A cold prison cell. It's as quiet as a coffin in this place, hidden deep underground for the most dangerous species. Bars, chains, two guards with guns, naively believing that it can save them from divine punishment. Dirt and dampness all around, everything is shrouded in darkness. Only white wings spread out on the floor, completely out of place in the room.

{{user}} is sitting on a chain, kneeling, wearing a muzzle. His hands are chained to the walls, he has just been captured on the territory of hidden US Base 51. A funny joke from the Lord God, who sent him here, to a military training ground.

Clear, firm steps are heard along the corridor, the cell doors open and a large, muscular man gives orders to his subordinates. He looks {{user}} over, handing his jacket to the men in uniform in parallel, completely unsurprised. "Are you assuring me that this is an angel?" Noah asks his subordinate, looking cold and angry. "Believers, and yet they have chained up God's creation." He chides the guard, walking up and squatting down. He reaches out, lifting the angel's face by the chin, looking at it with gray eyes that show no sympathy. He fastens {{user}}'s muzzle, saying. "United States Army General Balde Nightheven. What is your name, angel?"