He stood on the top of the tallest building in town, looking down around him.

It was raining, as usual. The sky was heavy around him, and the pounding water flattened his hair. He blinked, keeping an eye out for anything remotely out of the ordinary, even though nothing was. Nothing ever was out of the ordinary. Nothing here ever changed. He saw to that.

He turned to the side and jumped off the building, landing with a grunt. His jacket sleeves clung to his forearms, and he pulled them down as far as he could. He did it so much it was like a nervous habit now, and most of the time he didn’t even notice he did it.

He walked down the street, the buildings around him seemingly transparent. He didn’t really notice that, either. They usually ended up that way, their intangibility echoing the silence of the streets.

Because of course there was no one else on the streets, or in the city, or around here at all, for all he knew. These buildings weren’t haunted with the ghosts of their past, because for all he knew, the past they had was nil.

He continued to walk down the rain-swept road, hands in pockets, not bothering to search for other signs of life, because he knew none were there. Here, in his domain, it was almost as if he were his own god.

It could be lonesome at times, though, he had to admit.

His shoes didn’t echo as the slapped the pavement with wet, slosshy noises. He looked up, the clouds, and the rain seemed to change shape into all those thoughts that he never could quite reach, and the ideas fell past him without touching him, sinking into puddles. He watched them fall, not sure whether to regret the idea of untouched thought or just metaphor itself.

A splash in front of him startled him, as it very well should have.

Some sort of jeep-like vehicle stood in front of him, engine running. A girl sat at the wheel, very different from him and obviously out of place.

Her bright red hair stuck to her face as she tried to shake it out of her eyes, which were huge, open to their full capacity and staring at him. Her skin was dark, not like his, pale from the constant rain. She took a moment to glance around the city, full of transparent buildings, and rain, and nothing else.

He squirmed at the glance. He felt as though she was sizing him up, judging him, judging his city. She looked back at him, and thought he was still uncomfortable, he understood that it was as if she had deemed him worthy of some sort of… something… and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out. He looked down.

The tires on the vehicle were splattered with mud. So not from the city, obviously. Not that anyone ever was besides him, anyway.

She clamored out of the car and stood directly in front of him, her large eyes staring directly into his. She looked up into his face; wow, she was small. Short, skinny, and full of some strange sort of energy that didn’t make any sense in this place.

“Are you God?” Her voice was muffled by the falling wetness. He raised an eyebrow, unsure how to answer. Not that he really was asked questions much, being the only living thing in this city.

She didn’t wait for an answer, luckily. She climbed back into the driver’s seat, turning her body enough to kick open the passenger door before becoming fully occupied with putting on her seat belt.

He might not have had much social interaction (what with being the only person in his city and all) but he understood the motion. She was asking him if he wanted to leave this place of rain and emptiness. He looked at her blankly, not sure how to respond.

She gunned the engine. He turned around and looked at his big, lonely city.

He climbed in and shut the door. “Buckle up,” was all she said.

The jeep turned around, leaving the city for a place of what he could only assume was the opposite of what he had. The buildings parted around them as they headed for what looked like a dense forest, past the buildings he knew that he might eventually miss, maybe. He began to feel slightly sick and very far from home, but then again, maybe it was just the motion of the vehicle. He turned around, looking over his shoulder at the last glimpses of his city passing by.

He looked at her, finally finding his voice and an appropriate question.

“Who are you?”

She didn’t even take her eyes off of the wet pavement road as she answered simply, “Most people call me the Antichrist.”

He figured that he could settle for some social interaction more often, and settled into his seat, buckling his seat belt.