like that. Incompre-hensible. I ooze mystery and charm."
[YOUR STATEMENT IS CORRECT. YOUR DIALOGUE IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE.]
"Hahaha, you've got good comedic timing."
[THANK YOU. BUT MY RESPONSES ARE NOT AIMED AT THAT.]
"Okay, Bot. Your lame ass lost me now."
*****
The squad in Joonboy Enclave was back together.
They were exhausted. Knackered.
So, it was break time now.
The clock in the apartment they'd crashed into read 11:30 AM. They'd been at it for around two hours.
"Oh hell, I've only killed around a dozen. It's bloody tiring!"
Hut exclaimed, panting like a tired dog.
"Who asked you two experts to start grinding together?"
Bright rebutted.
Get a load of these two. Fuckers started killing at the same time. What happened to the I-help-you-help policy!?
"Ah, Bright, dude. Don't call it grinding."
Zaire exclaimed exasperatedly.
"Haha. But am I wrong, though? Nala's already at her 77th kill."
"Holy fuck! 77th? Jesus. Alright. Help us now, Bright."
It was Sean, who—like his partner—was panting and guzzling liters of milk.
"Cool with me. I mean, fuck me, Zaire, you pack some serious heat, bro. You alone will be enough to get Nala to 100."
Bright commented with bright eyes.
"Thanks. I mean, yeah. You can go help them."
Zaire acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a smile.
"Cool, cool. By the way, Zaire and Nala—I had some private matters to discuss with you two."
It was Bright.
"Cool, then. Me and Sean will prepare rations. Giddy up, Seany."
Shrugging, Hut nudged Sean.
Bright was one of Messiah's closest confidants. Although there was no rigid, drawn-out hierarchy, the survivors of the League more or less knew their positions.
Sean and Hut at least knew that Bright was above them.
*****
Sean and Hut had left to fill two duffel bags in the adjacent rooms.
The disheveled room 309, B Block, now held only three people.
Zaire and Nala sat side by side, and the bright-eyed Bright sat facing them.
"Look at the milk. They spilled so much, sigh."
Bright complained.
Zaire, looking at the mess Sean had created, chuckled.
"So, what's the deal, Bright?"
It was Nala.
"Okay, I'll spill it. I've noticed you two don't seem to like Sir Messiah that much. I mean, don't get me twisted—I think the weird fascination others feel toward him is what I find weird... Don't you?"
Zaire's mind started making a noise—like an old static TV.
Whoa! Is Bright cool?
Nah, he's probably just doing Messiah's bidding.
But wait—he suspects mal-intent from Messiah's part. Maybe after the recent discovery of skills, he connected the dots?
Nah, maybe after evolving, Messiah got stronger. Even if he tells someone about himself being shady, in a hypothetical manner, they'll just shrug it off. They don't suspect him?
Possibly not, right? Bright's a cool dude. Period. If we can connect more and corner Messiah, now's the chance. Maybe the only chance.
Zaire felt his shoulder move.
It was Nala, lightly nudging him with her head.
Zaire chuckled. He knew what that meant.
You're overthinking, Zaire—in her deadpan voice.
"What!? That's some crazy thing you just said, Bright. Why would we not be fond of Sir Messiah??... Wait—do you feel something's wrong with him?"
Nala took the wheel of the conversation. She said the last part with squinted eyes.
I'm looking at you suspiciously, boy.
Zaire wanted to crack up. But he controlled himself.
Of course, he took Nala's alley-oop and slammed it home.
"Whoa! What the fuck, Bright? Why on God's green earth would you be suspicious of Sir Messiah!? You say the most baffling shit sometimes."
Bright looked at their explosively defensive reactions.
Then he let out a long sigh.
SIGHHH...
Bright looked at the ceiling. He let out another sigh—brief and short.
Sigh.
Finally, he groaned,
"Thank God."
Then, looking at the two of them, he beamed.
"You know, Sir Messiah and Amelia really thought you two were some kind of... defectors. I talked to you two, right? So I know you better. I told them they were just... tripping. Finally, we settled on a deal. I test you two. And you two passed. Hahaha, they'll regret doubting my judgment from now on, hahaha."
"Are you not saying these things to swerve off what you said earlier?"
Zaire demanded sternly.
It was an act. The real Zaire? Well, he felt a sting of pain in his heart.
He'd liked this Bright guy. But looks like he's far gone.
Fuck, Messiah.
"Nah, man! Look—here's a tape recorder, too. It recorded our whole conversation, Zaire... Anyway, enough chit-chat. Let's go help Hut and Sean."