《Endsmouth: The Tower》


 1. The Doctor

    Warm winds blew in from the west, kicking up sand, serving as another obstacle in their path for the convoy of the damned that Dr. Faraday found herself wrapped up with. Refugees during any other period of human history would¡¯ve been taken in and shielded, but in the wasteland there was no such luck. The convoy was a ragtag group of the elderly, the sick and children, with a few of the more able-bodied taking their place around the fringes of the caravan to protect from any raiders or the undead. They had been referring to themselves as a convoy, but the remnants that had made it this far were halved from even a few weeks prior. That last raid on their camp had decimated them and forced them on their long death march towards Branch Tower.


    Convoy members had come from all over; anywhere in the west that didn¡¯t get hit as hard from the dead rising or the bombs that burned anything in their path, leaving nothing but rains of ash and sickness in their wake. There was an older couple¡ªwell, older that they were in their 60s, considering Dr. Faraday herself was 73¡ªbut they were from Oregon, they had brought their dog with them, a Corgi named Petey that was shot through the skull by a raider crossbow at their last camp. Fergie had taken that hard, it being the last blow she could handle before shutting herself off from the world, leaving her husband Bert to be strong for her. Now he was outside of the old, broken-down bus with a rusted hunting rifle in his hands and he was all alone. Fergie had fallen from a cliff two weeks back in what they were calling an accident, even if the look in Bert¡¯s eyes told a different story. The fight left her as soon as Petey passed on. Sometimes it was the little things.


    That¡¯s how bad things had gotten.


    The convoy was now just the old converted school bus and two old police cruisers. Nothing else remained in running condition, or had to be gutted along the way for spare parts. An excited rumble rippled through the bus, a few of the children rushing towards the left side of the bus, crawling over anyone in their way. Gasps and shouts filled the air inside of the stuffy old bus while the kids lined the windows.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Dr. Faraday turned to Rachel, a mother of two little girls who clutched at the windows.


    ¡°Oh Ruth, it¡¯s marvelous,¡± Rachel was gazing out the window with her youngest, Betty, perched on her knee, also transfixed by the view. Elsie, her other daughter, patiently awaited her turn.


    ¡°What is, my dear?¡±


    ¡°The Tower.¡±


    Dr. Faraday picked herself up from her seat, feeling the pain in her joints while she straightened herself out and moved towards the left of the bus. This was it, this was what their journey was all about; getting to that damned tower. The Tower was hope to these people; the last hope left in that blanched world, devoid of anything but desolation. Branch Tower was the last bastion of humanity, they said. It became folklore out in the wastes that billionaire Jordan Branch hid away in his old resort-casino in the remnants of Las Vegas, working with a medical team, working on a cure for the undead plague.


    Granted, that all seemed silly, with the undead hardly serving as a problem, considering most disintegrated into dust along with the rest of humanity when the bombs dropped. But there it was, standing there in all of its glory. The stories talked about lush green gardens tucked away inside, offering a refuge for anyone who could make it through the wastes.


    Branch Tower stood like a mirage in the middle of the reclaimed desert. Only a few memories of the lascivious past that was the Las Vegas strip jutting through the sand and kipple. Somehow, the building was unscathed. Constructed next to it was an enormous structure of some sort, fashioned from what looked like scrap metal and stray concrete. The closer that they got, the more the excitement spread throughout the bus. They had all convinced Dr. Faraday that they¡¯d need her at Branch Tower. All of it was part of the fantastical dream that the team of researchers looking for a cure needed someone with her experience. She had done her best to tend to the wounded and sick in their group, but she was a pediatrician in her past life, which meant a cursory understanding of ailments and illnesses, but not the research-based expertise they¡¯d need to formulate a cure for Branch¡¯s sickness that he spread. She was a good sport, though, so she went along with it. A breeze from the window felt nice on her face, a cool reprieve from the heat of the bus. Her polyester pants and blouse weren¡¯t breathable, either.


    ¡°We stopped.¡± Dr. Faraday tried to get a better view, patting two of the children on the shoulder so that they¡¯d moved aside. ¡°Thank you, children, let Auntie Ruth have a look.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡± Rachel asked, bouncing the now-fussy Betty a bit and cooing at her like nothing was wrong.


    ¡°It looks like a few of the men are talking to some men in armor and¡ªoh god...¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    A few pops rang out, screams coming from the front of the bus. Ruth looked back out the window only to see two of their men were down, the guards grabbing their weapons while the men on the ground writhed. One guard placed his foot on one man¡¯s chest¡ªit looked like it was Bill Parker¡ªthen pop. Another shot went off, this time the gun pointed at his head. His body stopped twitching. The mood on the bus took a sharp turn, the adults pulling the children from the sides of the bus and doing their best to shield them from the horror¡ªat least this latest horror.


    Ruth was in a trance, unable to look away from Bill Parker, laying there in an expanding pool of his own blood. He was a fine young man; his wife was in the front of the bus with their son, trying to cover his face while her own was blank and expressionless. More screams emerged, then a rattling before the familiar hisses and groans of the undead hit her like a tidal wave. The panic on the bus turned into terror when the two tower guards retreated behind the thick metal doors they have come from, leaving a swath of the undead rushing towards the men and women surrounding the bus. She saw Bert fighting one off, smashing in its face with the butt end of the rifle while another gripped onto his arm, like it was pulling him down into the abyss. He fought on, but soon there were three, then four on top of him, overwhelmed.


    A few of the men on the bus braced themselves against the door by the front, doing their damnedest to keep those doors shut. The battered old bus couldn¡¯t take much in the way of punishment, nevermind a horde of the undead scraping, clawing and smashing at it. What remained of the door was folding in, two of the men with their backs pressed against the fold, doing their best to keep it from bursting open. The roar of an engine from the south made her eyes scan the horizon, turning to get a glimpse, only to see a glint of light in the distance. A lone rider rushed in towards the scene, shots firing at the undead.


    It couldn¡¯t be him, could it?


    ¡°Tom,¡± she murmured under her breath.


    The screams from both inside and outside of the bus were blood curdling, soon joined in the chorus by the blast of a shotgun and the roar of the bike¡¯s engine. Dr. Faraday tried to follow along through the bus windows, but everything was moving so quickly. She was the bike stop short, the back wheel jumping out and a spike from the rear axle impaling one of the undead while the man all-clad in black leather dual-wielded two handguns, unloading careful shots into the heads of the undead who had turned their attention towards him.


    A cry rang out from the front of the bus, followed by a clamoring and a crack, signaling that the door had given way despite their best efforts. Now they were fighting for their lives while the undead rushed over them. The children were crying, screaming, everyone was squishing towards the back. Dr. Faraday reached for Rachel, ¡°we have to get out of here!¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± she shouted over the ruckus.


    ¡°The back, come on.¡± Dr. Faraday pulled at the handle to the back door, freeing it with a mighty tug that made her knuckles burn. The door flew open while the mass of humanity from the bus was pressing up against her, all of them trying to escape the undead. Screams had turned into death throes as the undead were piling in. Blood was spraying against the windows, and chaos had taken control. She grabbed at Rachel¡¯s eldest, Elsie, snatching her up in her arms before the force against her back was too much, flinging her from the bus, with Elsie in her arms, Rachel and Betty tumbling out after.


    A sharp pain shot through her right arm where Elsie was, Dr. Faraday trying to claw herself out from under Rachel and the few others that had fallen from the bus, only to see her wrist twisted back at a terrible angle. The bone wasn¡¯t exposed, but that was a compound fracture. She had to forget it, had to look for the girls. Clouds of sand kicked up, screams, shouts and roars filled the air, making it warmer than imaginable while the whizzing sound of bullets cut through it all.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Elsie!¡± she called. ¡°Where are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here, Auntie Ruth,¡± the girl called out, gripping onto Dr. Faraday¡¯s shirt.


    ¡°Hold on, sweetie, we need to find your mom and your sister and get away from here.¡±


    The dust was obscuring her vision, but it wasn¡¯t difficult to see the bus shaking and the blood dripping out of the back door like someone had left a faucet running. Doing her best to cradle her arm and hold Elsie close, she reached around, ¡°Rachel! Betty! Where are you?¡±


    Before she could react, there was a great weight on her shoulders, pinning her down and making the world turn dark. Elsie was screaming, but she couldn¡¯t budge with the weight of the thrashing body on top of her. The sounds were gruesome, crunching bones, tearing flesh and the quick shuffling of feet kicking up all around her. There was a man on top of her being torn apart, but with one arm she couldn¡¯t do a damned thing, nor could she breathe. The pressure was overwhelming. A loud blast rang out and the screech of what sounded like a wounded animal pierced through her already ringing ears, then another blast and the body on top of her grew lighter.


    The world returned in an instant. Every dusty breath of air that she could gasp in felt fresher than any air that she had ever breathed before, the light from the sun as blinding as it was refreshing. The sounds had died down a bit before the sound of a few more blasts shot out over her head. A few more screeches filled the air and a thud before it the calm hit. A black form stood above her, a hand reaching down and grasping at her bad arm while she recoiled.


    ¡°Ah!¡± she cried out. ¡°It¡¯s broken! Be careful.¡±


    ¡°Told ya this was stupid,¡± the man muttered, her vision focusing to see the man that they knew as the rider helping her up.


    ¡°Tom,¡± she whispered, ¡°Tom, where¡¯s Elsie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here, Auntie Ruth.¡±


    ¡°Oh Elsie, where¡¯s your mother and your sister?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t look,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh... Oh my god,¡± she sat up, looking out over what looked like nothing more than a killing field. There she sat, the lone survivor with little Elsie by her side, ensconced in Tom¡¯s arms amid the decimated caravan and the twice-dead, riddled with bullets. ¡°They¡¯re all...¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The doors to the Tower burst open, a line of guards filing out with assault rifles in hand and adorned with heavy armor, making them look like futuristic marines that would fight off an invading alien force. They stood at the ready, guns trained on Dr. Faraday, Elsie and Tom, who was down on one knee, Dr. Faraday resting against his knee while his right hand kept a gun pointed at the guards.


    ¡°Bra-vo,¡± a voice came from behind the line of guards. The sound of gloved hands clapping gave way to a man emerging from the shadows. This man stood about average height, with an average build, but was wearing a crisp pinstriped suit with a yellow tie and pocket square to accent his immaculate, unmoving blonde hair. Over all of this, he wore a gilded cape that made him look like some sort of supervillain. ¡°Mr. Gabriel, I presume? I¡¯m quite impressed with this performance. Yes, impressed indeed.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all... dead.¡± Grief overcame the good doctor, the man¡¯s even demeanor somehow making the whole thing feel more shocking. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh come now,¡± he continued to move forward, ignoring the gun that Tom had pointed at him. ¡°Simple precautions against groups of armed people who come to my home and demand entry.¡±


    ¡°These were the sick, the elderly, women and goddamned children!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure, but really,¡± he turned towards Tom, ¡°this is the star of the show, is it not? Mr. T.K. Gabriel himself, in the flesh, and my what a performance that was. Look, you even saved the old lady and the little girl. What a hero.¡±


    ¡°But... Why?¡± She held Elsie tight with her one good arm, doing her best to ignore her broken right one. Elsie shivered and stared off at the remains of her mother and sister, a dead look in her eyes. ¡°This poor girl is in shock. You killed her family!¡±


    ¡°Oh hush,¡± Branch chided, pulling his handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbing his forehead with it. ¡°What a lovely day it is out here in the wasteland, these people here attempting to sully this fine day. Mr. Gabriel, I assure you, no one is here to harm you, you can put the gun away.¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± he replied.


    ¡°You consider me a monster, don¡¯t you? For allowing this all to happen. Somehow, this beautiful chaos, this tremendous disorder and blood staining the hallowed ground of Las Vegas Boulevard South disgusts you. Yet, this all had to happen.¡±


    ¡°Just like your virus and the bombs?¡± Dr. Faraday couldn¡¯t hold it back any longer. If he would kill her, he would kill her, she decided.


    ¡°Those were...¡± he dabbed at his forehead again and groaned, visibly agitated. ¡°Those were government-sanctioned experiments. I have a Nobel Peace Prize. You know that, woman, don¡¯t you? I¡¯m a goddamned hero! Just because one little thing...¡±


    Branch caught his breath.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain myself to the likes of you. We¡¯re working on a cure here, didn¡¯t you hear? This is my paradise in what is left of this world; the last refuge in the wastes and you are here, judging me on my doorstep? Tsk.¡±


    ¡°How much blood is on your hands?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand, but this man,¡± he slapped Tom on the shoulder. ¡°This man here, he understands, I bet you. Oh, I¡¯m sure that he¡¯s lost plenty, just like the rest of us, but look at him, the dashing hero all clad in leather like the hero from one of his films. And it wasn¡¯t just for show, was it? Look at this chaos! My gods, this man is for real. Tom Cruise had nothing on you, you know that?¡±


    Tom grunted, holstering his gun, but keeping his hand on it.


    ¡°There, see, was that so hard?¡±


    Tom nodded at the line of guards, Branch laughing.


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± he turned towards the guards, ¡°gentlemen, please, take Mr. Gabriel¡¯s personal effects into safekeeping and start cleaning up this mess. No need to keep those guns pointed at these fine folks.¡±


    ¡°Not uh,¡± Tom sprang up, Dr. Faraday almost falling over while he bound for his bike, pushing one of the heavily armored guards off of it, sending him crashing to the ground. He writhed like a turtle on his back inside of that heavy suit of armor, unable to pull himself up.


    ¡°Oh come now, Mr. Gabriel, no harm will come to your personal items here.¡± Branch glanced at the bike and the large blue tarp wrapped with electrical tape and bungee cables. ¡°Whatever is there.¡±


    Tom had rolled into their camp a few months prior, back when they still had a camp out by Death Valley Junction. He was worn to the nub, beaten up, had bruised ribs and his left knee had a knife gash in it, but he said little. She had been the one to patch him up, which gave her time to get to know him, unlike the rest of the camp. Everyone had referred to him as the rider, him refusing to give a name or mutter more than a few quiet words here and there to anyone. But Dr. Faraday could get a bit more out of him. The only subject that was off limits was the package on the back of his bike. No one could touch it or even know what was in there.


    ¡°We have a room prepared for you, actually. You could be a vital part of our new society here.¡±


    ¡°And them?¡± He nodded at Dr. Faraday and Elsie.


