The chandelier light is now bright with white light, illuminating a large table. A variety of alcoholic drinks and ashtrays lay about it. Mella, Villbrand, Fabio, and Claire are on one side of the table. On the other side stands Deacon, Sara, Miun, and Jacky. The others watch in silence as Jacky engages with Claire.

“I understand why things had to play out the way they did. I wish I could have known more about what was to come; I should have expected as much as, to begin with. I do not hold you accountable for what has happened thus far. It is beyond us both.”

Jacky looks sincerely into Claire’s eyes; she crosses her arms and leans back onto the kitchen counter; with a sigh of relief, she pulls out a pack of smokes and lights up. Jacky does the same.

“Thank you for understanding, Jacky,” Claire says, blowing the smoke away from the group. “Now, moving forward.” Villbrand sets a suitcase on the table.

“Go ahead and open it up. These are your new and refined bracelets, or as what the committee calls them, Howlers.”

“Howlers?” Sara questions.

“Yes. Howlers. When one dies, usually they uh scream or….yell, right? I’ve seen what happens to those whose souls are consumed by their horrors. It looks painful. Anyways.” Sara opens up the suitcase. Villbrand picks up one of the Howlers.

“These are slightly different than the previous models you all wore before the first floor. First off, you can see how many “Strikes” you have in the upper right of the screen. No more forgetting where you’re at if you for some reason forgot how many strikes you have either as a team or individually, which brings me to the next feature. The team gauge is at the upper left. Mella will explain why you all share strikes hereafter, explaining the device's functionality. The next feature is that this Howler operates as a communication device between you all and our Howlers as well.” Sara tilts her head.

“You all have Howlers?” Each manager pulls their sleeves up; they’re all wearing almost identical formal wear. Each handler has a Howler attached to their person.” Deacon perks up at the sight of their situation.

“So…it seems…we're all truly….” Deacon heaves up a cough. “In this together…then?”

“Precisely,” Villbrand says. “Now, amongst those features, that covers the basics. Any objectives you may have, such as during an event where you must, let’s say, retrieve seven orbs, for example, that will be viewable here on your Howler. Otherwise, that sums up your new “toys.”

Mella steps forward and leans onto the table between the two groups. Villbrand tosses the Howler to Sara. She begins putting it on. Jacky and the rest do the same, latching the bands and small buckles into place; they all fit smoothly over each wrist. Deacon offers to help Miun figure hers out. Thus far, it appears Miun hasn’t paid attention to a single thing Villbrand has said.

“Now, I will explain your purpose to you here on the second floor. Starting with the team gauge on your Howler.” Mella leans into the kitchen table; the rings on her fingers make a metallic thud. “Some events may cause the entire team to bear a strike based on the actions of another team member. One example may be that Deacon and another opponent fight, Deacon loses the match, so the penalty is a team strike. Once that gauge on your Howler fills, the entire team will perish along with their handlers.” Jacky and the others share a look.

“It appears that your job is to coach us as well as possible otherwise, our loss belongs to all those involved,” Jacky says, adjusting his coat.

“Correct,” Mella says. “We are responsible for making sure you make the right decisions throughout this journey. For the most part, individual strikes are earned the same way as before. Each individual gets three strikes. Upon receiving the third strike, you will be terminated. The team gauge will also suffer when one team member reaches their third strike. Only one of you may remain at the end of this journey. If we all play our cards right, that won’t happen. Any questions?”

Jacky nods his head. “Yes. What happens to you if only one of us dies?” Claire takes one last drag on her smoke and tosses it into one of the ashtrays.

“Then the handler responsible for that individual will also perish. We share strikes. So if you get a strike Jackey, so do I.” Jacky takes a deep breath and crosses his arms.

“Makes sense. Do we get our own stadium just like before? I remember meeting about all sorts of publicity stunts and making us out to be merchandise. Is that all still the same?” Claire nods.

“Yes. Your stadium Jacky, 1066, was moved up to here. 1066 will be team Sacrifices' main stadium. You’ll use it to train and prepare for “home battles.” Other times, you’ll be sent to other teams' stadiums for “away matches.” There might be times when you’ll need to be interviewed by the press or interact with your fans. It’s quite difficult to put into perspective, but some people live on this floor with almost no idea anything goes on below them. Generations of people have lived solely on this floor. Even the richest individuals have no idea the kind of game being played. Many know what horrors are, obviously, but almost no one understands the intricacies of these bouts. Even us handlers know very little. As you’ll see outside here, you can no longer see the warpath from anywhere on this floor past the barrier to the city. And any mention of such will bring great consequences. The people here are intentionally blind for a reason. We act like everything is good; this is just a sport.”

