• Slowly, I opened my eyes, expecting to take in the bright, clear light of morning, of Heaven. But, I quickly noticed that the sky was a deep gray, with smoldering white stars watching the lonely place this was. I was laying in a street, my shirt and pants now a mixture of red, and the color of garbage. I pushed myself up to sit against the dark brick wall, seeing a metal staircase long since rusted by the grime and dampness of the alley. I sighed inwardly at my situation, now that the strange tingling sensation of lunacy had all but vanished from my system, a creeping urgency to crawl into a corner and die, unwanted. But instead, I struggled to my feet, still unaccustomed to ground since my decent, and almost slipped on the sludge as it eased into the creases of my feet. I scowled at the discomfort, asking myself why I shouldn't crawl into a corner and die. I had no answer to that.

    It was then that I noticed I wasn't alone, and as soon as the men (I could only assume that was what they were) had seen that I'd acknowledged them, the one in front practically glided over to me, his feet hardly visible against the dark clothing he wore. When he pulled his hood from his face, I saw pale blue eyes against his ghastly white face. Despite his ghostly appearance, his full lips stretched widely across his teeth, giving me a friendly smile. "Hello there, who might you be?" His voice was slow; like he was talking to someone that needed special attention. I composed my face, which was scattered, my thoughts from the last few minutes still jarring my emotions, and answered in a clear, stable voice.
    "Number Seven, sector 16, WACH," I answered the only name I'd ever been called, other than Aarie, the nick-name for Aariinam.
    "Sixteen you say?" His question was marred with curiosity and disbelief. He obviously knew authority.
    "Yes, of the Archangels. Sentenced three weeks prior to execut-" I couldn't get the word out, my teeth clenched at the truth of my statement. I shook my head, thinking once again of the reasons to this. Did the hierarchy know of this life? Or did it only happen so often? Who were the men in plain black robes, in this strange setting?. A stupid question popped into my head, Where's the man with the black hair? I instantly wiped that from my head, how irrelevant. I heard a slight snicker from the group standing unanimously behind the speaker, who's name I didn't catch. It came from a younger man, his body slender, and his lips thin. His mouth curled into a devil-like smile, though it was a look of clear delight. His clothes were a white long-sleeved shirt, unnaturally clean, and almost brown khaki pants, extremely baggy, making his thin legs look even thinner. His hair was unruly, reaching shoulder length, and pure black, while his eyes, dancing with glee, were a tawny color. I stared at him, the man I'd seen in the hall, as his cheerful glare became to much to handle and he laughed outright, a large, yet delicate sound that seemed to screech through the alley and into the street.