Nothing of immediate importance stood out about the building they found themselves taking shelter within. Long, narrow hallways, marbled floors, maroon walls neatly decorated by framed canvases of animals─a dog playing catch in the backyard, cats lounging around in a house, hummingbirds dancing over flowers─they all seemed so kind and vibrant at first. The further they went down the line, the more grotesque the pictures became─a pack of wolves hunting a deer, cheetahs violently tearing into a gazelle, the dark side of nature many often turn a blind eye to, a side Noah and the others witnessed firsthand not too long ago.

       A majority collapsed on the living room's welcoming carpet and couches as the first few signs of the storm began to hit, the consistent strokes of lightning and crashes of thunder, that lovely sound of rain against roof-tiles which had an almost mystic effect that put a few to sleep instantly. It was still technically morning. Most had been too disturbed by the events that so abruptly unfolded to get a decent sleep─others felt all too relieved to finally be free of their cramped cells, to finally be able to get a proper rest for once under the shelter of a roof. Those weeks spent struggling to survive in cages were tough.

       Noah took a seat in the far corner distant of everyone else who huddled around the warmth of the recently lit fireplace, attentive as Rylan laid out a plan. Despite his warning prior to their engagement, they were still caught in the rain; Noah felt the chill begin to work its way through his body which, combined with winter, practically froze him solid. He took off his trench coat and hung it on the arm sleeve of a nearby chair, exposing the pecs of his bare chest and torso. He wasn't fortunate enough in his earlier endeavor to land a shirt, not that it really mattered in the first place. The trench coat was more than just warm─it had been extremely comfortable. He truly hated parting with it, no matter how temporary it would be.

       He slipped off his boots and gave a weary eye to his fresh, soft socks. For a moment, the feeling of comfort they brought felt so surreal, like his feet had melted off and flew to foot heaven, if there was such a thing. Noah shook his head at how stupid the expression sounded in his head. Put simply, after all those weeks spent cold, dirty, and bare to the bone, he felt reborn, even if he couldn't experience the warmth of the fire firsthand. Rylan had even begun distributing rations to those in his circle; fruits and other assortments, Rosary close at his side, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. It was clear she took a particular liking to him.

       One boy, Parker, as Noah believed he was called, poured a few cans of beef stew into a kettle that simmered perfectly over the fireplace, patiently awaiting as the sweet smell of real food began to work its way into the noses of everyone around, a conversation of stomachs following shortly after. Even Noah felt his mouth water but bit his lip in reversion, deciding that it was probably for the best to rest up as well. He'd need every bit of energy he could possibly muster if he was to strike out on his own as soon as the storm passed over. From the disapproving glares to the hostile grimaces, it was pretty evident that people didn't want him around─nor did he feel compelled to stay. He survived while locked in a cage for a month with no one to rely on but himself. Compared to that, everything else felt like a walk in the park.

       Noah brought his knees up close and began to hug himself, silently listening on as laughter and chatter eventually began to overtake the stillness of the house. He closed his eyes in a transitory attempt to forget it all, to stare profoundly into that abyss that governed his memories, one that stared back deeply into his soul, began to absorb him; he jumped when something eventually shook him free of the nightmare, watched as a bowl of stew was eagerly presented before him, the vibrant bluish gaze that ushered him to take it. Noah did so, taking careful sips as he felt the liquid gradually begin to warm his insides, a sensation he savored with each sip.

"You should slow down a bit," Lilly gave a playful smile as she took a seat beside Noah, giggling slightly. "I can always get you seconds if you want."

The stew was gone before Noah had even realized it. Although it was nowhere near enough to quell his stomach, it was still something, and he was grateful. "Thanks. I really needed that."

"Glad to hear it," Lilly didn't miss a beat. She withdrew something from her pockets as she narrowed her gaze onto his nose. "You should let me have a look at that. I fear it might be broken."

"You actually know what you're doing?"

"Maybe. I can't really explain it."

Noah furrowed a brow, obediently doing as Lilly ordered when she grew impatient of his silence with feigned anger.

The leniency of her voice made it hard to actually take her seriously, and she gave him a weary grin upon further, more painful inspection. "Good news is that it's not broken."

"And...?" Noah ushered her to fill in the silence she so carelessly left hanging.

Lilly's smile slowly began to fade. "The bad news─is that you got hurt because of me." Her gaze fell silently onto the floor, her hands idle at her side. "All I wanted was for the two of you to stop fighting, but maybe I should have taken into consideration the selfishness behind my actions. I am truly sorry for any pain I might have caused you." And it was indeed a genuine apology, made more apparent by the tears she struggled to keep at bay.

