No one’s Pov:

“ I assume you are supposed to be listening to the Future Club Chairperson (A/N: or Club President, but in my country, it's Chairperson) not wasting everyone's time, Lucifer?” A higher-pitch voice startled everyone in the room.

There stood was a figure, by his appearance, seemed older than the rest of the people in the club. He had a scruffy brown beard and his spectacles clinger tightly onto his nose. Realisation seeped into the club members, as they quickly stood up and greeted him, Mr Chuck Shurley, the Teacher-in-charge of the Artificial Flying Club.

Despite his stern looks, he was actually a kind, genuine teacher whose best interests were the club and the club members.

“Mr Shurley, I-I …” Lucifer started defending himself.

“ Yeah, I know, now students, please go collect the boxes of parts which are outside of the room.”

The club members started making their way out of the room, bowing in respect as they passed by Mr Shurley.

And so, the club members began their club activities for the day.

“Alright, now I would love to have a scribe for this club activity session. Who would volunteer?” Mr Shurley clapped his hands together and asked.

A hand raised high among the heads of the crowd. The owner was a young teenager with the name of Metatron. Metatron could write neatly and fast. However, he was really infamous within the club as no one liked him. Not even Lucifer. Why? He was basically a nerd who likes to boss people around, thinking himself as the ‘boss’ of the other angels in Heavens School. He called himself God, even daring to force Lucifer into submission, only to be given new trendy nicknames like ‘Dickweed’.

“Okay, Metatron it is. So let’s begin the Flying Theory. For all of you, the stem of the wings, which is in between the two wing bones sticking out, is called the Kneel of Sternum. It is shaped like a cross, the bones on arms of the cross which can be stretched up and down are called the coracoid. The coracoid is facing down, while the Humerus (the outer bones of the wings) follows when our wings are in ‘Downstroke’ position, where the Pectoralis major contracted……”

Metatron was busy scribbling down all the important information onto his notebook while the others tried to digest all the new information that were flooding in, almost drowning them in knowledge, even Lucifer was beginning to sweat. Chuck smirked, he knew the secret to organising and maintaining the club, which is to force them to adapt and memorise a huge, huge chunk and loads of information, not counting even the time taken to process the information before summarising. The students were starting to give up and lose interest. He paused awhile, watching the students start to struggle and then unleash his killer move –– “Okay Class, don’t think that these pieces of information are unimportant. They are very, very, very, important as we will be having a Ranking Examinations next week. So how the Ranking Examinations work is that a ranking system position will be given according to your skills, talent and results from every Ranking Examinations you will take. There are 7 ranks in the system –– Archangel, Seraphim, Angel, Cherubim, Reapers, Grigori.

Archangel being the highest will have more power and responsibilities and Grigori being the lowest will have the least. So I wish you well and if I were you, I would pay attention very carefully to what I am supposed to know.”

The students started murmuring about their fate. What if they get Grigori? None of them wanted that, but surely someone had to, because of the standard ‘Bell Curve’ format. Will this system affect their performance in the club?

Lucifer’s P.o.v:

“So I wish you well and if I were you, I would pay attention very carefully to what I am supposed to know.”

Oh right. I can’t remember at this rate… I really need the notes. I need to be an Archangel. Archangel sounds pretty cool anyways, so much better than a , diaper wearing cupid. Urgh yuck. But how else am I going to pass this examination? Wait not just pass, but excel. I need to excel. I am going to excel. I have to. I will.

My fists clenched as I uncomfortably grabbed and shuffle my pants. Everyone here will be my enemy. I cannot and must not trust them. They will use me to for their advantages. It should be me instead of them. My teeth unconsciously gritted as I did a low growl, eyeing everyone suspiciously.

Michelle stood up and did a slight bow towards Mr Shurley as he proceeded out of the room. Mr Shurley, there is something peculiar about him. Shurley suspicious isn’t it? 

I chuckled at my pun (A/N: DOUBLE PUN) as I stomped my way into the Handicapped Toilet.

Did it sound rude? I hope not! I take a huge breath and soon, I was unconsciously ...

“Lucifer, what are you doing? What on Earth makes you even mutter random words under that cold breath of yours?” A loud banging noise of the door snapped me back to reality.

“ Dickweed, I totally ‘appreciate’ you caring for me. But please, give me some alone time?” I groaned, still in the toilet.

Metatron, please. Let me enjoy doing this... Please…

Once the source of external noise outside the toilet was gone, I heaved a sigh of relieve and continued what I was doing before –– Sleeping.

What else could others think I would even do? Peace out.