    ¡°Oh, them,¡± he tapped his chin. ¡°I suppose if they need lodging I can find a place for them.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a doctor,¡± Tom said, ¡°and a damned good one at that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡±


    ¡°Pediatrician,¡± she corrected, ¡°but yes, I¡¯ve been tending to the sick and wounded.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, doctor...?¡± He looked down at her, offering his gloved hand.


    ¡°Faraday.¡± She held out her left hand, keeping her right arm tucked in close. An odd energy enveloped him in full dictator gear with his fake smile. ¡°Dr. Ruth Faraday.¡±


    ¡°A pleasure, I¡¯m sure,¡± he looked back at Tom, inspecting him like a child would inspect a new toy. ¡°My gods, are you a specimen? Come, come, get in out of this sun. Never much cared for Vegas, myself, but you¡¯ll take what you can, the apocalypse and all.¡±


    He moved towards the door, urging them to follow. Tom reached down and helped Dr. Faraday to her feet, Elsie picking herself up and the doctor gripping her hand tightly with her left hand. The girl was looking back at her mother and sister, unmoving in a grisly scene. Dr. Faraday paused and looked down at her, ¡°C¡¯mon, hun, I know, but we¡¯re going inside now. It¡¯s safe there. Just trust me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±


    ¡°Me too, darling, but we¡¯ll look out for each other, okay? Plus, Tom here won¡¯t let anything happen to us.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± Branch paused at the door, ¡°while that display was quite graceful, you¡¯ll need to disarm, Mr. Gabriel.¡±


    Tom grunted, shaking his head.


    ¡°I insist. This is my society, and my rules, mind you. Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get them back, just like everything else.¡±


    ¡°I better.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you will,¡± the automatic doors parted before them, a rush of cold air greeting them along with soft music being piped in throughout the immaculate lobby. What once was a casino and hotel now served as Branch¡¯s personal home, so the lobby went from the home of slot machines to a reception area with a bold, steel desk with the name ¡°BRANCH¡± emboldened onto the front, greeting them coldly. Inside, a large tree reached up into the ceiling, surrounded by a stream with a wooden bridge over it. Somehow, the garishness of the lobby as opposed to the desolate wasteland littered with bodies was revolting.


    ¡°Here,¡± Branch stopped at the desk, grabbing an apple from a bowl and tossing it to Tom. Tom snatched it out of the sky and inspected it for a long moment. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s fresh,¡± Branch boasted. ¡°We grow our own food here. Anything that you could wish for is here. There¡¯s even a pasture on one of the upper floors where we raise cattle. I don¡¯t much care for that floor, but it does the job, I suppose.¡±


    Tom took a bite of the apple, the juices running down his mouth before he looked down at the girl and handed it to her, tousling her hair. ¡°Here.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± The girl accepted it and stared at it as if it were alien, giving it a careful inspection and looking up at Dr. Faraday for approval.


    ¡°You should try it.¡± She was weary. All of this, inside of this building, from that man. That man who had just ordered a public execution of all of those people outside.


    ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it? You are just in the lobby, my friends. There is so much more to see, so much that I¡¯m just salivating, thinking about showing it all to you, to sharing my world, my vision with you.¡±


    ¡°Those people didn¡¯t fit into it, I gather.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Mr. Gabriel, you have much to learn. Much, much to learn. I suppose you are tired. Roxanne here will check you into your rooms.¡±

 2. The Cannibal

    Rage. Tunnel vision like a darkened corridor, worming through his subconscious, searching fervently for light. Devoid. Terrified. The rage chased him through the maze inside of his mind, looking to overcome him once again. There had to be more, there once was more, but the names, the faces, the language was drifting in an ethereal plane just out of reach. Only the darkness existed.


    Remember.


    Written in neon ink on the smooth stone surface of the wall, invisible when the lights were on, but visible only in the dark. Only to him. To him. Him. He had a name; he had a face and a voice and a family and existed. Existed beyond the endless race through the maze, away from it, from what he had become. Rage. A double occupancy that ate away at his consciousness.


    Remember.


    The word was splashed on the wall, bend after bend. ¡°Remember.¡± But remember what? There was only darkness now. Blind stumbling and fumbling, hoping to remember. But why? Who? Remember. Remember. Remember.


    Demoreo.


    The name came on in waves, like a low, throbbing pain. A scar, leftover from a past injury. A sunset from days long past that once meant so much, but was now just a facsimile of what it once was. Demoreo. Demoreo wasn¡¯t there anymore, but Demoreo once was. Demoreo. That was his name, wasn¡¯t it? His name. Remember it. The woman told him to remember; she wrote it all down, wrote it all down to remember. He must remember, he must fight the darkness and the rage.


    Demoreo. That was his name. He was Demoreo.


    * * *


    ¡°Dad,¡± the voice echoed through his halls, bouncing from room-to-room and into his mind. ¡°Dad! You gotta get up!¡± His eyes darted open, the sun-bleached everything in sight, his mouth was dried up and the words could form but barely escape.


    ¡°T-Tyler,¡± he reached out for his son¡¯s hand; it was warm, clammy to the touch compared to his. There was a wound festering on his leg. The maggots had already set up shop, and the stench of death had followed them throughout the wasteland. ¡°Let me go,¡± he mumbled. ¡°Just go.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t leave you, not yet,¡± he was a good boy, older than he had any right to be, that the world had any right to expect of him. He should¡¯ve been worried about starting high school. Instead, he was dragging his father towards an oasis in the middle of a destroyed city while Shar followed. ¡°It¡¯s so close now, just look,¡± the boy held Demoreo¡¯s head up, the gaudy ¡°BRANCH¡± sign in bold, red letters sat atop the last standing monument to Las Vegas.


    ¡°Go on without me, you gotta,¡± he said.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you can. We¡¯ve come so far, just a little further.¡±


    ¡°Not without you.¡±


    ¡°Shar, please,¡± Demoreo called out to his wife. She had suffered enough trauma that she had more-or-less shut down. Just like the dead they had encountered, she was a husk of a person.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Just think of Marie, Shar. Please, we¡¯ve come this far. I know we lost our baby, but Tyler needs you. We¡¯ve come so far.¡±


    ¡°What does it matter, anyway?¡± She asked, not expecting an answer. ¡°We¡¯re all doomed.¡±


    ¡°Tyler,¡± Demoreo reached out for his son¡¯s face, Tyler grabbing a hold of his hand in his own. ¡°Just please, get your ma to safety, get her to the tower. You¡¯ll be safe there, I just know it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re a family,¡± Tyler said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that? Isn¡¯t that why we¡¯re here? We¡¯re a family.¡±


    With a mighty push of all of his collected strength, Demoreo sat up, pushing back against the remnants of a roadside barrier that was propping him up. The skeletal remains of the Las Vegas highway system hung overhead, pylons without roads to support reaching out to the sky, twisted and bent like a withered, dying tree. Fallen ash had all blended together with the crumbled rock and steel from the buildings to create a solid sheen of grit beneath them. Blood soaked through the dressing on his leg, it being more ornamental than functional.


    As much as it pained him to admit, he was dying. The sun beat down on them from above unobstructed, but he felt a chill coursing through his body. Each breath took tremendous effort, taking more and more out of him. Tyler¡¯s eyes were red and swollen, tears stained his cheeks, and his shirt was barely holding onto his body. He was a sturdy boy; he had done well, but he couldn¡¯t forget about Marie and that dumb mistake of letting her go into that old pawn shop to look around on her own. Fuck anyone who said the undead weren¡¯t motherfuckers, because they tore into his baby and he had to finish it before she turned. He had to look her in those big, brown eyes, hair matted to her forehead while she begged him to not let her become a monster.


    ¡°Dad? Dad?¡± The boy shook him, tearing him from his reverie.


    ¡°Ya,¡± he said, fighting to remain conscious, ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°We gotta go. It¡¯s getting dark, and it¡¯s just a ways down the road, see?¡± He pointed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±


    ¡°Ma ain¡¯t gonna make it without us, dad...¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said, trying to pull himself up and stumbling. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± Tyler pulled Demoreo¡¯s arm up and wrapped it over his shoulder. He was still just a boy, but he was strong, strong enough to make it in that hellscape and strong enough to remind Demoreo to keep pushing. But this wasn¡¯t what he wanted for him, not by a longshot. Tyler was an artist. He was a sensitive boy who cared little for sports like his old man did. But he was strong. With a heft he made it to his feet, leaning on Tyler¡¯s lythe frame. ¡°C¡¯mon, ma.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± she said, following while Demoreo limped alongside his son.


    The wound was from one of those zombies; it had ambushed them when they were crossing the Hoover Dam, catching him by surprise and latching onto his thigh. Fucker took a huge chunk outta him, too. It bled like a bastard. Tyler told him he was lucky it didn¡¯t hit some sort of artery nearby, but it still bled. Shar had worked at an old folks¡¯ home back in Flagstaff, so she was able to wrap him up and dress it, but it wasn¡¯t like they had much to work with. Infection came swift and hard, spreading like wildfire. He didn¡¯t like to look at it much and the pain was a constant, so it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d ever forget.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    They were making their way down South Las Vegas Blvd, known as ¡°The Strip¡± in a time before the fall, lined with overbearing edifices that were the casino resorts the city was known for. Now it all had been demolished, smoothed over by the blast, the fall, the ash and the winds. The street bore a closer resemblance to a barren desert, with the occasional hunk of man-made splendor fighting its way through the desolation. Branch Tower beamed out through the hazy dusk sky, a lone beacon calling to them on the horizon.


    ¡°Sure looks weird,¡± Tyler commented, ¡°just sitting there like nothing happened and all.¡±


    ¡°Sure does,¡± Demoreo groaned.


    ¡°You think we¡¯ll be okay there?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± he said, ¡°but we gotta hope, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so. Who was this guy again? Some sort of scientist?¡±


    ¡°The guy,¡± Demoreo said while they trudged forward, doing his best to push forward through the pain.


    ¡°He¡¯s the guy who fucked it all up,¡± Shar interjected. ¡°Some big, fancy white asshole that felt that he knew better. Well, he knew better, alright.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Tyler fell silent.


    Jordan Branch felt like an illusion more than anything else, a character from a TV show that had nothing to do with the Johnson family down in Arizona. There were stories¡ªa lot of them¡ªabout whatever role he may have played, but out in the wasteland he was a legend, working on a cure for the undead in his tower that survived the fall of society. It had all sounded too good to be true, yet there it was, closer with each pained step.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there,¡± Demoreo broke the silence with. He needed to remain strong, to keep pushing forward. They just had to make it to the building, then he could rest, then he¡¯d know that his family was safe.


    ¡°Where ya headed?¡± Tyler dropped his father at the sound of a voice, Demoreo craning his neck to see an older man emerge from the rubble of a broken down building, the bottom floor looking partially intact. His skin was pallid and devoid of any color, while his skin looking like someone had peeled it off, dried out in the sun and then stretched over a pile of bones. The old man was eyeballing them, either amazed to see another set of living beings or that he had seen no one of color in years.


    ¡°To Branch Tower, sir,¡± Tyler responded, clearly scared.


    ¡°Branch Tower, eh?¡± The old man approached, Demoreo summoning what little of his strength remained to reach for the shotgun that was slung over his shoulder. ¡°Just a short ways now for ya, then.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°That yer dad there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Looks mighty hurt. Ya think he¡¯ll even make it that far?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll... I¡¯ll make it,¡± Demoreo groaned.


    ¡°Strong one, this one. You got yourself a strong pa, boy.¡±


    Demoreo¡¯s hand was on the gun, but it felt heavy, just like everything else around him was. Tyler was keeping him up and keeping it together. That boy was gonna be something someday.


    ¡°Ya think that Branch¡¯ll care for ¡®em? Lookit us, just poor lepers left out here to rot in the wasteland while he¡¯s up there sipping brandy and fuckin¡¯ whores¡ªno offense, m¡¯am,¡± he looked at Shar and licked his lips.


    ¡°We¡¯ve really gotta be going,¡± Tyler said, reaching down for his father¡¯s arm and hoisting him back up.


    ¡°I see, I see.¡± The man¡¯s beady eyes were burning a hole through them. ¡°Boy,¡± he reached out and tugged on Tyler¡¯s shoulder, the boy jerking to the side and Demoreo falling to the ground in a heap. ¡°I¡¯m trying to help you, here.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need your help.¡±


    ¡°But you do! Your father will be torn limb-from-limb by Branch¡¯s sentinels. Don¡¯t you s¡¯pose if Branch took any ole¡¯ wastelander we¡¯d be up there, sippin¡¯ martinis and fucking broads dry? Not out here, not in the forsaken wastes scavenging for every scrap of food? Don¡¯t be a fool, boy.¡±


    ¡°The boy says we¡¯re good,¡± Demoreo said.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the brave one, old man? Your boy, your woman and you, all headin¡¯ for the green grass of Branch Tower. Gonna frolick in dem irradiated hills, too? It¡¯s all a fuckin¡¯ lie.¡±


    ¡°Just let us go,¡± Demoreo summoned the strength to raise the gun towards the man, who recoiled before a wry smile unfolded across his pale skin.


    ¡°So brave,¡± he said, ¡°so tough.¡±


    ¡°Back off.¡±


    ¡°Dad...¡± Tyler leaned in to pick him up, Demoreo swatting him away.


    ¡°Tyler, I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    ¡°Dad, no, let¡¯s just go...¡±


    ¡°Your boy is quite brave as well,¡± the man said, ¡°but he¡¯s wrong. You can¡¯t go. I was giving you a chance before, a chance to join us, but now...¡±


    ¡°You back the fuck off!¡± Demoreo shouted, finger trembling by the trigger while he could hardly hold himself up.


    ¡°Oh come now, you can barely keep yourself up, big poppa,¡± he said, approaching with his hand extended. ¡°Your boy has seen enough horrors, hasn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Just leave us be and nobody gets hurt,¡± Demoreo said, trying to control his breathing.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have the¡ª¡°


    Boom. The shell shredded his skull, sending blood and gore flying, splattering all over Demoreo and Tyler, who stood in shock while the body fell to the ground in a pool of blood. Tyler fell to his knees, aghast in horror. Demoreo had killed before, but Tyler had never had to see it. He had always helped his mom away before anything happened, but this time was different. There wasn¡¯t a choice.


    ¡°Tyler,¡± he said, hands trembling from the shot and ears ringing, looking at his awestruck son. ¡°Son, please, get your mom and let¡¯s get out of here.¡±


    The boy stayed there, frozen in place, while the body twitched on the ground.


