And here we are…once more…here. I want to truly thank every reviewer for his or her wonderful comments and criticism! It's been a real help, I assure you, and I'm awfully grateful that I can at least attract some form of audience. YAY! –throws confetti- Anyways, six is a very good number. A very good number, indeed. Fifty-Two fans might be fond of this chapter, given a lot of it is revolved around him for the most part. So if you don't like the stuttering little maniac…well, then…uh, apologies.

Disclaimer: Once more, the characters are mine, 'cept Spoon Man and Legend Woman! Wow that sounds like some sort of cheesy hero comic…anyways, Silent Hill belongs to Konami. Enjoy!

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Speak.

"Tonek, would you be so kind as to go up now and perform the presentation?"

His hands shook robustly, nervously, as small and scratched fingers clutched the spine of the worn, raggedy red book in his grasp. Horrified eyes flitted this way and that, catching all of the eyes, all of the stares, all of the waiting faces… "Yes, Ma'am." There was no more time to waste.

The front of the auditorium was absolutely astonishing; there was an impressive wooden podium where everything was read out loud—that was where he needed to go. On the back wall, there had been a large hanging crucifix, but that had been taken down not long ago for technical reasons he hadn't heard about. Maybe it had broken? Or perhaps someone had thrown something and it…? No time to wander off into such futile thoughts; everyone was waiting. Waiting for him.

"Mr. Tonek is going to read to us the scriptures of the Crimson Ceremony. Now, children, this is a very important piece so I want you all to be listening. Remember, God is watching, and so She knows whenever you're fooling around with others, or disobeying the rules." The Sister who had called out terrified the shaking boy; with her thinning gray hair and her strict, pushed-up face, she could look down over her hooked nose at the children and make it seem as though she was a vulture, perched on her royal throne and waiting for the mice to kill over in fear.

Speak.

His footsteps seemed to echo down the narrow pathway between neatly lined pews on both sides. It was very unlikely, though, since the floor was of carpet and not of tiles or wood. Nonetheless, he could hear his breathing, his racing heart, and it made him utmost uncomfortable as he climbed the few stumpy stares to the higher level. Being a whole six years of age, he couldn't exactly reach the top of the podium—even on his tiptoes—so he had to take the time to drag a small step over so that he could get up on it and settle the book in front of him quietly.

Speak.

He cleared his throat with a cough. Another cough. Gaze searched the room anxiously as he did so, noticing the Sister's raising brow, the awkward shifting of fellow orphans, and the sighs of those who were already bored. He slowly opened the cover of the book, fingering the paper bookmark, which had kept his rightful place.

"S-Speak."

He looked up. All eyes were on him.

"…I a-am the…the Crimson One…"

He could hear the shuffling of paper. Someone in the back was throwing a balled up note across the room; he glanced up to see that it had hit someone in the head.

"…The l-lies and the mist a-are not they but I…You all k-know that I am One. Y-Y-Yes, and the One is I. B-Believers hearken t-to me…! Twenty s-score men and seven thousand b-b-bea—"

"Mr. Tonek, I believe that is enough." The tone in her voice was sharp, cracking him like a whip.

"…B-beasts. Heed my w-words and speaketh t-them to all…"

"That is quite ENOUGH, Mr. Tonek."

"…That they shall e-ever be obeyed…"

"Enough!"

"…Even under the l-light of the p-proud…"

"ENOUGH!"

"…And m-merciless sun…" He was startled to see the Sister storming towards him, jerking him off the stool and causing a loud slamming to erupt. His hands had caught onto the sharp edge of the podium, and yet he clung, cheek pressed against the cool wood tightly. "…I can read the rest."

"That is enough for today. Now stop making this difficult and get to your feet! We shall continue with someone else's readings tomorrow night."

"B-But I can read it…I c-can read the rest!" he cried desperately; why couldn't he just finish what he had started? Why wouldn't she let him accomplish the task of getting to read out loud in front of the whole orphanage? He had been doing well…hadn't he? He'd had done better than expected—

"Let GO of the podium, Tonek!" Her snarls did not force him to budge. "Let go right this instant!" She started to pull, and his legs were starting to ache from her distressed heaving, and all he wanted to do was read, read and finish it, but it seemed as though she were going to rip his legs off, and…

"I want to read the rest! P-Please, let m-me!" Tears were beginning to stream from his eyes now…now, of all times! It was all so embarrassing, and yet, he didn't care. He didn't care that he looked like a helpless and sobbing child who cried out for attention. Didn't care that his leg had snapped out of place, or that a jolt of sudden pain had rushed up his leg. Didn't care that he was now being dragged off the stairs, down the middle of the pews and out the auditorium doors…

The huffing Sister and the weeping child were outside now, one still dragging the other without any sign of affection or pity. "Now, Tonek," she began firmly. "You've been a very, very bad boy this evening! If you think we are going to settle for such absurd behavior, then you will have to be punished. Not only by us, but also by God Herself. You better think seriously on what you've done."

