Author Romeru
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[ADAM] Chapter 31: Children of the Administrators
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 14:35:59 +0000 UTCOutside or inside the Game, people are always like this, Adam. You should never get, humanity didn't get worse after the Game started—they just flourished.
Adam watched the men continue to look at the menu with cheeky smiles on their faces, elbows jabbing his ribs deliberately as they passed it around. The tallest one still leaned heavily against Adam's shoulder, nearly pushing him from his seat.
After a few moments, the server finally approached with a coffee pot in hand, and her face immediately hardened as soon as she saw the group at Adam's table.
"Eric, stop messing with visitors. You're painting this town bad as it is," she said, setting the pot down right in front of the tall man. "Get your ass out of that chair and leave that poor kid alone."
The tall man removed his arm from Adam and stood up, towering over the petite server.
"We will do what we want, Marianne. Now, why don't you get that little pen of yours and take our orders?"
Eric's voice was loud, causing the heads of the other diners to turn to them.
"Don't make me call Pops." Marianne crossed her arms, feet planted firmly on the checkered floor as she stared Eric in the eyes.
Eric snorted, glancing at his friends who were chuckling at the server's words.
"Call him," Eric slammed his hand on the table, causing the coffee pot to lightly bounce, "That old fuck's not gonna do anything."
"Whatever happened to you? You were such a sweet child."
The air in the diner thickened, and the only sound that whispered in the air was a fork clattering against a plate somewhere in the back. But soon, this silence was broken by Adam clearing his throat.
"It's fine, Ma'am," he said quietly. "Let them order what they want. I don't want any trouble."
Marianne's shoulders immediately dropped.
"No, honey…" She shook her head, strands of hair escaping her ponytail.
"Heh. You heard him," Eric's voice boomed as he settled back into the seat, pressing uncomfortably against Adam, "Now take our orders and do your job, woman. Damn."
Eric's friends snickered, one of them mimicking Adam's soft-spoken tone. Someone from two booths over even muttered 'pussy' just loud enough for everyone to hear it.
Despite everyone laughing at him, however, Adam didn't flinch at all. His eyes remained fixed on his hands folded neatly on the table. Marianne stared at him for a few seconds before her pen hovered over her notepad and sighed.
She began taking the men's orders, her lips frowned. Her voice only softened when she finally turned to Adam.
"And what about you, honey?"
"I'll… have whatever you recommend, Ma'am," Adam answered as he wasn't able to look at the menu at all.
Marianne just shrugged and walked away. Meanwhile, Eric and his friends were having a conversation about basketball, completely ignoring Adam.
But Adam was right—based on their conversation, they were only students from the local college.
Their food arrived after several minutes, with Marianne purposely clattering Eric and his friend's plates in front of them.
She was really only gentle with Adam's plate.
"Thank you," Adam whispered as he saw the burger and fries in front of him. He was about to reach for them, but Eric shoved his elbow hard against his ribs again, pushing him against the wall. But of course, with his increased strength, he couldn't even feel it.
"Oops," Eric snickered, spreading himself wider across the seat.
Adam silently adjusted, trying to reach his food despite the limited space. Every time he extended his arm, one of Eric's friends would bump the table, causing his fries to scatter or his drink to slosh.
Don't, Adam. They're children.
Despite the harassment, Adam ate his meal quietly. He didn't react when Eric stole fries from his plate. He simply brushed them off and continued eating until his plate was clean and his fingers were filled with grease.
"Excuse me," he said quietly, trying to slide out of the booth. But Eric planted his butt firmly, not wanting to move.
"Where do you think you're going?" He snarled, his breath that was previously hot with coffee now smelled like garlic against Adam's face.
"Paying," Adam replied while pointing at the counter.
"Ho?" Eric smirked as he looked at his friends. After a moment, he slid out, making a grand gesture of allowing Adam to pass.
"Good boy," Eric said as they watched Adam walk away, and his friends erupted in laughter behind him.
They are children, Adam.
Adam didn't care. He approached the counter where Marianne stood wiping down the surface, her eyes filled with sympathy.
"How much do I owe?" Adam asked her.
Marianne glanced over at Eric's table, then back at Adam. "Are you sure, honey? We could just put it on their tab." She sighed, but Adam only nodded.
She reluctantly rang up his meal, and Adam pulled out a neat, small wallet this time. Just as he was about to hand over the bills, a heavy arm once again draped across his shoulders.
"While you're at it, why don't you pay for our tab too?" Eric again, his grip tightening around Adam.
Marianne's face flushed red as she saw this. "Alright, enough is enough!"
She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a wooden rolling pin, marching around to confront Eric. "Get out, or I'm gonna call Sheriff Cole!"
She waved the rolling pin while rushing toward him, pointing it directly up at his face as she stood in front of him.
"What do you think you're going to do with that?" Eric laughed, easily snatching the rolling pin from her grasp. His expression darkened as he raised his hand toward Marianne.
Before he could actually do anything, however, he felt a grip on his arm. He looked, only to see Adam holding him by the wrist.
"Don't," Adam said.
Eric smirked, and his shoulder relaxed as she looked at Adam.
"Relax, cowboy. I wasn't actually gonna hit her. Just messing around, right, Marianne?"
Marianne stepped forward, glaring at Eric but placing her weathered hand gently on Adam's arm.