    ¡°Tyler!¡± he shouted. ¡°There might be more, c¡¯mon.¡±


    Tyler was reaching down for him, but Demoreo knew he couldn¡¯t keep going and that he¡¯d just drag them both down. Imagine that, just steps away from salvation, from the tower, then Demoreo Johnson goes and ruins the whole damned thing by being a goddamned bump on a log. Demoreo brushed his son¡¯s hand away, Tyler reaching again and Demoreo slapping it away with whatever might he had left.


    ¡°Dad, no...¡±


    ¡°I told you to leave me, now leave me, damnit!¡± The tears were blurring his vision beyond what it already was, his glasses lost on one of their first days out in the wastes; dropped, smashed, forgotten.


    ¡°No, daddy, please,¡± the boy plead, ¡°We need you.¡±


    ¡°Goddamnit, Tyler,¡± Demoreo tried to prop himself up against a chunk of concrete from a fallen building, but he slipped and was on his back again. ¡°Just go, now,¡± his words were slurring, the world dimming.


    ¡°He don¡¯t look so good,¡± Shar muttered, ¡°c¡¯mon, boy, let your father rest. We¡¯ll find help, okay, sweetie?¡± Her words were meant to be comforting, but the tone of her voice was that of resignation. She knew, he thought, of course she knew this was it.


    ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± He pulled away from her. ¡°We can¡¯t just leave him to die! Not after all of this!¡±


    The boy¡¯s hands were on him again, Demoreo doing his best to sweep the boy away, but he was strong, stronger than whatever was left inside of Demoreo. That boy would make something of himself yet, even in this fucked up world, he¡¯d be something. Of all the things that could be final thoughts, that one was a soothing one; Tyler would be alright, he¡¯d survive.


    ¡°Dad, c¡¯mon,¡± the boy shook him again, Demoreo summoning every ounce of strength and pulling the shotgun up and pointing it at Shar.


    ¡°Go now, boy, don¡¯t make me do it.¡±


    Tyler froze in place, his body trembling. Demoreo could feel the boy¡¯s heart break, but there would always be more. Shotgun blasts weren¡¯t subtle, and dragging him along was just a liability. They needed to get the hell outta there, and fast. He had gotten them this far.


    ¡°But...¡±


    ¡°I got you this far, just go, finish it.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t, I...¡±


    ¡°Go,¡± he pointed the gun at his son, his heart breaking into a million pieces. His last memory wouldn¡¯t be of his sturdy son moving out to save himself and his mother, but the look on his face at his father pointing a gun at him.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, baby,¡± Shar tugged Tyler by the shirt, ¡°it¡¯s just up ahead, we¡¯ll get help.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Tyler asked, fighting through the tears. ¡°Why?¡±

 3. The Crusher

    Branch¡¯s coliseum was grandiose, as magnificent as anything could be in a world that was overrun by the walking dead and ground to ashes from nuclear weapons could be. Demoreo stood in the arena that first time, feeling as naked and vulnerable as he was, only a stranger in his own skin. The crowd gasped, gawked, and marveled at Demoreo, at what he had become through Branch¡¯s experiments. He was unlike anything that they had ever seen; a true ghast among a cornucopia of horrors.


    Fear. Was this what he had become? Loathing.


    Demoreo was special. Branch had made that clear to him. All his other projects had been failures, insults not worthy of a god. Branch believed himself to be a hair away from learning the key to immortality, to being superhuman, and Demoreo was the missing link. Before it was either death or death and reanimation, but never sustained life, added strength or abilities. That all changed with Demoreo, Branch¡¯s great breakthrough, or, as they introduced him to the arena spectators, the Crusher. The changes gripped him more with each passing day, his body alien, uncomfortable, and his mind foggy. His mind was slipping. Details that came naturally were slipping from his grasp until they dissipated, forcing him to repeat his name to himself ad nauseam, just so he wouldn¡¯t forget.


    The constructed images in his head of Shar, Tyler and Marie were fading with each passing day, which made him weep every night when the guards had all stopped paying attention. He stood out in the sunlight again, after what felt an eternity in darkness, or barricaded away in the depths of Branch¡¯s laboratory, being tested on night and day without pause. Sunlight pierced through him like millions of tiny needles. The once-familiar sight was now alien and painful where it was once soothing and invigorating. Tonight¡¯s crowd was hungry, bloodthirsty, and impatient. Rage. There it was, bubbling up and creeping through his subconsciousness. He had been fighting, remembering, which only made the rage come on harder. He glanced around, hoping to glance at Shar and Tyler¡¯s faces in the crowd, but there were so many faces, all of them unfamiliar and distorted, crying for violence.


    A thundering clang cut through the buzz of the crowd as two armored guards peeled the mighty iron doors across the arena from him open. A hush washed over the crowd, but from this distance Demoreo saw nothing, just a dark hallway across the massive arena. What was coming next was beyond his power. The rage would overtake him, it would drown out his consciousness and force him to feed on the flesh of the living and undead. All of it would unfold in front of a crowd, no longer in a darkened cell in private. The guards had ensured that he had eaten nothing in days, and the hunger was growing with every passing moment. Whatever had taken over his body and mind was a good parasite, and it did what it had to do to survive, even if it meant overtaking the host.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± an announcer¡¯s voice boomed over the arena. ¡°Tonight Jordan Branch presents to you, the disgusting cannibal of the Wasteland, the Crusher!¡±


    The crowd roared while the guard poked him in the back with the muzzle of his rifle. ¡°C¡¯mon, Crusher, Branch wants you to play to the crowd.¡± Demoreo turned around to face the guard, only for three others to swarm in, guns pointed at him, motioning for him to turn around. They feared him, knowing what he was capable of.


    ¡°My god, he¡¯s a lively one, isn¡¯t he?¡± the announcer boomed again. ¡°Tonight we will see the Crusher against an entire horde of the undead. Can the terror of the Wasteland outlast them? Only time will tell!¡± He boomed. ¡°It¡¯s feeding time!¡±


    The crowd fell silent while the groaning emerged from the tunnel across the arena. The sounds of the approaching undead had triggered something inside of him, and the dark cloud rolled in over his mind. Fists clenched, he advanced towards the tunnel. If he was to live as a monster for the rest of his life, how bad would it be to just have it all end here? To fight, to not let the monster take hold and to die while he could still remember the face of his children? Death would be the only thing that he was in control of because it was his and his alone. Not Jordan Branch¡¯s.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The only thing standing in the way of this noble death was the boiling rage flowing through his veins. Rage was bubbling up inside of him, overtaking his personality and clouding whatever logical thoughts were left inside of his mind. A few of the undead emerged from the blackness, moaning and shuffling towards him, the guards with stun batons to herd them. The crowd roared and all that Demoreo could think about was ripping them all¡ªundead and the alive¡ªlimb from limb. His senses were dulling, the fog inside of his brain solidifying to the point of blocking everything else out, the rage overtaking him. He stumbled, falling down to one knee while the pain inside of his head grew. That pain, that blackness had overtaken him before and the only way that he knew to stop it was to let go, let it encompass his being, to let the monster take charge.


    There was a dual-residency inside of his head; a struggle for dominance as to which personality would exist and eventually only one would remain. Demoreo, he whispered. Demoreo, your name is Demoreo. The pain inside of his mind intensified while the horde closed in on him. Demoreo, your name is Demoreo. A sudden jolt filled his body, a set of rotten teeth digging into his shoulder. He let out a mighty roar, exploding to his feet, flinging the few undead that had clutched onto him off to the ground.


    In one swift motion, his foot came down like a piston, crushing the skull of the one who had bits of his flesh still in its maw. He grabbed another around its decaying throat, its menacing tongue lashing out, a hiss emanating from inside of it. He hoisted the monster into the air before its skull came crashing down onto the packed dirt, exploding upon impact. Crusher let out a mighty roar while another two hobbled toward him.


    He reached down and grabbed a hold of a leg, using his might to fling it aside, taking the whole body with it. The body flew, but the leg remained in his hand, finding its way into his jaws. He tore a sizeable chunk of meat off from the leg before tossing it aside, another clawing at him. This one he grabbed by the top of the head, leaning down and sinking his oversized teeth into the monster¡¯s stomach. With one tug there were entrails spilling onto the ground, the monster still hissing at him before he tore the head from the body, tossing it into the crowd, forcing a panic among the first two rows.


    He was at least three times the size of them surrounding him, meaning that they stood no chance. There were no human thoughts left, just rage, just hunger, just destruction. The crowd was under control again, screaming in joy while he ripped through each one that stood before him, taking pieces into his jaw when he saw fit, other times tearing them limb-from-limb much to the delight of the crowd.


    A commotion came from his right, him turning to see that a member of the crowd had fallen in. A woman in the front row was screaming, crying out, reaching for a man that had tumbled from the stands who lay flat on the ground trying to regain his senses. Crusher dropped the twitching body from his hands and stomped over towards the man, who was attempting to scramble to his feet. The guards stood silent, watching. Their orders weren¡¯t to save anyone, their orders were to clean up.


    ¡°No, please! Someone help him!¡± The woman shrieked, a few guards surrounding her, taking her by the arms and restraining her. ¡°Jonah no! Please!¡±


    It was only a matter of a few steps before the Crusher stood before the man, blood and guts dripping from his maw and streaking down his muscled chest like a primitive beast on the hunt. Demoreo, he heard in his mind. Your name is Demoreo. A sharp pang traveled through his head, causing him to pull back, before the cloud washed back over him, the man¡¯s torso in his grasp having the life squeezed out of him.


    Rage.


    ¡°No, ple¡ª¡± The man was pleading, but the Crusher was hungry. Always hungry. Restraining himself only amplified the pain in his mind, making the choice a simple one.


    The head popped inside of his mouth like a water balloon against a warm summer¡¯s day sidewalk, squishing and crunching while the body fell limp in his hand. He tore off an arm like he was munching on a game hen, a natural and effortless thing for him to do, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the guards approaching him in defensive postures. The body flew towards two of the guards, knocking them to the ground before he felt the sharp pain of the taser throughout his body, falling to his knees, blackness flooding through his mind. Demoreo, he heard his voice say inside of his head. Demoreo.

 4. The Brawler

    Life prior to the fall was a distant mirage to William. There were still those fleeting, hazy memories of his rain-soaked home in Britain. Not that any of that mattered now. It was all bullshit now; he chuckled while he heaved his tank-like body from the bed, taking special care to not disturb the women on either side of him. He couldn''t help himself, though, his hand slapping the ass of the one on the right. The blonde with the perky tits, Jenna. She giggled and moaned while he slunk off of the bed and onto the floor, pulling a bottle of scotch off of the nightstand.


    "Baby, where are you going?" Jenna murmured, still in a haze.


    "Just need a nip an'' a walk, that alright, innit?" He picked himself up, snatching the red kimono with the kanji on the back that spelled out "Metsu-Ken" off of the chair across from the bed and lazily draping it over himself, trying to tie the belt with the bottle still in his hand. His hand quaked like it had been doing for months now, requiring a deep breath to keep it from showing.


    "But baby," she said, rubbing her eyes, "you know you are in the arena tonight."


    "Oh, I am," he said, taking another burning pull from the bottle. "Just need a l¡¯il air s''all."


    The top half of Branch Tower was residential, with the topmost few floors being reserved for those of the utmost importance, a category that William fell into, even if he had to earn his way into the elite. Everyone knew him as the brawler; the man with the taped fists who would enter the arena with the British flag draped over his shoulders like a cape before he put on some of the wildest brawls that Branch''s arena had ever seen. They cheered, laughed and hung on his every motion, which helped turn him into a god of Branch''s new society.


    William was a hero in Branch Tower, and Jordan Branch himself had promised him the retirement that he was due for. Soon, very soon. In fact, he believed that very night would be the night that the "British Brawler" William Farrington retired from the arena. William was a hero, a tall tale, and of late they were feeding him bums to fight. Maybe it was that Branch ran out of anyone willing to fight to the death in the arena anymore, or that his legend had grown out of proportion for them. He was never sure of which, but he was sure that his time was coming to a close. Still, he felt a little like a hero. Maybe after he got to retire, he could finally sleep through the night.


    The only one that he hadn''t fought yet was the Crusher, but he was always sure that the arena''s two favorites would be kept separate, at least for now. With William on the way out, it meant that none of it would ever need to concern him again. He would only be a spectator at the fights from then on, not the main event anymore. A part of him would miss the roar of the crowd, the adrenaline pumping through his veins while he fended off hordes of the undead and whatever warrior had shown up at their doorstep. The rest of him just wanted it all to be over already. There was only so much self-medicating he could do to forget everything.


    Some would categorize Branch as a monster, organizing fights between the living and other survivors, sometimes against the undead or even beasts from the Wasteland, but not William. William understood well enough that there was only limited space in Branch''s new world that he was building and that his skills were important enough to gain him the trust of the most important man left in this world, Branch.


    William had found his way to Branch Tower like everyone else had; through stories, conjecture, and desire to survive. He was so far removed from his home at that point, with no hope of ever returning, that it seemed like the only thing to do was find a way to Branch''s compound. His brother, Stuart, had been with him throughout their journey from what was California to the desert of Las Vegas.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Everything along the way was decimated or in some state of disrepair. Stuart and he had holed up in a shelter when the bombs dropped, but they knew they couldn''t live there forever. They spent an entire year inside of that shelter until one night in a fight over some rations, Stuart had slit the throat of of their de facto-leader''s son. That was the critical mass leading to their exodus, leaving them no choice but to run. They would have to survive topside, in what was left of the world.


    Will stumbled down the dimly lit hall of Branch Tower, hearing the fountain from the common area and laughing to himself at the luxury he found himself in. Their escape from the shelter was a bloody one, Stuart had snapped and had stabbed at least three of the men who attempted to come after him, with William forced to drag his brother away from the fight, subduing anyone in their way to the door. Women were crying, children were cowering while the two boys from Brighton brawled their way out of the shelter. The shelter itself was a dismal abomination of families huddled in corners and hoarding their supplies from each other.


    Warm, arid wind whipped at them outside of the shelter, with the unfamiliar sunlight blinding them after their extended stay underground in a dimly lit, incandescent hole in the ground. The landscape that laid barren and still before them took Will''s breath away at the moment, so much so that he didn''t hear the heavy iron door slamming shut behind them and latching. Everyone had lived in fear of the outside world, but Will and Stuart had known that their time there was running out. The food was growing scarce, tempers were flaring, and Stuart was finding himself in more and more jams that Will had to pull him out of.