       Noah didn't know what to say exactly, secretly feared that maybe his words would make things worse, hoped to somehow have the situation magically alleviated. Even without the aid of his memories he knew he didn't fare well when it came to dealing with girls. And surely enough, his plea was answered by a stone-faced figure more upset than helpful.

"I came over here to offer a helping hand and this is what I find," Miles' tenor grew cold. "That's pitiful, man. Making a girl cry like this."

"Pitiful," Noah felt as if someone had asked him to grow wings and fly. "Wait. You think this is my fault?"

"No one else's around to blame this on. Just how low are you willing to stoop?"

"I'm not stooping anywhere! This isn't my fault!" He continued playing defensive.

But Miles wasn't buying it. "Just be honest with yourself, man. This is all your fault. First Rylan. Now this."

Noah gave himself the heaviest facepalm in the history of facepalms. "I swear, it's like everyone I talk to is a brick."

       Lilly intervened before the conversation could continue, apologizing for the misunderstanding, her tears more profound for getting Noah in further trouble. It was almost hard to believe such a good-natured person existed. Noah hadn't spotted her cage during the height of it all, but how someone like her managed to survive was a true mystery to his conscious; after somehow managing to calm Lilly down, the three of them continued their chatter with a lofty debate on protein.

"Rabbits tasted way better. No contest." Noah gave the two of them a triumphant smirk. "I'm sure with this thing you guys call seasoning, it would've made history in the gourmet world." It felt strange listening to words like gourmet roll so casually off his tongue, despite not knowing what it actually meant.

       His memory only allotted him bits and pieces of a world he once knew, flashes that aroused more questions than answers, never giving him enough insight to the bigger picture that loomed beyond. It was as if someone had intentionally tampered with his mind, only allowed him to recall the certain bits and pieces they wanted him to remember. Noah mentally shook his head to the sheer impossibility at such a feat.

"How could you be so cruel?" Questioned Lilly, her gaze intently focused within his. "Rabbits are far too cute to be treated in such a savage manner!"

Noah's response to her assertiveness was a simple sigh; they may have looked better than other animals, but it didn't stop them from being eaten in much the same way. "It was do or die, and I did whatever it took to get by. How'd you manage?"

Lilly hesitated, something flashing behind her glare for only a split instance, there one second then gone the next. "I managed like everyone else, of course."

If Miles took notice, he didn't let it be known that he did. His smile grew wide as he slapped Noah roughly on the back, "I think the big question that needs asking here is how you managed to stay solid on your feet after taking that right hook Rylan gave you. I saw it graze your chin."

"Luck. Pure and simple." He didn't miss a beat.

"Luck doesn't stop a guy from getting laid out by hooks as vicious as that one. Takes discipline."

"Discipline," Noah repeated, watching as Miles nodded silently in response. He appeared to be implying there was something behind it all, a reason why Rylan's hook only shook him a bit─but it all sounded extremely stupid to Noah's ears, wasted thoughts and words. It really was just a pure stroke of coincidental luck. Nothing more.

It wasn't long before Rylan governed the center of everyone's attention once more; he had been carefully scanning through the weapons crate Hugo hauled back, of which he currently held a silver briefcase within his hands.

He opened the briefcase to reveal it had been stocked full with precisely eighteen cellular devices, touch-screened phones, each of which had names carved onto the back of them─they were distributed out by Rosary as per Rylan's orders, who did as she was told without question. Upon having his in hand, Noah discovered a number and wording written under his name.

#0
The Violent Winds of Change

       He couldn't help but wonder what it meant; Lilly's number was three, although she swiftly snuggled her phone within her pocket long before Noah could read the rest─Miles had been gifted with the number five, something about being 'The Gentle Harbinger of Chaos'. It all made little sense, although a few seemed excited to discover Rylan was number one, he a true glutton for glory.

Rylan discovered a strip of paper at the suitcase's bottom once everyone held their phones in hand. A few huddled in close to read its contents as he read them aloud.

You all are what remains of F-Class, #22.
Trials will be given periodically through your phones.
You have a total of twenty-four hours to complete each task.
Failure to complete a task results in an immediate death via the collars around your necks.
Ranking last on any task results in an immediate death.

Refusal to participate results in an immediate death.
Attempts at escape results in an immediate death.
You are free to do whatever is necessary to survive in-between tasks.
The entirety of Manhattan is your war-zone.

Supplies will be delivered via airdrop once even two months.
Only one class may win. Good luck.
~NEST~