This information weighs heavy on everyone's mind. There is silence, silent rage in Jacky and Sara. Jacky clenches his fist.

“You’re saying that here, everyone lives practically normal lives? While millions below suffer. How is it even possible to hide this from such a large populace?”

“That’s correct. The committee has its way. Brainwashing its citizens into believing this is the only place to live. They do a good job at it too. Trying to tell the press about the truth will get you nowhere. I’ve been told stories about what happens when someone even thinks about it. Just a quick flash of white light, and nobody witnessing even questions it. Almost as if the population is under some sort of “spell” or illusion.”

Now things are making more sense. The angels of death, their purpose, I understand now.

What is it?

It should have been evident to me earlier. Devotion and worship. They are under a spell, alright. The people here, it seems, for more than a few generations, I would argue for centuries even. The people who try to follow along have been brainwashed here. They worship the angels in some way or another. This committee is far more powerful than any human structure or creation I’ve ever seen in your world. This entire floor feels more like one substantial I.V drip for power. Put simply, The people are more or less mind-controlled and convinced they are living everyday lives. And thus, their blind obedience and enjoyment of our death games give power to the Angels of death. Somehow. It’s very complicated. I wouldn’t expect the people here even to act “normal.”

It’s starting to make sense. Each floor serves a purpose outside the warpath. In the slums, it’s overpopulated, and not everyone has a horror. To get onto the first floor, you have to have won your matches. It seems the first floor has the highest concentration of horrors. Everybody there is a user, and the whole place functions as such. People will try to live normal lives, but everyone eventually dies or moves on. Once here, It’s more straightforward. You fight, you keep fighting until you advance up the Warpath or?

Perish

Exactly. Do you think every floor will be drastically different from one another?

Possibly. I know that angels of death do not require so much devotion. Many are being used for their powers of control. This floor most likely functions as essential for the Angels and other resources for you humans passed all across the Warpath.

So how do you know so much about these Angels anyways?

My clan, long ago, sacrificed themselves to defend our castle from an invasion. I don’t know why they came, but I was taught many things during the war and found out as much as possible from possessing various humans throughout history. We’re mortal enemies, and I know everything there is to know about them.

You know how to kill them, don’t you?

I do…

But it would help if you had all your power back. So all we need to do is keep moving up the Warpath, and eventually, we can begin making a change.

We keep playing the game for now; then, when they least expect it, we change the rules and start playing our own game.

It sounds like we both truly have a purpose together now more than ever.

“Jacky? Hello? Jacky!” Sara snaps in front of Jacky's face. Jacky blinks a few times and looks up at everyone.

“Sorry, I was thinking about something.” Jacky cracks his neck.

“Heh…You can…do…it too…can’t you…?” Deacon smiles faintly, then turns his attention back to the handlers.

Fabio was explaining something as Jacky tuned out. He continues to explain simplistic rules such as not being late to matches and scheduled events. Never summon your horror in public etc. Jacky listens to the Handlers closing statements. Fabio gestures to the Howlers.

“Remember, if you need anything, you can call us. For now, you have one week to rest and train for your next assignment. You’re authorized to explore the city and enjoy its many amenities. The odd community aside, it's not a bad place overall. There are bars, theaters, and events. Enjoy yourselves when you can. We will be at 1066 three days from now. Meet us there so we can brief you on your next event. We do not know what it is, but we will then.”

“Any specific time to be there?” Sara says.

“Early morning, use your better judgment.” Fabio adjusts his suit and looks the group over. “Any other questions?” Jacky shakes his head.

“Not from me. I’ll excuse myself. I need to take a shower.”

Fabio nods his head. “I suggest you all take care of yourselves. Goodnight”

The rest of the handlers gather themselves and depart down the hallway. The elevator door makes a metallic sound as they each enter. It closes, and the whirring sound of the elevator moving echoes through the walls. Jacky makes his way to the other side of the suite. Four rooms, each labeled for each member of the team. Inside Jacky’s room are a nice bed, a large chest, and his bathroom. He undresses and enters the shower; his bare feet make a sticky sound as his skin touches the smooth cold floor. The mirror begins to fog. He leans forward and allows the water to drench his head.