    Their arrival in Los Angeles had been on a vacation across the United States. They were on a trip to clear their minds after their mother had passed on from cancer. Stuart had taken it worse than Will had and was getting into more trouble than Will could deal with, so he arranged for their great American trip. Little did either know that they''d never see home again, instead find themselves stranded in the American wastelands after the fall. Sand and ash had swept throughout what was once a great city, the Earth reclaiming what humanity had taken from it and helped to destroy. Buildings had crumbled and what was left of them had become overgrown with plant life, like the Earth was trying to reclaim what belonged to it. They dared not go into any of those old buildings, though, for fear of what could have been lingering inside still, or worse yet, random collapses. Their journey towards Branch Tower was a solemn march, most of it spent in relative silence. Stuart''s clothes stained with the blood of the people he had stabbed, and neither had muttered a single word about it. The trip took them over two months, in part because of the terrain, but also from the survivors. When the undead first appeared, the panic was undeniable, but there was a sense of control after a few weeks. That was until the bombs dropped. That was when they realized that they''d never see home again, and that all hope was for fools. There were a few shuffling undead along the way to Las Vegas, but they were few and far between on their journey. Most of their problems came from the living.


    Will first killed a living man halfway into the trip when an older man with a pistol and an itchy trigger finger accosted them. He was hungry; he had said, and he wanted their food. He''d let them live if they handed it over. Stuart had wanted none of that, of course, brandishing his knife and lunging at the old man who began firing. A shot had whizzed over Will''s head before he pushed Stuart aside and buried his shoulder into the old man''s ribs. The old man was on the ground in an instant, Will on top, smashing away at his face with his knuckles and elbows until the old man drew his last pained breath. He had continued to smash at the man''s battered skull, unsure of the possibility of the old man reanimating and wanting to be sure, but it took Stuart dragging him off of the old man for him to realize what had happened. That incident became another that the brothers refused to speak of, with the fear of retelling the events out loud, making them more real or horrific. Will still saw that fucker¡¯s broken skull every night in his dreams, no matter how much he drank.


    Along the way, they had run into some trouble with a few slavers, but that turned into a silent affair for both brothers, serving as the place where Vera came into their lives. The poor girl. Neither one of them had spoken much after picking her up, just grunts and nods for the rest of their journey before they reached their destination. When Branch Tower crested over the horizon, a lone marvel of man''s endurance and perseverance, their silence was finally broken. "Quite a fuckin'' sight, innit?" Stuart muttered.


    "Aye," he had agreed.

 5. The Brawler

    "That fire," Branch said, brandishing a smile and rubbing his hands together. "I know that you''ll be tremendous tonight, a star. No... No, my star."


    "Aye," Will said, Branch''s hands grasping onto his broad shoulders. "Well, I''m ready to knock some heads off."


    "Good," Jordan said. "That is what I want to hear! You see, Will, can I call you Will?"


    "Why not?" He shrugged.


    "Well Will, we''ve known each other for a while now, right?"


    "Aye, that we have Mr. Branch," William was sitting on a bench in the dark underbelly of the arena, pulling his gear on. A gauntlet on his right hand had become his signature; him using it, the cave in the skulls of the shuffling undead and any of the living that they tossed at him. The spikes made for an imposing visual, but the electromagnetic charge that pulsated through whoever it contacted was the actual killer. He had even given a name for that punch, the dreaded Metsu-Ken, which in Japanese meant "Destroy Punch." At least, that¡¯s what someone had told him. That what was he did, though; he destroyed lives with that punch, and they all ate it up.


    "Oh please, Will. Call me Jordan," he assured him. They hadn''t known each other all that well, but Branch had taken a serious liking to him of late, which didn''t bother William that much because it was all business at this point. Branch was arguably one of the most powerful men in the world. For all that he or anyone else around knew, Branch was the only powerful man left. There was always this vain hope that there was life and society thriving elsewhere, but Branch painted a rather vivid portrait of how the rest of the world was in chaos and how it was on them to survive, to thrive and to rebuild after all of this time. He should know. He still has a working helicopter.


    "Alright, Jordan, then."


    "Good, good," he said. "Tonight is a special night. Tonight we add to our menagerie of sorts, our society that we are rebuilding from the ground up."


    "That''s a good ''un, innit?"


    "It is. It is."


    "What''s this addition now then?"


    "The addition is hope, my good friend. It is hope in the way of a new survivor, one that everyone will recognize. He''s more than a man to most of them, he''s many men, he''s a memory of our past opulence and also of our triumphs."


    "Some sort of hero?"


    "A hero, yes," he said. "Are you familiar with TK Gabriel?"Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "He''s that picture badass, innit he?"


    "That he is, that he is."


    "He''s here? Fuck off."


    "No, really," Branch was staring off into the distance. "He showed up at our doorstep this afternoon. I believe he could be a turning point for our little society here. He''s a symbol of hope, a symbol of what existed before all of this."


    "That''s good, right?"


    "It is, and it isn''t. He''s a symbol of a world that no longer exists and can no longer exist. He hasn''t stated that he''d do it yet. In fact, I haven''t brought it up yet, but I want him to fight in the arena. I want him to fight you."


    "Oh."


    "I wouldn''t worry about it," he chuckled. "He''s a movie star. Yes, he''s survived out there in the wilds for years, but you are the best fighter we have. There''s no way that he can take you. Will, you are a hero to these people. You are the hero that was created in the Wasteland. You are the new hope, he is the old hope. Do you see what I''m getting at here?"


    "Aye," he nodded. "You want me to call the bugger out?"


    "Yes. I want him to fight in the arena. I want it all to lead up to a final showdown between the two of you. A battle for the ages, a battle to the death. Your retirement from the arena coming by crushing one of the old gods. I''m salivating at the very thought of it, aren''t you?"


    "Sounds like my kinda plan," he tightened the gauntlet around his hand. "What about Stuart?"


    "Ahh yes, your brother," Branch paused. "Stuart and Viktor are a vital part of my security forces. I don''t believe that either has any intention of retiring anytime soon."


    "No," he said, "s''pose not. The Twin Terrors will continue on."


    "They will. They are simply too good at what they do to stop just yet. You shouldn''t be worried about them. It''s not like either of you can return home, either. There''s no home to return to, your home is here now, your place is here as the beloved Brawler of the Wasteland."


    "Suppose so," he said. Will picked himself up and did one last check on his gear. The gauntlet sat snug around his fist and a bandolier of throwing knives hung from his shoulder. Those knives were mostly for show. There wasn''t much use for them now that he had the gauntlet, and he hadn''t had to use them since his earliest fights. Instead, it was all about the Metsu-Ken. His right hand is what most wanted to see now, with that electrified gauntlet that gave him that boost in power that he needed to put on a good show. Power surged through it on contact and usually exploding the heads of anyone that he touched with it.


    A sullen sigh escaped from Will, knowing that he''d still have to keep fighting, knowing that his retirement wasn''t in order just yet. Not that it mattered, anyway, it just meant more violence, more killing and more feeling adrift and lost for him. None of that was anything new. He took a swig from a small bottle of scotch that he had tucked into his bandolier, emptying it and tossing it onto the concrete, it shattering into pieces on impact. Hopefully, at least, it meant that he was being saved for something and that he''d have an easy time out there compared to past battles. There were a few that were close calls, those were the few battles he didn''t almost return from, and they marked his body up with those scars until the day that he died to remind him of it. That wouldn''t be tonight, at least. No, not tonight, because tonight he was the champion. The Brawler of the Wasteland and Jordan Branch had a plan for him. That made him special, or at least more special than those other poor knobs that Branch fed to him..


    "Are you all prepared for battle then, my champion?" Branch reached out and grasped onto William''s shoulders.


    "Aye."


    "Good. I''ll leave you to it. To battle, my friend!"


    "Aye, to battle!"

 6. The Engineer

    Vera let out a sigh while she reached over the edge of the bed and gathered up her clothing. She''d pull the sheet up around her, but Will''s other girl, whom she always had to remind herself was named Jenna, was back to sleeping after Will had left the room. No matter how often it happened, she still felt awful about her role in Branch''s "new world." Her whole life was wading out into the deep waters, fighting against the current, and working her way up from relative poverty in Sao Paulo before making her way to the United States to study aerospace engineering. That move made her family both proud and conflicted; their baby girl, Vera, would leave home to make them all proud, but would she ever look back?


    Granted, at the time the distance felt nothing short of rapturous and liberating, but in retrospect, she wished she had appreciated it more. Brazil was her home, but it was a restrictive existence that she led there. There was always a nagging feeling that she didn''t quite belong, no matter where she went or what her family told her. Yet all that she could wish for while cooped up in Branch Tower was to be back in Brazil again, even during Carnival, when the streets were overrun with tourists and festival goers. None of that existed anymore and would most likely never return, but she missed it just the same. Vera was living in Southern California, working through her first real internship, when everything fell apart. Since then, even the concept of being able to reach someone back home felt like a pipedream, knowing in her heart that there couldn''t be much left.


    In Jordan Branch''s new world, there was no room for an aerospace engineer, especially one that happened to be female. Oh no, while Jordan Branch was rebuilding humanity in his image, there was no room for women to move ahead. Vera had never considered herself conventionally beautiful while growing up, nor was she pursued much by anyone outside of her nerdy friend, Roger. As an adult, she was curvy by most measures of a society that seemed obsessed with being thin, although she would never call herself fat. In this new world she looked more like a Greek goddess, only, you know, Brazilian. Survival was the only thing on her mind and her time in Branch Tower felt tenuous at best, so she didn''t cause any trouble, especially after seeing what happened to anyone who caused a stir in Branch''s new world. Those that caused trouble were outfitted in leather, given clubs, and told to fight for their lives in the arena. The problem wasn''t that she couldn''t fight; it was that if Branch wanted you dead in the arena, you''d be dead in the arena. Will wasn''t one to be wanted dead because he was their champion and he was special. That was why she latched onto him, even if she found him to be a disgusting louse most of the time.


    Everyone knew that Jenna and Vera were earmarked for Will, which meant that they were mostly left alone, what with Will being the chosen one and all. That thought sent a chill down her spine. Vera was just thankful at this point that she had never gotten pregnant. To be fair, Will wasn''t a monster by any stretch of the imagination. There was never a time where she found him forcing her to do anything, nor did he get out of control when he was drunk or high. When he was drunk, he''d just get tired and pass out. If high, he''d just get silly, and they''d sit around and talk about the world before it all fell down. Things were also compounded because he was a solid lay, too. She thought back to her friends in college and how most would have been disgusted by the thought of her somehow being seen as a live-in servant to some guy, but the world had changed and her time living with William was far from the worst of the horrors that she had seen. She wasn''t subservient, either, seeing as though she had a workshop of her own that she maintained, and if she wasn''t in the mood for his bullshit, she''d escape down to it to clear her mind. If people wanted to think that their arrangement was sexual, that was fine with her, as long as she got to do what she wanted to and wasn''t pestered by anyone else.


    She shuddered at the memory of the shelter that she was holed up in when the raid happened. Death surrounded them at every turn, the masked raiders killing every man and child in sight, but sparing the women. Sparing was perhaps not the correct word for it, but they were still technically alive, herded into an old box truck and transported around the wasteland. The raiders never touched them, which struck her as odd until she heard the sales pitch they made, "pristine beauties" they called them, letting whoever purchased them do as they please with these undisturbed mirages of the wasteland.


    The truck traversed the wasteland and the ranks of the women in the truck shrunk with each stop, the younger ones moving first, along with the skinnier ones. Vera could only imagine what was happening to them, but she had kept to herself in the shelter and on the bumpy trip through the wasteland. This was about her survival and as much as she would have liked to have saved everyone, she knew it was not possible, not in this new world. There were only three of them left when the truck had stopped, one of the masked men opening up the back for them and tossing them a few bottles of water. The heat was overwhelming in there, and the water was a welcomed reprieve. She had studied these stops and thought about running, but they were all armed and she wasn''t sure how she''d get away without being killed.


    That last stop, though, was the first time that she saw William. There was a commotion from the outside, raised voices and the sound of a scuffle. Two of those voices were new, distinctly British and, well, different. A few gunshots rang out. The other two girls cowering back towards the back of the box behind some crates of food while Vera felt her heart throbbing in her chest. This could be her chance, this could be the only chance that she ever got to break free from that forsaken truck and make a run for it. She peered around the side of the truck only to see the guy that had just thrown them some water laying in a pool of his own blood in the dust, a handgun laying at his side.


    Vera slipped out and scrambled for the gun, only to look up and see the massive man that she now knows as William standing over her, blood dripping from his fists with one man gripped in his left hand, hanging limp while his right hand hovered over him. "Oh, hello there," he said, sounding surprised.


    "Um," she looked down at the gun, but hesitated. "Hi?"


    "Were these fuckers keepin'' you back there?"


    "Yeah," she said. "They''ve been selling us off."


    "Pig fuckers," he spat at the man in his hands, letting the body drop to the ground. Vera remained frozen in place, waiting for his next move. "Oh, uh, were you going to pick that up?" He pointed down at the gun.


    She nodded.


    "''ere," he kicked it over towards her. "Take it, never much cared for ''em myself."


    "Uh," she paused before snatching it up. "Okay, thanks, I guess?"


    "No problem," he turned around. "''ey Stuart."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "What?" Another British voice rang out.


    "You done with ''em yet?"


    "I guess, why?"


    "There''s some food back there, we should check it out."


    "Whatever."


    "Thanks," she said to him. "I''m just gonna grab some food and water, is that okay?"


    "Of course, lass," he said in a jovial voice, a tone shift from before. "We''re headed to Branch Tower."


    "We are in Las Vegas?" She hadn''t known how far they had traveled, but apparently pretty far.


    "Pretty much," he said. "Stuart and me are heading there, if you wanted to, you know, tag along or something."


    There wasn''t much conversation to be had on their way to Branch Tower, just the occasional stop for food, while William and Stuart reminisced about home. From what she had gathered, they were brothers and were on vacation to the United States when the first attack hit, finding themselves trapped in an underground vault before they were kicked out. Now they were heading to the only other place they knew of where there were people and food, which was the home of Jordan Branch. Vera didn''t have a preference where she ended up. She just wanted to survive. Someone with her background, though, might be of some use at Branch''s lab. The talk of him working to rebuild society through science and creating a haven was murmured about throughout the wasteland. She had to imagine that there weren''t many actual rocket scientists holed up in his facility and that she''d be of use to them.


