MOBA Game Apocalypse-Chapter 204: Oh

"What… is this place?"

Most plants were dead. Only ferns and algae had survived. The ceiling itself, which was clearly trying to imitate the sky, had lost several panels and light fixtures, leaving dark square gaps where wiring dangled.

And the air… the air was heavy. Jimmy covered his face with both hands, squinting through watering eyes.

"The humidity's insane," he said.

"You didn't know about this place?"

"No." Jimmy shook his head fast. "I didn't even know it existed. And it's..."

He stared up, turning slowly. "This has to be at least four thousand square meters. More than half a football field. How does something this big exist under a military base without anyone knowing? This was also probably built at the same time as everything else."

"Hm…" Adam breathed out again and started walking across the moldy jungle. Dead leaves crumbled under his boots. Branches snapped and fell as he brushed past them.

"E-eep!" Jimmy followed, stumbling over roots, swatting at the fern that grabbed at his ankles.

Then they reached the end of the dead trees.

A clearing opened before them, and Jimmy stopped breathing.

"This… is a street?"

It looked like a small countryside street. Pavement, cracked and overtaken by moss. Tiny houses on either side—no, not houses. Structures. Made to look like houses. Single-story, with shuttered windows and pitched roofs, their paint faded to nothing.

A wooden bench sat in front of one, rotted halfway through. Even the lamp posts looked rotten next to what seemed like a… small garden?

"Why is something like this here?" Jimmy muttered. "And why is it... abandoned?"

Adam looked around. The small cobblestone path. The fake houses. The bench. The lamp post. The garden bed that someone had once tended.

And all at once, the numbness he'd been carrying in his chest—that hollow, dead thing that had been resting inside him since he'd walked through the elevator doors… slowly began to dissipate.

He went quiet for a moment as he looked around, his eyes almost trembling.

"It…" he whispered. "This is for me."

"Huh?"

"It was for me."

Jimmy looked at Adam's face and saw something change for the first time since they'd met. The blankness he had on his face since they met cracked. He wasn't smiling, however, nor was it really anything Jimmy recognized.

Adam's thoughts, however, were in complete disarray.

He built you a bigger cage, Adam. No, a home? A home away from the rest of the world? What was she actually trying to do here? Was she trying to keep you here, so that you could somewhat live a normal life… even if caged?

Adam's fingers started to move on their own.

What… sort of life would you have had here? What sort of fucked-up form of love was she trying to build? Did she think you were some kind of… bird? Why did she go through all of this effort? Why… why did she abandon this? Why did she abandon you? Why does she detest you so much that she would build two cages for you?

Adam's jaw tightened, and his eyes once again moved across the little street. He stood in front of the stood in the middle of the street, sighing heavily as he stared at his feet on the cracked ground.

"D—" Jimmy was about to say something, but a figure stepped out from one of the dilapidated houses.

No. Three people.

The first was a broad man in a dark suit—the same kind of suit Bjorn used to wear. And very much like Bjorn, his hair was sleeked back. The second was shorter, casual clothes, a polo shirt untucked over obviously expensive pants, eyes scanning Adam without blinking. And behind both of them, stepping into the faint, broken light, was a dark-skinned man in a white lab coat.

"D-Dr. Aniston!" Jimmy shouted.

Adam's head snapped to the side. His eyes scanned the three, and then the houses.

"Where…?" he muttered.

The dark-skinned man stepped forward. His lab coat was pristine. He smiled warmly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Patient Zero—no. You go by Adam now, correct?"

Why is it always nice to meet you, Adam? And who even is this?

Adam looked around again. Behind the men. Past them. Into the dark gaps between the fake houses.

"Where is Dr. Aniston?" he asked.

"What do you mean…?" The dark-skinned man took another step forward.

The man in the suit put his arm out. "Stop. It's dangerous."

"Eh." The one in casual clothes reached for something at his hip. "We're right here. We can handle Patient Zero if—"

"It's alright," the dark-skinned man said, gently pushing the arm down. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Adam, a smirk creeping on his face. "Tell me—how did Bjorn perform?"

Adam's eyebrows lowered. His hands, hanging at his sides, curled into loose fists. "Who are you?"

"Huh…?" The dark-skinned man seemed confused. But after a few seconds, he straightened his back and nodded, clasping his hands behind him.

"I'm Dr. Aniston," he said.

"Huh?" Adam stared at him, and the fake street became quiet for a moment, so that one could hear a leak from one of the pipes somewhere.

"No, you're not."

"Oh." The man tilted his head slightly. "But I am. I inherited the name. And the position. From my predecessor."

"What…?" Adam blinked several times. He glanced back at Jimmy, who was now staring at the floor. Adam looked around again before focusing on the one who introduced himself as Dr. Aniston.

"Where… is Dr. Aniston?" Adam asked again; his tone was deeper this time.

The dark-skinned man looked genuinely confused. His brow furrowed, and he glanced at the man in the suit, then back at Adam.

"Bjorn didn't tell you?"

"What?" Adam tightened his loose fist. "Tell me what?"

The man paused. Removed his glasses. Cleaned them on his coat with calm, unhurried wipes before placing them back on his nose.

"Dr. Aniston—known outside as Tomoe Adams… is deceased."

"Huh…?"

"She died last month. In the 243rd Game."

And just like that, everything around Adam seemed to… shrink. His vision became blurry, but all he really muttered was an,

"Oh."

Just that.

Just, "Oh."