"I'm alright, honey. This ain't worth the trouble." Her voice was steady, but Adam could feel her hand shaking on his skin.
Adam stood there in silence for a moment before finally releasing Eric's wrist and casually turning back to the counter. He placed the bills he owed there, smoothing them with his palm.
"Thank you, Ma'am," he said to Marianne before quietly turning to leave.
Eric, however, rubbed his wrist with narrowed eyes before exchanging glances with his friends, who immediately moved to block Adam's exit. They formed a wall between Adam and the door, their arms crossed and their faces smirked.
"Eric!" Marianne raised her voice again, grabbing Eric by the arm, "That's enough! Let the poor boy go!"
"Tch." Eric shot her an annoyed look and lightly shoved her aside. He dropped the rolling pin as he rushed toward Adam, who had turned back at the sound of Marianne's voice.
But with a sneer, Eric planted both hands on Adam's chest and pushed him toward his friends with all his strength. Well, at least that was what he expected to happen.
But Adam didn't move. Not even an inch. Instead, it was Eric who bounced back.
He stumbled to keep his balance. A small, whimpering gasp escaped his lips in confusion. He blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened—and it wasn't only him.
Eric was nearly twice the size of Adam, and yet he'd been the one pushed back, as if he'd shoved a concrete wall.
The smiles on his friends' faces vanished. The diner fell silent as Eric and his friends looked at each other. They didn't even have to say anything as they all realized something at the same time.
This young man wasn't just some drifter passing through town. He was someone who had participated in the Game and survived. A veteran. Or worse… perhaps even a Hero.
And they had been harassing him all this time.
Adam moved slightly, and every one of Eric's friends flinched. Even the other diners scrambled to their feet, one even knocking over a glass that shattered on the floor.
But no one moved to clean it up.
Adam simply sighed, glancing over Marianne again and uttering a silent apology. He stepped forward, and Eric's friends immediately made way, pressing themselves against each other, watching him with wide, frightened eyes.
Without a word, Adam walked out of the diner, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully in his wake.
Adam hurried back to his motel room, shoulders hunched as if expecting trouble to follow. He immediately locked the door behind him, and he sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Every passing car made him tense, every voice in the hallway had him ready to bolt.
Sleep evaded him completely. He paced the small room, occasionally parting the dusty curtains to peer into the parking lot, watching for police or worse—black SUVs belonging to Dr. Aniston and the Hospital. His mind raced with thoughts—which window to escape through, which direction to run.
He could leave now, but he walked all the way here for the chapel. He wanted to at least see what it was about. And so, he waited—not sleeping a wink at all.
But as dawn broke, painting the cheap motel walls with strips of orange light, Adam realized his fear had been pointless. No authorities came knocking. No voices called his name. Not even a whisper of trouble had found him.
"Great," Adam groaned, rubbing his bloodshot eyes as he stepped outside. The morning air hit his face, but he could only shake his head.
He quickly made his way toward the chapel, expecting someone to block his path to find trouble. But the townspeople merely gave him odd glances.
No one blocked his path. No one even approached him.
When Adam reached the town square, he found the chapel doors already open. A pastor stood at the entrance, greeting each guest with a smile and a firm handshake. Adam hung back, watching the crowd go in—mostly elderly folks who nodded respectfully to the pastor.
Adam waited until the last guests had entered before approaching. The pastor's smile never faltered as Adam nodded past him.
The wooden benches were barely filled. Adam was hoping to sit at the very back, but it would look more suspicious with how small the crowd was. And so, he sat close to an old couple, pressing himself against the bench.
He opened his ears, listening for anything that might be relevant—but as he was new to this… purpose-searching, he truly didn't know what to look for.
The people discussed the last Game, muttering about Heroes, praising the Administrators. Nothing of real substance, really.
Most of the people inside the chapel were faces he hadn't seen in town before. They were mostly older people, their wrinkles suggesting they'd been born long before the Game had changed everything.
He could see some children, there were only a handful of them.
He did, however, catch Marianne at the front. She saw him too, but she quickly averted her gaze from him.
A hush soon fell over the chapel as the pastor made his way to the podium. Unlike most of his guests, he was middle-aged, probably a teenager when the first Game happened.
He placed a worn book on the lectern and surveyed the room with the same warm smile he had been wearing since earlier.
"I see many faces today," the pastor began, his voice resonating through the chapel. "More than usual, which isn't surprising given how special the last Game was. It truly showed us more of what humanity is capable of—both the darkness and the light."
The pastor paused mid-sermon, his gaze sweeping across the congregation before settling somewhere in Adam's direction. Adam shifted uncomfortably.
"Today," the pastor continued, his voice dropping to a reverent tone, "We have a very special guest among us."
Adam straightened, suddenly alert. He glanced around, expecting to see someone important—perhaps a Hero or an IBAA official who might reveal something useful.
But the pastor's eyes were fixed directly on him.
Adam looked to his left, then his right, then behind him. There was no one else the pastor could be addressing. No one else but him.
"Children of the Administrators, behold!" The pastor raised his arms dramatically, pointing straight at Adam. And every head in the chapel turned to stare. "Someone who has felt the hold of the Administrators has graced us with his presence!"
"Oh…" Adam muttered, "…Crap."
***
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