    When they happened upon Branch Tower after a few days of walking, it was unlike anything that she had ever witnessed before. The tower stood there like a beacon in the night amidst nothing but sand, dust, and rubble. What struck her the most was that it was pristine. Somehow, Branch Tower survived the nuclear holocaust without a single scratch on it. The building and whole compound was a marvel of modern engineering, standing tall as a monument to mankind''s ingenuity and ability to survive. The feeling that wafted over her at that moment was complicated, but she equated it with hope. It felt like hope for once.


    That feeling dissipated when Stuart was screaming and already in a fight. They had sicced the proverbial dogs on them. A herd of Branch''s walking dead that was about twenty strong were shambling towards them. William motioned for Vera to stay back. But somehow it felt wrong to not jump into the fray with them, especially at the thought of being left alone in the wasteland if anything were to happen to them. She stayed near the edges first, watching both of their backs while they waded into the sea of monsters and began swinging. One thing that she would give the both of them, they enjoyed a good fight. Stuart was deranged in how he fought, fashioning weapons by tearing off limbs from the monsters before beating them back to death with them.


    There he was, swinging a leg around his head, even pulling the head off of one and using it as a projectile all while William was fighting in close quarters, fists flying, picking one up from behind and slamming it headfirst onto the ground, the neck breaking and head almost dislodging while it moaned its last pained hisses. She became entranced by watching them fight and didn''t notice the one that took a swipe at her. Her assailant looked like an older woman who had aged poorly as the walking dead with her jaw hanging on by a few tendons. She tumbled down onto her back while the old hag approached her, hands reaching out towards Vera, only for her instincts to kick in. The trigger pulled in a blur. The first time hit her in the shoulder, the second in the chest, third time in the head, which sent the body toppling over onto her. She screamed in horror, the body heavy and oppressive, making it difficult for her to breathe, only to realize that it wasn''t moving anymore. Vera heaved the body off of her before picking herself back up on shaky legs.


    This was the fight of her life, for her life, and all the while the two brothers were joking and laughing while they tore through the walking dead, the entire scene awash in the surreal. The battle lasted a little longer until a group of guards rushed out in heavy armor with assault rifles poised and aimed at the three survivors. At that moment, Vera imagined it all being over, that they were just going to mow them down, but instead they were invited in. From that day forth, she stuck by William, even when Branch had presented him with a new girl, Jenna.


    Jenna''s existence was more of a relief than it was an insult. While Vera enjoyed sacking up with William from time to time, they didn''t have what you would call a romantic relationship. They just fucked out of animalistic instinct now and then and had conversations about what their lives were like before the world fell apart. Jenna served as more of his girlfriend. Vera just his fuckbuddy that he kept around for the intellectual stimulation and to help tether each other to reality. Jenna came to them pretty shaken up when she had first moved in, but Will was always a gentleman to both of them and the relationship between Jenna and Will happened organically enough, while Vera and Will were just what they were. She assumed that William had the same fear she did, that if he was "done" with her that Branch would be done with her as well and there would be no room for her in their new, burgeoning society.


    William was off getting prepared for the arena, which left Vera with Jenna. Both of them were linked to William, but she didn''t consider Jenna to be a good friend. She was a roommate that she had to deal with. Vera pulled her clothes on while Jenna was still asleep and slipped out of the apartment into the dimmed, quiet hallway. There was a buzz throughout the hallway that there always was on arena nights, everyone getting ready for the arena later that evening and wearing their best. At Branch Tower, the arena was the social event that couldn''t be missed; everyone who was anyone in Branch''s new society came out for every fight dressed in their most elegant of wear suitable for their social stature. The arena served as a culling of the weak and helped to deliver on the bloodlust that became a part of their collective consciousness. A disease to some, affliction to others, and curiosity to those with some strands of their humanity left intact.


    "I can''t believe it," she overheard a woman saying to another.


    "He''s really here," the other one confirmed.


    "Have you seen him?"


    "No, not yet, but he''ll be at the arena tonight, I heard."


    "Hi," Vera butted in, curious about who they were talking about. "Who will be there?"


    "Oh, you haven''t heard?" The one woman who appeared to be in her early 40s, hair teased and makeup caked onto her face. "TK Gabriel is here."


    "TK Gabriel?" She asked, puzzled.


    "The movie star," the woman scoffed.


    "Movie star?"


    "Yeah, he was in like, god, a ton of great movies and he''s here. I heard Branch wants to put him in some sort of position of power."


    "Oh, thanks," she smiled and walked away towards the fountain in the common area where she liked to stay while William was away doing whatever he did. The name did sound familiar to her, like something from a past life. The very idea of watching movies seemed so distant and perverse. Yes, there was electricity within Branch Towers and even televisions, but their in-house library was rather limited, which made it not worth watching, plus, within the context of their existence, watching films about people murdering each other for entertainment seemed illogical. She preferred the more introspective kinds of movies, which Branch''s library seemed to lack.


    There was a sinking feeling in her gut about the buzz surrounding this new arrival and William''s demeanor over the past day. There hadn''t been a new arrival that was treated with as much of a buzz that she could remember ever, at least in the amount of time that she had been there. Her sneaking intuition told her that William''s retirement would be delayed yet again and those morbid thoughts of him meeting his fate inside of the arena sooner, rather than later, were hard to push out of her mind. No, she didn''t particularly love him in any sort of romantic way, but he had become an important part of her life and the thought of him dying on the sands of the arena went from persisting to prevalent.

 7. The Doctor

    A knock at the door broke Dr. Faraday from her trance-like sleep, springing her back to life in a cold sweat, little Elsie in her arms still curled up next to her. The knock hadn''t disturbed the sleeping child. She only moaned and rolled over. A red silk robe was on a hanger by the bathroom, Dr. Faraday draping it over her shoulders before she went to the door, still favoring her bandaged right arm. Living with air conditioning again after two years without power felt obscene, considering how she knew people were living outside of the building, but it was hard not to appreciate it. She glimpsed herself in the gigantic mirror that hung over a dresser, only to see a haggard, aged woman with dead eyes looking back at her. Had it been that long, that stressful? Wasn''t this all some horrific dream?


    Another knock, Dr. Faraday shuffling towards the door, looking through the fish-eyed hole in the door. A man in a sharp tuxedo with neatly gelled hair and a thin mustache stood with a tray in his hand. She turned the deadbolt and opened the door, feeling the whoosh from the hallway, causing her to collect up the robe that she found her gaunt body swimming in.


    "Yes?"


    "Dr. Faraday," the man gave her a brief nod before striding past her and into the room, laying down the tray on the dresser, pulling off the large domed cover to reveal a bottle of sparkling water, two glasses and two plates heaping with food. "Roasted chicken, baked potatoes and roasted carrots, for two, of course."


    "Are you kidding me?" Her eyes grew large at the sight of not only fresh food, but eloquently prepared food. Russell, who served as the caravan''s chef, was a line cook at a Denny''s prior and did his best with what they had, but it was never anywhere near the ostentatious presentation in front of her. The aroma of the chicken alone filled up the room and left her feeling intoxicated.


    "Compliments of Mr. Branch," the man explained, "this is one of his favorite dishes."


    "Does everyone here eat like this?"


    "Mostly, although some on the lower floors dine in the cafeteria," his tone visibly dismissive when speaking about the cafeteria.


    "This is too much. You must tell Mr. Branch how much I appreciate this, mister, um?"If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Clyde," he said.


    "Yes, Clyde, please send him our sincerest thanks for the room, the clothes and now the food."


    "You can thank him yourself in the arena tonight."


    "Oh?"


    "I''m sure that you saw it on your way in," he said, standing rigid in the doorway. "That mass of a structure appended to this marvelous building, that is."


    "The big hodgepodge? I thought that was some sort of refugee camp of sorts."


    "One could say that."


    "So this is some sort of event?" She probed further, not happy with what he was withholding.


    "Yes, the premiere entertainment here at Branch Tower. You have a personal invitation from Mr. Branch, which I hope you understand the gravity of. That''s an honor that most will never be extended."


    "I''m sure it''ll be very interesting."


    "Uh huh," he seemed disgusted by her lack of enthusiasm, "I''ve done the honor of preparing outfits for both of you."


    He exited the room, then wheeled in a rack with two hangers on it, covered in black garment bags with two pairs of black heel shoes sitting on the base, most likely leather and recently polished. Clyde unzipped the bag when Dr. Faraday smiled at him and stopped him.


    "It''s been a while, but we remember how to dress ourselves. Thank you, Clyde."


    "Madame, this is my job and Mr. Branch..."


    "I''m sure that Mr. Branch appreciates your attention to detail, but the girl just lost her parents and I just saw the only people that I had left in the world mowed down by assault rifles and a horde of the undead. We need some time on our own for now. We''ll graciously accept Mr. Branch''s offer, but we could use some time to at least change on our own."


    "I... I understand," he said, "I''ll return in three hours to deliver you both to Mr. Branch''s private box."


    The door closed behind him with a subtle click, although it made Elsie jump. Somehow she had slept through his entire visit, but the sound of the door clicking pulled her from her slumber with a gasp. She sat up, covered in sweat, hyperventilating and thrashing in the sheets.


    "Where am I? Where am I? Mom? Mom!?"


    "Oh sweetie," Dr. Faraday cradled her in her good arm, being careful with her right, "sweetie it''s alright, Auntie Ruth is here."


    "Auntie Ruth?" She looked up at her, like a lost little lamb. "Where''s my mom? My sister?"


    "Oh sweetie, sweetie," she ran her fingers through the girl''s hair. "I''m here now, that''s what matters. We are safe inside of the Tower. Remember the Tower?"


    "I... Mom..." The girl fell silent, the memories returning to her right before Dr. Faraday''s eyes. Her heart broke again, like it had dozens of times since the fall, like she thought it couldn''t anymore. That''s one lesson that she has learned; that heartbreak doesn''t have its limitations. It wasn''t a singular event and it would and could repeat itself without end.


    "I''m sorry, Elsie, I''m so, so sorry."


    "Why?"


    "I don''t know, darling, I don''t know. I just am."

 8. The Doctor

    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    "Why do we have to go to this?" Elsie asked, wearing a perfectly sized black dress with her black heels. Dr. Faraday had helped to brush her hair back and did her best to make them both look presentable. She appreciated that there were sweaters for both of them, as she didn''t feel comfortable in the black-satin dress that they had picked out for her.


    "We just do, Elsie," she said, feeling unsure herself. The invitation itself would have felt benign if Branch''s men hadn''t slaughtered their entire caravan without remorse. Upsetting Branch seemed like a bad idea, considering their lives were in his hands right now, which was an even more terrifying thought than surviving out in the wasteland like they had. "Just stick by me and everything will be fine."


    "I''m scared."


    "I know, sweetie, I know."


    A knock came at the door. Elsie jumped, and Dr. Faraday took a deep breath. This would be Clyde again, she presumed, straightening out her sweater. She unbolted the door and swung it open, only to find Tom standing there, in a new set of leather clothing that looked every bit as new as the clothing that was left for Elsie and herself. "Oh, Tom," she said. "I didn''t expect you."


    "We''re going to this thing," he said, "but stay close."


    "Okay," she replied, noting his tone was somber and guarded. "Elsie, we should get going here."


    The girl gathered herself up, and like a magnet, attached herself to Dr. Faraday''s hip. Elsie was still shaken and in a daze, making her pull the poor girl in closer while they walked down the hallway behind Tom. He was never a man of many words, and when he spoke, he whispered. But no matter what, she trusted him. Knowing that he was going to whatever this arena was with them at least gave her some comfort. If it wasn''t for him out in front of the building, neither one of them would be alive. Then again, after all that they went through, with all that they lost, was alive the correct terminology anymore? There was no way to be sure.


    The great hallways of Branch Tower were lavish to the point of being gaudy. Branch''s taste was not for everyone, with the primary tenants of his palate being black, gold, yellow and the occasional dash of red. That meant that the hallways were darker than they needed to be, but gilded wherever gold could be applied. There was no denying that the red carpets were beautiful, but the deep maroon color reminded her of blood and her thoughts immediately went to the steady stream of blood that had dripped out of the bus while she lay there in the sand cradling Elsie while death surrounded them.


    A shiver ran through her entire body, Elsie feeling it and looking up at her, only for Dr. Faraday to squeeze her even tighter. They made their way to an elevator where Tom pressed the button and waited with his back against the wall and eyes studying both sides of the hallway. There were a few people lingering about the hall, all of them dressed up in exquisitely made clothing, like they were heading out for a night at the opera. Drinking had already begun, with champagne flutes and wine glasses in-hand, the laughter and chatter serving as the backdrop.


    "This all feels..." she started.


    "Wrong," Tom finished the sentence for her.


    "Yeah, wrong. After what we just saw, after what we''ve gone through? It''s like none of that touches these people. The world never ended, their lives just carried forth into a new setting."


    He merely grunted and nodded before the chime of the elevator rang. The golden doors parted and in there stood Clyde, still without an expression and standing as rigid as ever. "Ah yes, I was just coming to retrieve you all. Please, let me guide you the rest of the way."


    The butler narrated their journey through Branch Tower, describing the renovations that the building underwent after the fall, the floors that had morphed into supply operations, how the water was processed, and every other minor detail that was of no genuine interest to them. Tom seemed distracted and uneasy, but Dr. Faraday did her best to seem interested while keeping Elsie engaged and not letting her mind wander to her dead family. The girl simply kept quiet, and her face had a constant look of blank horror on it.


    Clyde made note of it a few times.


    The arena was detached from the main building, with access to it being from the parking structure that was built underneath the resort. Surprisingly enough, there were cars still there, most of them looking to still be in good condition. Clyde led them through the base floor of the parking structure, through the sea of people who were in line to enter the arena and off to the side, through a special, black-and-gold door that had the Branch seal on it. Through there was a red-carpet-lined hallway that led to an elevator.


    When they emerged from the darkness of the hallway and the elevator, the only way to describe the wave that hit them was overwhelming. The elevator spat them out into a narrow hallway that led to a set of steps and into a box that hung over the entire arena. Inside that arena was a sports stadium chock-full of humanity, containing more people than she had imagined even survived the apocalypse. Yet there they were, an immense mass of humanity, their murmurs almost deafening after the years of relative silence.


    "My god," she said under her breath.


    "Impressive, isn''t it?" Branch was leaning on the edge of the box, waving a gloved hand towards the crowd, not bothering to look back. Of course, he knew who was approaching. This was his world. "Behold my creation, my world, risen from the ashes of a sad, little world full of sad little people."