The round, concrete-like shelter came into view. Was it a shelter? Some would consider it such a civilized word…others, who'd clearly been inside, would consider it a prison. Located in the middle of the orphanage, it was famous for its horrible stories told by orphans who'd been sent inside and came out to live another day. The children were sent inside this punishment lair for various reasons; a stumble upon a scripture, atrocious actions towards another, stealing from Sisters or other children, and so on and so forth. He couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. He'd read it well…he'd read it better than he'd ever read anything in his entire life.

Even if this was so, the Sister seemed not to care. His scrawny form was shoved through the small opening at the bottom, where a large stone fit into place once he was fully inside. There was absolutely no light—not even peeking through the top…no cracks, no holes. The ground below him was dry and unwelcoming. "P-Please, Sister!" he threw himself at the stone wall, clawing down it with his uneven nails and wails becoming louder. "I-I'll read it! I'll read it b-better…please, just d-don't leave me here…don't leave m-me here…alone…"

Nothing. There was nothing but the horrendous silence that greeted him. Tonek curled his small body into a tight ball, rocking back and forth, back hitting the hard wall every so often. There was no one here. Did they even feed the children that lingered in this place of atonement? He'd never actually seen any of the Sisters walk over and slip food in. Would he have to live off the roaches and occasional rats?

He let out yet another bawling whimper. He didn't like roaches and rats. They frightened him.

"H-Here…" he whispered under his breath, falling over on his side and staring out into the cold and unresponsive darkness. "H-Here…I'm gonna h-have to stay…'till they c-come and get me. Won't b-be so bad, no…no, no, no…no, no, no, no, no…"

A light flicker. A frown washed his once-scared face. Had he just seen…?

There it was. He couldn't believe it. In front of him, lingering on thin air and dancing wildly to the windless air, was a small and undying flame.

"I-Is anybody there…?"

The flame continued to glimmer brightly, but did not move an inch.

He opened his mouth to speak. "…'S a-anyone there…? You…with the f-fire…?"

No answer. Nothing. The flame even seemed to blend into the stillness, because there was neither crackling nor the snapping of sparks. He hoisted himself up on his knees, leaning forward and beginning to crawl towards the mysterious ember, which he guessed was across the "prison".

When he finally reached it, he noticed something quite peculiar—there was no heat emitting from the source. He raised his hand so that it remained above the flame, but no matter how long he kept it there, it didn't seem to get any hotter. His lips curled downwards into a light frown of confusion. Fire was never as bluntly warm as this. What was going on?

Gradually, cautiously, he rested the tip of his finger at the top of the fire. Nothing happened—and so, because of his overwhelming curiosity, he stuck his whole finger in, and then another, and then another, until his whole hand was resting in the very core of the blazing flame. It was strange; really…it felt rather chilly in the very center, like ice, but warmer on the edges. Fire had never felt like that before. Of course, he had never actually stuck his whole hand in the flames before, but they had always warned him with scorching heat before he'd even get close to doing so.

Bored with the flame, now, he flopped heavily onto his back and let out an exhausted sigh. The day's events had been both tedious and upsetting. His lids were growing heavy from the lack of rest he'd received from nights before—nightmares were always so stressful. Staring up into the dimness, he let his breath hiss out through clenched teeth. Perhaps spending a few days in this prison wouldn't be so bad…maybe he'd be able to get some nice, needed rest—

Smoke? He sniffed the air a second time. Yes, that was definitely smoke.

He turned his head to search for the cold flame he'd seen before, eyes widening so that it seemed they were about to pop. His lips parted, and from his throat burst a scream of terror as the boiling fire began to greedily devour at the flesh of his arm, which was slowly fading into a color that reminded him of coal…

Sirens…in the distance? No. They were closer. Close to him. Right by him. Atop him.

And voices, too. His head was pounding furiously, but he could have sworn they were a pair of Sisters' voices…the one from that night of his reading, and another…

"What happened to him? The burn looks horrible."

"I put him in there merely for a sort of time out, if you will. His reading was too embarrassing to be represented to God at such a time, with all of his struggling of words. I have no clue how this all happened; there are no matches in the Atonement Center. Not even a couple of sticks."

No…there hadn't been sticks. No matches. No lighters. That little flame had already vanished once he'd noticed his arm, but…he'd also noticed something else. The picture was faint, almost dying off in his mind, but he could remember a few traits almost as if they'd just appeared moments ago. He remembered horns. Long, brown horns that curled from a dark head. Wide, shadowy yet somehow comforting wings…and breasts. He tried to blink, but found that his eyes were still closed.

"Hey…hey! Get someone over here, quick! Hurry, quick, his heart's seemed to have stopped!" one of the Sisters shrilled in worry.

…Huh…?

"Feel his wrists…neck? Do you feel a pulse at all? We'll be at the hospital soon, let's just hope he can hold on—"

"Oh, dear God."