    They all stayed silent while he marveled at the world that was built in his image. Dr. Faraday did her best to hide her disbelief and disgust. Billions were dead, all because he couldn''t let his ego be bruised by a failure to create some superhuman serum and pushed beyond the point of good taste.


    "Ah, Dr. Faraday," he outstretched his hand towards her. "How good of you to accept my humble invitation, and you''ve brought... that girl with you as well."


    "This is Elsie," she gave the girl a squeeze, "say hi, Elsie."


    "No." Elsie turned and buried her head into Dr. Faraday''s sweater.


    "I''m sorry, she''s just shy is all, this is all rather overwhelming."


    "I understand, I understand. It''s all quite impressive. Even I''m impressed by what I''ve been able to build in just a few short years."


    "A regular Caesar," Tom muttered.


    "Oh Mr. Gabriel, I know you are still leery of this, but you, my friend, are the guest of honor here and my, do you look splendid. In fact, I hand-selected your clothing, ripped from the cinema, you might say."


    "I noticed."


    "So, Mr. Branch," Dr. Faraday interrupted, sensing Tom''s growing agitation and afraid of what might happen. There were two armed guards in the box along with them; a blonde man covered in scars and another, taller blonde man who was pacing back and forth. "What exactly... is this?"


    "The arena," he smiled gently. "We had it built on right after, well, you know. More and more people were coming to Branch Tower, what with it becoming a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak world. The best and the brightest were what we needed, but sadly, not everyone could live up to that potential. So, judge me not, we devised the arena. While I would love to take in everyone with open arms, there is not enough room for every wanderer or vagabond, especially with so many out there being so violent."


    "So you take people in and have them fight to the death?"


    "You make it sound so crass and simple, but essentially, yes. Oh, don''t make that face, Mr. Gabriel," he looked over at Tom, who was shaking his head. "I''m working on a plan to build additional housing out there for these strays, but until then, we don''t have the resources for them all. No offense, Dr. Faraday."


    "You are forcing people¡ªpeople that are alive¡ªsurvivors, to kill or be killed? I''m not trying to be ungracious here, but haven''t enough people died, Mr. Branch?"


    "I completely agree, but they come here. What am I to do? Turn them away? We give everyone a choice. Only the strongest remain. In fact, tonight I want you to see our champion. He''s a bit of a brute, but I believe that you''ll like him, all of you, but Mr. Gabriel in particular. There were no favorites here; he was given the same opportunity that I gave everyone else that wandered in from the wasteland, and my god did he take advantage of it. He''s a shining example of how this system works. You look skeptical, but you''ll see."


    "Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer boomed overhead. "Please welcome the Wizard of the Wastes, the Savior of the Damned, the Ayatollah of Rock ''n Rolla himself, Mr. Jordan Branch!"


    "Ahh yes, we are starting," Branch smiled, pumping both fists in the air, the crowd erupting with applause and cheers. There was no way to decide how many people were there, but it sounded like there was an enormous mass of humanity in attendance, cheering on Branch. Branch looked back at them, motioning towards Tom. "C''mon." Tom took a deep breath and walked towards the edge of the box overlooking the crowd. The whole thing was garish and unthinkable. More people than she had imagined even survived the apocalypse were out there and they were cheering for the blood of other survivors to be spilled on that sand pit floor.


    "Thank you, thank you," Branch stood before a varnished maple podium with a microphone, motioning with his hands for everyone to quiet down. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of my new world, to the arena!" Another cheer broke loose, only for Branch to settle them down again. "Tonight you will be in for some of the greatest action that the world has ever seen. Acts of bravery, heroism, depravity and old-fashioned violence. Tonight, though, tonight is a special night. You see, standing here with me is a very special guest. Standing here with me is hope. Standing here with me is a survivor, the strongest of the strong. Not only that, but standing here is someone that you might remember. Ladies and gentlemen, Jordan Branch is very proud to present none other than Mr. TK Gabriel!"


    The crowd erupted, the rumbling of the arena coursing through his veins, his chest pounding from the roar. Tom outstretched his hand, an image of him mirroring him from the other side of the arena, Dr. Faraday seeing herself standing there behind both men, Elsie tucked under her arms and once again could not correlate the connection between her and the image of her the survivor. Branch was beaming, applauding, while he motioned for Tom to take the podium. "Make it brief," he yelled into TK''s ear as he approached the microphone. Tom was hesitant at first, glaring sideways at the podium and the microphone before taking a deep breath. In her brief time knowing him he was never one for words, outside of that one night when he told her the story of his him and his wife''s escape from their home, the night that she died and he claimed that he also died, reborn as a shell of a man.


    "So," he leaned against the podium. "I... I don''t know. It really is hell out there..." he said, reflecting on life out in the wasteland, the cheers and applause awkwardly tapering off. Branch tapped him on the shoulder, a sign of impatience. Dr. Faraday was cringing. Tom had mentioned Branch to her briefly, none of it that he mentioned seemed complimentary. In fact, she was shocked that he had even been heading there. He wasn''t heading to the Tower for refuge, but something else burned in his eyes. "I can''t do this."


    Branch''s expression was hard to crack; part amused, part angry, and part suspicious of the man. "Thank you very much, Mr. Gabriel. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. TK Gabriel! Now, on with the violence!" That was all that it took to get the crowd riled up again.


    Humanity under the rule of Jordan Branch had been transported back in time to an amalgamation of the Roman empire and the worst nightmare of the apocalypse coming to life, such as watching the living batter the living over a space in the tower in their new high society. The not-so-dearly departed were trotted out as a sideshow attraction, subhuman fodder for a violent spectacle. She wondered how many of these people watching had actually been forcedw to survive out in the unforgiving wasteland for long, or if these were only the privileged who hadn''t been subjected to all the horrors. Maybe she was just jaded, and humanity had simply defaulted to this level of madness when trying to comprehend their devolving existence. When there weren''t smartphone screens to get lost in daily and social networks to share every bit of minutiae, humanity simply craved entertainment in a social setting.


    They called two survivors out to the arena, both decked out in what looked like crude leather armor, each with their equally haphazard weapons of choice. A tall, lean-looking man stood barefoot with a two-by-four wrapped in barbed wire while a smaller, more muscular man had a baseball bat with a few railroad spikes driven through it, fashioned it into a cudgel. Branch hungrily licked at his lips while he turned to Tom, looking like a kid on Christmas morning, unable to contain himself. "Oh, this should be a good one," he said.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Tom stood transfixed, unmoving outside of a balled up fist.


    "Look at this, there is going to be blood for sure, not like that last one."


    "Is there ever mercy in the arena?" Dr. Faraday asked, watching as both men circled around each other, taking tentative swings that missed by at least a few feet.


    "Mercy? Why, at times, if both men put up a fight, I suppose."


    "Why are they fighting? Are they criminals or something? Did they break the rules?"


    "Their crime, good doctor, was surviving."


    That stung her harder than he imagined it would. Both men had survived out in the violent wasteland, a place that Branch knew nothing about, and this is how they were greeted when they reached their desert oasis; death. They continued to circle around each other, their tentative blows growing no closer to the mark while the crowd was growing increasingly hostile.


    "This is no good," Branch slapped his hand down on his makeshift throne and sprang to his feet. "I''m sorry that you have to see such a poor showing."


    "I''d rather..." She was doing her best to shield Elsie from the impending violence and felt relieved that no one was being slaughtered.


    "Nonsense, and please uncover her eyes. She needs to understand that the world¡ªmy world¡ªcan be a brutal place," Branch turned to his podium, clearing his throat. "If you don''t wish to fight in the arena, we''ll make you fight. You all know what that means!"


    A dull chant broke out, it growing louder and louder while Branch cackled. "Crusher! Crusher! Crusher!" the crowd chanted.


    "Bring out the Crusher!"


    The large metal gate affixed crudely to the arena wall creaked open, the sound of metal on metal filling up the arena in a cacophony with the chants and screams. A figure emerged from the shadows, hulking, disfigured and barely recognizable as a man, but it was a man. Branch was wearing a sick, proud smile while the crowd went crazy. The two men in the arena standing, mouths agape while the beast plodded out into the arena, letting out a mighty roar that sent shivers down her spine.


    "What in the...?"


    "That, my friends," Branch settled back down into his chair, rubbing his hands together. "Is my latest creation. That is the Crusher."


    Another mighty roar shook the arena, both men at a loss for what to do with themselves. The lanky one with the 2-by-4 charged, swinging wildly at the Crusher like his life depended on him and his lucky shot. The crude weapon made contact with the Crusher''s left arm, the barbs burying themselves into his flesh, a gasp washing over the crowd. A roar emenated from deep within the beast while the crowd "Ooh''d" over the contact. He did his best to break the weapon free, but the Crusher simply swatted him down with his massive left hand that looked to be about the size of the man''s torso. The lanky man lay motionless on the ground while Crusher began charging at the other one.


    The man, far from nimble on his feet, stumbled back, tripping and falling onto his ass with the cudgel still in his grip. Crusher closed the distance with a few mighty strides, descending upon the man like a hungry wolf on its prey. Overcome with desperation, the man swung the cudgel, but the mighty beast grabbed it with his hand like a child''s toy, yanking it up into the air and bringing the man with it. The muscular man let out a cry before Crusher slammed him to the ground, grabbing him by the neck and draping his body over his shoulders. Crusher chants overtook the crowd, who let out another mighty roar before driving him down headfirst into the ground. The lanky combatant was up and had jumped onto the Crusher''s back, Crusher reaching behind him and grabbing a hold of him by the head, holding his body up high while he tried to struggle free before bringing the screaming man''s head into his giant maw and crunching down, the body twitching a few times before going limp in his giant hand.


    Dr. Faraday let out a groan and pulled Elsie in tighter, diverting her eyes away from the horrific scene, but the sounds were inescapable and bone-chilling.. The amplified sound of that beast feasting on their freshly dead bodies filled the air, accentuated by the foul stench of death. The scene was one that she''d never be able to shake, even after all that she had been through. Branch had somehow made a monster worse than any of the rest of his creations throughout his sordid history, and this one was seemingly for his own perverted sense of entertainment. She snuck a peek back down at the arena only to see what remained of their mangled corpses; the Crusher covered in blood and guts while the crowd chanted his name. Tom wore a morose expression, fist still tightly clenched.


    "Quite the scene, isn''t it?" Branch commented. "Come now, you''ve surely seen worse out in the wasteland, haven''t you?"


    "I''ve seen some horrible things," TK said, "but nothing this wrong."


    "There is a new world now, Mr. Gabriel," Branch said snidely. "We have to adjust to it eventually, all of us. There is no more Hollywood to entertain the masses, the arena is all that we have."


    "I''m not so sure that our primary concern should be entertainment right now," Dr. Faraday said. "Survival seems to be the key."


    "You try running a new society with no form of entertainment. Rape, murder, looting. It all happened because they were bored. Now they have something to look forward to."


    "Now you just entertain them with it, instead of worrying about it happening to them?"


    "So be it. It isn''t like either of those men were of any value to our new society."


    "What about that monster of yours?"


    "Demoreo was in terrible shape. You see, there was no way that he''d survive without injecting him with the virus. Did I take some liberties with which strain that I injected him with? Of course I did, but he''s not dead. Oh no, he''s quite alive."


    "He''s a monster."


    "There were some unintentional side effects, I''ll give you that, but he has found new life in the arena."


    "Feasting on the flesh of other men for this crowd''s approval?"


    "We all play our part, Dr. Faraday," she noted that his tone was growing weary. "I''m sorry that you don''t seem to approve of my society here, but I thought that Crusher here would excite you."


    "Excite me?"


    "Why yes, aren''t you curious why I invited you up here? Mr. Gabriel, well, he makes sense, but you? A lowly pediatrician, correct? We don''t exactly have access to an array of medical professionals here, and I would love your assistance."


    "My assistance? Why?"


    "We''ve had a few, well, unfortunate accidents with a few of our medical staff and haven''t had the chance to replace them. So?"


    She paused, surveying the gore and the fervor of the crowd, disgusted and fighting her instincts to take Elsie and to run as far as she could from there. "Sorry, it''s just a lot to take in is all."


    "Don''t think too long," he said, "need I remind you that everyone at Branch Tower has a role. Those who can''t fulfill their roles are of no use to us... Outside of entertainment."


    "Oh," her skin crawled. She couldn''t take any chances as to what he was alluding to. It was all very clear. "I have no problems earning my keep, Mr. Branch."


    "Splendid. Now, as for my friend TK. Tonight was for you, you know that, right? You are the guest of honor. You should say something to them. What will they think if you don''t approve?"


    "I don''t know," Tom picked himself up and headed towards the stairs. "I don''t care, either. C''mon, Doc, let''s get out of here."


    "Oh come now," she felt Branch''s hand reach out and grasp onto her arm. "The main event hasn''t even started yet. Look, they are just assembling the ring right now."


    "Ring?" Tom turned back, looking down on the crew, erecting what looked like a professional boxing or wrestling ring in the center of the arena.


    "Ah yes, you see, our champion has a flair for the dramatic," Branch explained. "A man after my own heart, you could say. He puts on a show for the people."


    "Tom," she looked up at him. "Surely we can stay for one more?" Her eyes were pleading with him. She thought she had known fear out in the wasteland, but there was still a sense of sanity, of purpose. This was insane on every level. Upsetting this madman was not a good idea.


    "You see, the lady approves."


    "Oh," Tom said, quieting down again while the crew finished assembling the ring. Music piped through the loudspeakers and the crowd began to clap, rumble, and stomp their feet. Puffs of smoke arose from the door directly across from their luxury box, the cheers growing louder and louder before a man emerged, not much to look at, just a bit of a bigger guy, almost chubby, wearing a pair of jeans, a soccer jersey that she couldn''t discern the team on and a scruffy beard with equally scruffy long hair. On his left hand he wore a red glove, his right had what looked like a mechanical gauntlet, parts of it running into the sleeve of his shirt.


    The champion was carrying a large, golden belt over his shoulder, hefting it up high over his head with his left hand, much to the delight of the crowd. She glanced over at Branch, who wore a smirk and applauded while the man entered the newly constructed ring in the middle of the arena. After what they had all just witnessed, this almost felt surreal. The whole thing was ludicrous. He might as well of been zapped directly from the 1980s with the professional wrestling pageantry. None of it made any sense knowing all the death and destruction that existed beyond those walls. Everyone was doing their best to forget that the real world was still out there and that it lay in ruins while they celebrated the continuation of the cycle of destruction.


    "That''s my brother." The taller guard nudged Dr. Faraday. "He gonna tear that bugger apart, just you watch."


    "Oh," she said, "you must be very proud."


    "Fuckin'' A."


    "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Champion of the arena, The Fist of the Northern Isles, William Farrington!" The announcer beamed over the loudspeakers, barely cutting through the crowd noise. One thing was for certain, they truly did love this guy, whoever he was. He pumped the gauntleted fist into the air and they all roared louder, a wave of stomps reverberating throughout. "Brrrrrring out the dead!"


    A few of the undead bastardizations of Branch''s creation stumbled out from the main tunnel, shuffling and moving towards the ring while Farrington laid his championship belt in the corner. There was time, and he wasn''t lacking in confidence, so he continued to warm up, stretching his arm out while they lumbered towards his ring. They began clawing their way into the ring, without order, just looking to attack him. He was more than ready. Stomping on the neck of the first one and stopping it cold in its tracks, the body slunk down over the side of the ring into a heap, sending another one stumbling back. One had finally clawed its way past the ring ropes that seemed to be difficult for these shambling miscreants to understand, only for Farrington to wave his hand towards the crowd who rallied behind him more.


    He threw a few punches with his left hand, staggering it back into the corner before pumping his fist into the air, the crowd almost on cue shouting, "Take his bloody head off!" along with him. The monster slipped towards him, Farrington holding his right fist towards his side before it came into range, him unleashing a right hook unlike she could ever have imagined. His fist came over in an arc, the gauntlet glowing yellow while it came into contact with the monster, his head instantly bursting like a melon, sending blood and brains all over the gray and already-stained ring. The crowd ate it up, waiting for another to make its way into the ring. Two were in there and Farrington had to think fast, ducking under one while quickly unleashing another right hand on this one''s head, it bursting like an over ripened tomato upon impact. He spun on his heel, his fist whistling through the air and landing with a splat, sending a third headless body to the canvas.


    "Fucking hell," Tom muttered.


    "Quite a scene, isn''t it?"


    "Does he ever fight, you know, something that can hit him back?"


    "Of course, of course," Branch said. "That was just the warmup."


    Farrington lifted the belt high above his head, climbing up the ropes and soaking in the adulation from the crowd. They were loving every second of it. Next, emerging from the same doorway that he came through, a lightly armored man was shoved through, stumbling over his own two feet and barely staying up. In his hand was a wrench and by the looks of it, he was scared out of his mind. Farrington goaded him to get into the ring with him, but it looked like this shaking mess of a man had no other choice. Farrington laid the title belt out on the mat in between them while a few of Branch''s armed guards pulled the unmoving, decapitated bodies out to clear the area.


    The nervous man with the wrench rolled into the ring, picking himself up and staring down Farrington, who remained calm as ever. Farrington was weaponless in comparison, but that gauntlet on his hand was most likely all the weapons that he''d ever need. That wrench in that man''s hands was most likely not going to help much. Farrington continued to goad the man to attack, the man finally jumping forward, slashing wildly with the oversized spanner while Farrington deftly ducked out of the way. He swung again, this time towards Farrington''s face, Farrington parrying it expertly with the gauntleted right fist, the sound of metal-on-metal clanging loudly, the wrench flying from the man''s hand. A knee to the stomach connected, and the man doubled over, Farrington bringing his left elbow down onto the spine of the man who crumpled to the mat in a heap, face down in the gore still in the ring.


    "C''mon," Tom muttered. "This is an execution."


    "Such are the rules of the arena, my friend. Farrington had this same opportunity."


    She grit her teeth while Farrington signaled he was going to slam the man down. He reached down, securing both of his hands around the man''s waist, tucking his head between his legs before hefting him up onto his shoulders and sending him crashing down to the mat right on his already injured spine. The man cried out in pain, writhing on the mat, crying for mercy. The microphones surrounding the ring picked up his cries, and they sent a shiver down TK''s spine. "For heaven''s sake," she said. "He''s crying for mercy."


    "This is the arena, Dr. Faraday. The rules are the rules. This man has no hope outside of the arena. All that is left for him now is to die."


    "Haven''t enough people died for no reason?"


    "If you want, I can stop this," he said. "But, be warned, Mr. Farrington will not take this offense lightly."


    "Stop this," Tom interjected. "Now."


    "Fine," he sighed, walking over to the podium. Farrington was standing over the man, fist pumped into the air. "Will, Will," he called over the loudspeaker. "Mr. Farrington."


    Farrington froze, looking up towards the box that they were in high above the rest, although still unable to escape the stench and the madness.


    "What?" He called it, echoing over the now-hushed arena.


    "It appears that Mr. Gabriel and his friends here find this to be a bit... barbaric."


    The crowd started booing, one guard bringing a microphone over to Farrington, who snatched it away from him and stomped around the ring. "You telling me some sissy-mouthed Hollywood type ain''t okay with this? He ain''t okay with me making my living, for making these people happy?"


    "He seems upset by it," Branch replied, turning towards Tom.


    "This is my ring," Farrington spat. "This is my arena, and these are your rules. If he has a problem with them, he can come down here like a man." Farrington tossed his belt down in the center of the ring, dragging it out like it was on display. The fans all cheering for him while she found herself frozen in disbelief. They had all truly lost their minds. Farrington picked up the man by the nape of his neck, holding him in position while he could barely even keep himself standing, never mind fight back. Farrington reared back his fist, looking right up at Tom, who stood leaning up against the front of the private box staring down at him, shaking his head, mouthing "don''t do this" under his breath while Farrington''s fist arced over, lighting up and contacting the man''s skull, his cries quickly disappearing while his head burst into pieces, the body falling limp onto the already stained canvas and the crowd going wild.


    Branch turned to Tom and smiled, shaking his head. They had all lost their goddamned minds.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>

 9. The Cannibal

    Black. Dark. Bathed in the blood of many, yet the hunger refuses to subside. Bars. Metal. They clang loudly, the echo permeating the very essence of his being. Rage. Nothing but a dark, muddled rage roaring its bloody vengeance to keep the memories at bay. Once there was a fight, now distant echoes of what once felt like something remain. No more.


    Rage.


    A red-coated world had lost its wonder, lost its innocence and the urgency of anything beyond the hunger. Beyond the desire to destroy. The muffled cries reverberated in his mind, a sly smile forcing cracks in his dried lips. They all fell. One-by-one, in groups, old, young, innocent or guilty, each one fell like the rest. Each one tasted like the last.


    Remember.


    Pulsating in the deepest corners of his mind, a voice crying out to remember. Remember what? The rage. How the bones crunched, the blood sprayed, and the innards spilled to the ground. Along the walls there was nothing but a bright red smear of viscera in the shape of his claws, scratched across the walls, smudging the incandescent reminder of anything before the rage.


    The cold spray attempted to cleanse him of his rampage, only further boiling his blood and stirring him to action. The metal bars clanged once again, this time violently, each one standing strong in light of his fists, but bending, slowly, gradually, bending to the force of nature behind his rage.


    Remember.


    Demoreo.


    The name, burning like a hot iron, penetrating into his very being, forcing him to recoil into the corner. Demoreo. Remember. No. No. It burned. Each word seared and sizzled in the back of his mind. The red world turned to a deep haze while the cold spray beat down on his tired, festering carcass. Life or death was no longer mutually exclusive. They resided together and were at war inside of his mind. No. There was nothing left. The maze only led to scratches on the walls that were indiscernible. Maybe in the past they meant something, but the words were foreign. They were just rage.


    Finally, the darkness took hold.


    * * *


    "Oh Crusher," Branch was squatting down in front of the cell while the Crusher''s heavy eyelids struggled to open. "Everything is so close, I can just feel it. Can you feel it, my friend?"


    "Grrraaah," he managed to form from a guttural memory of communication, the man before him familiar, but the fog not allowing him to press further. The animosity inside of him was swelling like a deep, festering wound that was ripped open anew. Demoreo. The fire burned inside of his head. Jordan Branch did this to you. He bolted up to his feet in a rage, slamming his body against the cell door, sending Branch tumbling onto his ass. "Grah!"


    "Still a lively one," Branch sighed. "I fear that it''s too late into his development to try anything else."


    "I suppose so," a darker-skinned man in a white lab coat stared down at a readout in front of him on a chain of paper that extended all the way to the ground. "He was a fine experiment, Mr. Branch, he''s just, well, he''s not really responding to the treatments. He still flies into these fits of rage all the time and attacks our staff. We need to sedate him to get anywhere with him and that just doesn''t work outside of tossing him into the arena."


    "Oh what glory you''ve brought to that arena, though, my fine friend," Branch turned back towards the cell, Crusher still in a rage. "We do need more out of him. Imagine if he was under my command and actually heeded my orders instead of being uncorked like this."


    "We''ve exhausted every other means for mind control that we''ve had success for in the past, sir."


    "I understand that, but Demoreo here is different, you do get that, don''t you?"


    "We do..."


    "Then why aren''t you trying everything?"


    "We''ve tried everything, sir, the only options left on the table are a bit more, well...."


    "What?"Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "They are invasive. We aren''t sure that he''ll survive the procedure, plus, he''s so large and his biology has completely changed since the--"


    "What part of ''everything'' don''t you understand? Demoreo here has been through so much, what is a little bit more?"


    "I mean, we could," the man''s face turned as white as a newly laundered sheet. "I''m just not sure that he''ll survive it, and we know how important he is to you."


    "He''s served his purpose thus far, I suppose," Branch traced his fingers along the bars on the door. "But the intended purpose was to be able to control him. Right now, in this shape, there isn''t much that we can do with him. He won''t respond to orders, he only responds to stimulus or hunger. I haven''t heard him mumble a coherent sentence in quite a while, even. He just grunts."


    "There could be side effects, though."


    "What part of this don''t you understand? I know that, but that is a risk that we are willing to take."


    "No, sir, I mean, there is still some of his personality there. Some of it is latent, some of it isn''t. We do routine scans of his mind and even of late we are detecting regular human thought patterns. If we implant this device into his mind, there is no telling what will happen."


    "He was a dead man when he first came to us and we gave him new life. If he dies like this, then at least he had that bit more of life."


    "But he had a family, a wife, a daughter, a son and..."


    "We''ve compensated them. They live among us now. In fact, they live like the elite. They would''ve been fodder for the arena under any other circumstance. She''s unskilled, of no real use to us."


    "She is fertile," the doctor said, Crusher feeling a new surge of rage build up in him, once again slamming himself against the door, ignoring the jolts of pain each time that he made contact.


    "There there, friend," Branch chided. "This life was never meant to be perfect, now was it? But we can rebuild, much like we are doing now. Peterson, when can we begin the procedure?"


    "Today, if you want. I do advise that we proceed with caution, though, as he was in the arena last night and tends to be a bit more, well.... Prone to bouts of rage."


    "Just ensure that he''s sedated."


    Branch trotted off, out of view without a care in the world while a group of guards approached and fired round after round of darts into his body. Each one stung more than the last. Crusher fought it at first, plucking them from his body, trying to remind himself that he was a man, that he was Demoreo, but they acted quickly, making his whole body heavier, his head foggy. As hard as he fought, it was futile, and the fight was slowly draining from him along with his consciousness. Demoreo, he repeated to himself, before it all went blank.


    * * *


    Consciousness returned, the haze still heavily occupying his thoughts and obscuring anything tangible from forming inside of his mind. A blank canvas to the world around him, Crusher sat up, no longer consumed by rage. Men in lab coats stood tentatively nearby, armed guards pointing their guns at him. He sat quietly, the hulking mass on a giant slab of a table, waiting.


    "Oookay," Peterson said. "He''s awake, and he''s not smashing or eating everything."


    "That''s good, isn''t it?" The other replied.


    "I think so, but we don''t know yet, we can''t let Mr. Branch know yet, he''ll get too excited and--"


    "And what? Do something rash?" Branch strode into the room wearing a smile on his face. He stood right in front of Crusher and inspected him from head-to-toe. "My, my, Crusher, aren''t we in control today?"


    Crusher simply sat, staring at Branch, a haphazard crown of metal protruding from his skull, the gauze still tightly wrapped around the base and stained a deep crimson.


    "Crusher, stand up, please," Branch ordered. Crusher groaned, still feeling the effects of all the sedatives, but pulled himself up to his feet, off of the table. His bare feet slapped against the cold concrete floor, him looking down at a smirking Branch. A dull, thudding pain pulsated throughout his head, a constant zap that wasn''t overpowering, but noticeable. "What would there ever be concern about?"


    "Well, sir, we haven''t conducted the proper tests yet and--"


    "I designed this myself, though," Branch walked around Crusher, marveling at him. "This was my invention, was it not?"


    "Yes, sir, but¡ª"


    "There are no buts, Peterson. Crusher is under our control. He''s as docile as a newborn puppy and as obedient as an old dog now. This is precisely what we wanted from this experiment, in fact, I''m upset that we didn''t do this sooner."


    "There are still possible side effects, he is still highly dangerous," Peterson pulled his glasses off and rubbed his temples.


    "Oh, I don''t fear my Crusher, I don''t fear him at all," Branch ran his fingers over Crusher''s back. "In fact, Crusher."


    "Urgh?"


    "Crusher, take Peterson over here''s head off."


    "No, what?" Peterson looked up at him in horror, dropping his clipboard to the ground with a clatter. "No, sir, wait, I was just..."


    "Crusher!"


    "Rrraaaagh!" Crusher let out a mighty roar. The doctor tried to run, but the guards all turned their guns on him. He scrambled for the bench, grabbing for anything to protect himself, but it was too late. Crusher''s hand was wrapped around his neck, a tight grip turning his head into a dark crimson shade.


    "This is working just splendid, I think," Branch said. "Now give me his head!"


    Crusher tightened his grip, Peterson''s flesh turning a deep shade of purple, trying to escape only for Crusher to reach down with his other hand, grip firmly onto his skull and twist. There was a sickening crack with a whimper, the head coming loose and blood spraying all over. He had died before his clipboard had settled into the ground, all of it happening in a matter of seconds. Crusher turned to Branch, who was laughing maniacally with blood dotting his suit. Crusher held the head out towards Branch, who smiled and nodded approvingly.


    "Oh my sweet boy," he whispered. "What have we done?"