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"This fog is absolutely terrible…" Ryland let out a frustrated sigh as she swiped her hands out in front of her, trying to make clear vision for her eyes—of course, this failed to work. "Why couldn't Lord Sammael choose rain? Or snow?"

"Suppose the other Gods already took those climates," Roth chuckled lightly. "And although our sign is the Halo of the Sun, we're not getting much sunlight 'round here anytime soon."

Both made their way down the street rather noisily, feet clunking against the sidewalk ground carelessly. Apparently they had given up the attempt of being silent, because now they were just fed up with this whole search. Oh, yes, they'd encountered a few revolting creatures during their hunt, but almost always they'd be able to find something of assistance nearby—a trashcan lid, a wooden plank, a broken butcher knife…

They were sick of it! Sick, sick, sick of running around and trying to find their childish leader—Miki, who just had to go off on his own and complete his own "work". And he'd lecture them, too. He'd stand there and say, "What would Lord Sammael think?" or "You two are seriously slacking! This is the Beginning, and although we've got to be cool about this, haste is something that'll put a dent in our attempt for Paradise."

Ryland was infuriated. Roth was just annoyed.

"Where could he be?" she hissed angrily, throwing her balled up fists in the air. "We've searched the whole town!"

"I wouldn't say the whole town…" Roth started, but was quickly interrupted by his younger sister.

"All the way down Nathan Street, Munson Street, Katz Street, even inside Heaven's Night!" she shivered at the thought of going in there again. Even though there was hardly any activity when they had entered the bar, it was still somewhat disturbing to walk in and find papers strewn all over the place of naked and dancing women. She'd rather stick to peeking inside the Texxon Gas Station.

"All the way here, all the way there. It seems like we've been walking a long way, but believe me, it's only been about half an hour at the most."

"Fine," the irritated female snapped, crossing her arms stubbornly. "The Wish House orphanage is up ahead…let's just go check that out on the way."

"Why would he be there?" Roth eyed her curiously with raised eyebrows.

"Why would he be anywhere but the church?"

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"I had seen Sammael."

Miki's shadowed eyes flicked towards the young boy who had just finished his story. "So you are the one after all…"

"Wait, wait…" Raephin blinked, looking from one to the other and ignoring the whining Logan who was still moaning under his breath loudly. "So you used to live here…right?"

"That is correct," Fifty-Two nodded in agreement.

"…And your real name is Tonek?"

Once more, another nod.

"Then why do you use that hospital name? And how the hell did you even get to the hospital? And why—?"

"You see, Seventeen…" Fifty-Two—or, Tonek—had gone back to petting Logan's head, as if the man was a pretty kitty who starved for endless attention. Quite the opposite, the man tried to writhe away, but was held tightly to the boy's lap. "…After my arm was taken by the God of the town, I suppose I was put on an ambulance vehicle. I'd never made it. I'd died on the ride there."

"Then why—"

"I'd decided to see where they were going to take me. It was so…weird, really. I hadn't even noticed I was dead and gone until I'd overheard the Sisters and their saddened comments. I kind of think they were faking it, though…" Tonek let a forced smile light his distraught face. "I had the same body, only my arm was gone. It took a while to get used to. I'd arrived at Brookhaven several years later, when I'd snatched up the courage to go, and had come to find out that once they'd treated me back to normal health, they had intended me to stay there. Said I was kind of out of my mind, having a fit that night and then later exclaiming I'd seen the beast-headed Lord himself. The doctors even laughed."

There was silence. Raephin nodded to encourage the younger one to continue.

"There were fifty-one residents of the hospital at the time, so I'd adopted the next number for myself. Unfortunately, six of those patients were sent out quickly, either to another hospital or freed to run the streets. Anyways…when I'd got there, I noticed that no one could see me. No one but a select few…and one of the chosen ones was you, Seventeen." He smiled broadly, a child-like beam that made Raephin feel a bit protective of his used-to-be roommate. "So there had to be a pattern. Some kind of odd guideline that needed to be followed…"

"The ritual…" Miki whispered, nodding in understanding.

"Does this have to do with that Beginning you're talking about?" Raephin's puzzlement was slowly dissolving.

"Sammael had chosen me—me, of all people," Tonek looked truly proud. "To first begin the ritual. Only those who could see me would carry on the rest. I needed a single piece of every person who could see me," He got up, letting Logan's resting head bang to the grassy ground roughly. Turning, he made his way towards an old, wooden rocking chair, which lightly swayed in the calm night's air.

There, sitting inside, was what seemed to be a body—only, for some unusual reason it didn't feel like a whole body. Every piece was there—Raephin's finger, Miki's stolen ears, Tonek's arm, Logan's leg…but it was not alive. There was something missing.

"I can see you," Miki exclaimed, brows furrowing. "Why hasn't Lord Sammael taken a piece of flesh from me?"

"Oh…" Tonek turned towards the rough-looking man, shrugging ever-so-slightly as he let out a nonchalant sigh. "He's got other plans for you."