 10. The Brawler

    The post-arena cooldown was always the most surreal for Will. Being in front of that crowd¡ªwhat could be the last real society left in the world¡ªand being their hero was a feeling that was beyond description for Will. He was a god inside of that arena. They all ate out of the palm of his hand each and every second that he existed inside of that fighting pit. They were rapt with attention the entire time, with all of their adoring eyes on him. Tonight was no different than any other night, really. The only difference was that Branch had trotted out that hotshot Hollywood star as a special guest and gave Will the chance to tear him down a few notches in front of everyone. He couldn''t help but feel the sting of losing out on his retirement because of some sort of showcase to some rich fella, but Branch owed him. He''d be good for it. He hoped.


    He sat in Branch''s private lounge on the top floor, relaxing on a lounge chair out by the pool that overlooked the wasteland, a contrast if there ever was one. Back when there were other buildings around and the general insanity that was Las Vegas still existed, he imagined that it was quite a view. Now, instead, it was simply looking out on the vast nothingness that existed beyond those walls. There really wasn''t much left for him out there, which hit him every time that he was up there at the top of the world in Branch''s personal oasis. Jenna and Vera sat on each side of him, a standard part of his post-fight festivities, while Branch approached him wearing a pair of board shorts and mirrored sunglasses, even though it was night.


    "What a show out there, my old friend," Branch beamed.


    "Thanks, innit? I thought we really showed up that Gabriel fella," he replied.


    "Yes, well," Branch scratched his chin, "ladies, would you mind giving us some space?"


    "C''mon Jenna," Vera picked herself up, tossing Jenna a towel to cover herself up with. Jenna was in a two piece, her golden body a more subtle hue of blue in the dim moonlight while Vera was just in her usual clothes, looking as uncomfortable up there as she always was. "Let''s go get something to eat."


    "Alright," Jenna leaned over Will and planted a kiss on his cheek, his eyes stuck on her tits that were looking to burst out of her top. "We''ll be over there if you need us, champ."


    "Aight," Will said, slapping Jenna''s ass while she walked off, her letting out a playful squeal.


    "I do love to watch them leave," Branch commented.


    "What? Oh, yeah, they are quite something."


    "Just like your performance was out there tonight. Actually, I''d go as far as to say it was masterful."


    "Masterful, eh?" William took another swig of his beer, the bottle sweating in his hands. "I guess it was, huh?"


    "Truly."


    "What about that Gabriel fella? He looked mighty buggered."


    "Well, he was," Branch said. "He was quite upset by the whole thing, but you played your part quite well."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "That was what you wanted, I thought?"


    "Yes," he said. "I wanted to take him down a few pegs. There is a very fragile balance here within Branch Tower, and someone like Gabriel could easily upset the balance. You know the type; the liberal do-gooder that used to go on Larry King to talk about saving the children in Africa. The type always crusading for humanity while living as lavish of a life as the rest. People rally behind that, but there is no room for that in our new world, is there?"


    "From what I seen? No place at all. Things are fucked e''nuff as it is."


    "Right. I''ll freely admit that not everything here is fair. I mean, look, you and I are up here enjoying the pool, some drinks and food while there are people in this very tower who are going hungry down in the cellars. Those people are waiting for work, for us to build them housing, or waiting for their chance to ascend via a chance in the arena. If we were to share everything evenly, well, none of us would survive."


    "I guess not, no," he said. It made sense, sure, but there was still something nagging at him from the inside, usually in Vera''s voice warning him about Branch.


    "We are the exceptional. We are the few. We are the people that humanity needs to survive this unfortunate world that we live in. We can worry about everyone else later. You see that, don''t you?"


    "I s''pose so," William took another swig. "Just never thought of it that way, I s''pose."


    "Living like this doesn''t make us wrong, it simply makes us smarter than¡ª"


    "I wonder if this is how other madmen in history rationalized their insanity," a voice broke through. Will looked up and saw Gabriel, still in his gear from the arena that night.


    "Why Mr. Gabriel, how nice of you to join us," Branch offered him up a big smile. "We were just discussing politics here."


    He replied with a grunt.


    "So I''m assuming that you disagree?"


    "Uh huh," Gabriel replied.


    "Well fuck," William said. "Maybe we should all live in your prissy lil'' wonderworld, but this is reality, mate."


    A smile washed across Gabriel''s face, Will feeling his blood boiling. What kind of asshole gets brought in from the wasteland and disrespects the man in charge? Branch''s place was the only refuge from the outside world, and this guy was being treated like royalty. Even got his retirement delayed.


    "I don''t care how you justify this, humanity deserves better."


    "But you do care oh so much, don''t you, Mr. Gabriel?"


    "This is the fuckin'' apocalypse, mate," Will said.


    "But not humanity."


    "This is humanity," Branch said. "You don''t have to approve or disapprove of it. That isn''t for you."


    He kept silent, Will followed his eyes as he scanned the room, from beautiful woman to beautiful woman, to the booze, the food and the few men scattered about.


    "Think of it as a test. One to see where you fit in our society, of course," Branch said. "Although I''m not quite sure how that worked out."


    Gabriel just let out a laugh.


    "What do you think, Mr. Farrington?" Branch turned back towards Will.


    "Ain''t much of a fit, if I say so."


    "So what do we do about this, then? Do we continue letting Mr. Gabriel live among us, the few, the proud and the contributing? Or do we make him earn his living?"


    "You know," Will scratched at his beard, "if I still gotta earn my way, I don''t see why not."


    "Some oasis wonderland," Gabriel added.


    "Whatever you think is inconsequential," Branch said. "The benefit of running the only game in town is that I call the shots, Mr. Gabriel. I''ll... give you some time to think this over."


    "Fuck it," Gabriel stormed off, leaving William sitting next to Branch, who was casually sipping on his drink.


    "That went better than expected," he said.


    "Oh?"


    "We wanted this to happen, because we want him to have to prove himself in the arena."


    "Oh," Will said, feeling a bit more comfortable with the whole situation. Branch did have a plan. "Do you think that he can?"


    "Possibly," Branch said, the amusement plastered on his face. "It would be quite sporting if he could and it all led up to a meeting between the two of you, but if not then just as well."

 11. The Brawler

    "This seems wrong, Will," Vera sat across from Will in their apartment, gazing off towards the neon-lit fish tank and the few surviving fish that they had, the ones that Vera had remembered to feed, not the ones that Will had neglected. "This guy survives god knows what out there and is just going to be made an example of?"


    "That''s how it goes, ya know?"


    "I do know," she said. "Just like I know that I have no place here if it isn''t for you."


    "That''s bollocks and you know it," he said. "Where would I be without that sexy lil'' mind of yours?"


    "You wouldn''t have that gauntlet that you use, that''s for damned sure."


    "Right, so, you ain''t goin'' nowhere."


    "But you are going to have to kill him."


    "S''pose so," he said. "But it''s not like I don''t kill other people, innit?"


    "It''s not like every night after you do I''m any less annoying about it."


    "I guess that I just tune it out."


    "That or you just drink yourself stupid and fuck Jenna until you pass out."


    "An'' that, aye," he said, feeling morose.


    "What happens when you retire? Do you even get to retire, or do you die a martyr out there? Branch brought this guy in as a big deal, but now he''s willing to sacrifice him in just 24 hours? Doesn''t that seem off to you?"


    "Well, the bloke was pissin'' ''round."


    "So what?" She asked. "Haven''t you ever looked at your relationship with Branch and how he uses you? That whole display tonight was just so he could make a grand display of this guy and make a fool of him. Now he''s trying to get him to fight in the arena and get killed? If you ever asked a simple question, wouldn''t he just do the same to you?"


    "That won''t happen, darlin''."


    "And why not?"


    "Because I''m not ''bout to be buggerin'' around like that, you know that."


    "This was supposed to be your retirement night, right?"


    "Aye," he said. That one stung.


    "But it wasn''t, now there is just one more guy that they have to build up for you to tear down in front of those people."Stolen story; please report.


    "So?"


    "So, don''t you see the pattern? You were supposed to retire. Then some movie star waltzes in and Branch considers him a threat, so he wants you to keep going for a bit longer as his pet to make an example out of this guy. What happens when the next guy comes along?"


    "There won''t be a next ''un, darlin'', I promise," Will was speaking quietly now, starting to wonder himself what the line was.


    "You aren''t a bad man, Will," she said. "Or else I wouldn''t even be in here with you, having this conversation with you. You helped me out there when you could have just been like the rest. There is some humanity left in you yet. I know that. Look, I''m under no illusion that you owe me anything or that I mean anything to you, but you are better than this."


    "An'' if I''m not?" He asked, genuinely unsure of the answer.


    "Then you''ve let me down," she said.


    "Just bugger off then," he was starting to feel frustrated. "There''s a lot going on right now and I''m lookin'' out for all of us. Just bugger off, will you?"


    "Whatever," Vera gathered up a few things and stormed out of the room, slamming the door.


    "My champ," Jenna was awoken from her daze. "What was that?"


    "Oh nothing, snookums," he sighed, picking up a few of the bottles in front of him and swishing them around looking for another sip. "Just the usual bollocks from Vera."


    "You were amazing tonight, my champ," Jenna smiled to him. "Why aren''t you over here with me?"


    "Just thinking is all," he said. Climbing into bed with her was tempting, especially after such a long, strange day as this one, but he wasn''t sure that he wanted to clear his mind just yet. Things were going wrong and something felt off. He just couldn''t put his finger on it. "What a fuckin'' day."


    "Oh baby," she slid out of bed, slinking across the room towards him wearing nothing but a pair of black laced panties, her breasts two perfect, perky orbs on her sleek torso. "Let me make it all better."


    "Ah fuck," he said, feeling her hand slide down his chest, her breasts pressing against his back while her hand kept sliding down. "Jenna, look, I¡ª"


    "What?" She asked in an innocent tone, him stopping dead in his tracks when her hand plunged into his pants and wrapped around his cock. He felt himself growing in her tight grip, her hand starting to move up and down the length of it and his troubles melting away in her skilled hands. "See, that wasn''t so difficult, was it?"


    "No," he groaned, feeling her hand stroke up and down his engorged member. "It sure wasn''t."


    "Here," she moved towards the bed, holding onto his hand and leading him while she laid back down on the bed, legs agape while she pulled him in, wrapping them around him. His hands instinctively moved towards her breasts, her working her hands on his button, dropping his pants to the ground. "Mmm, see?" She was looking up at him, her lips moving in towards him. "Isn''t this much better?"


    Before he knew it he was inside of her mouth, her lips caressing him gently, her hand working its way up and down like a piston. The blood of those men, their cries, the call for mercy and the judgement of TK Gabriel was leaving his mind. Only the thought of her expert lips gliding along his cock remained. Vera wasn''t there, which bugged him. They were having a conversation before when he had just dismissed her. She wasn''t as hot as Jenna by any stretch, but that girl''s mind did things to him.


    None of it mattered when Jenna peeled off her panties and he was deep inside of her, thrusting and grunting away the pain of knowing that he might be disposable to Jordan Branch, knowing that things didn''t feel right. How could things feel any differently while he was deep inside of this bombshell? She was there because of Branch, there because of his victories in the arena. That''s who he was now; he was the man that ruled over the arena, the man who got the girl.

 12. The Engineer

    Vera couldn''t help but fume while she stomped through the gilded hallways and the luxury suites at Branch Tower. She knew if she went back to their suite, that Jenna and him would be fucking, that he''d be drinking away the guilt like he always did and that she''d storm away in disgust, as always. How that become her lot in life was beyond her, but she was supposed to be thankful for even being alive. Branch hadn''t invented mind control¡ªyet¡ªbut the "gift" of that girl and the unlimited booze was the easiest way to keep that brute from thinking for himself. She didn''t hate Jenna, nor was she jealous of her, really, but she always felt like another way that Branch could control his "champion" into not questioning his own frail existence under the iron fist of Jordan Branch and his arena.


    Will''s luck would run out, no matter what she tried to do for him, and that scared the shit out of her. The night had mellowed into an eerie calm, the Branch elite resting their weary heads on their feather pillows in the face of humanity''s extinction after a night of ultraviolence. She walked silently through the hall to the greenhouse on their floor, the superfluous one that wasn''t needed for food production but existed as a hobby for Branch''s elite guests if they felt so inclined, overlooking the arena, of course. There were a lot of things to do in Branch Tower for an industrious woman such as herself. None of them were related to what she was good at. None of them were official jobs she was supposed to be doing, either. It had just seemed to her that everyone else was awful at their own jobs. Whoever was in charge of the greenhouse on this floor, for example, was lazy and didn''t seem to know how to tend to any of the crops. There were rows of tomato and lettuce, which just about anyone could grow under normal circumstances. Yet she''d find herself in the greenhouse every so often to see them wilting.


    Vera grabbed the old, tin watering can and filled it up, the hose taking a while before it went from sputtering to pouring a steady stream of water out thanks to how the water purification system worked on-demand and kept little a supply of clean water. Apparently they didn''t want to keep giant tanks of water around, each floor having its own reserve tank that emptied rather quickly, meaning that at times like this she''d have to wait for the system to purify water when she needed it. While it was a nuisance, she understood that outside of those walls, the fight for water was a true struggle, especially clean water that wasn''t contaminated by the bombs. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that while things within the confines of Branch Tower weren''t great, there weren''t many options. The little slice of humanity that she saw outside wasn''t any better than what they found inside of there. At least they had food, water and a roof over their heads.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Oh, sorry," a voice startled her. "I didn''t know that there was anyone in here."


    "Christ," Vera took a deep breath, turning to see TK Gabriel standing in the doorway. "You scared me half to death."


    "Sorry."


    "Wait, you are that movie guy, right?"


    "I guess."


    "We all were a lot of things before, weren''t we?"


    "Now we''re puppets for a raving madman. Seems like an even tradeoff."


    "If you mean Branch..." she said, "I''d keep that to yourself if I were you. He doesn''t take kindly to being questioned. The walls have ears and all of that."


    "Too late for that, I reckon."


    "So you are leaving, then? You just got here and had a big welcome party thrown for you."


    "And I''m already being asked to earn my keep," he said. "Since there don''t seem to be any movie sets or cameras around, my best guess is that he wants to throw me into that pit with his monsters and put on a show for these people."


    "Oh," a sudden feeling of shame consumed her. "You know, not all of us agree with the arena. It''s just... a part of life here."


    "Some life. Doesn''t seem worth the price of admission to me."


    "No, it doesn''t," she said. "I mean, you were a movie star, I was an astrophysicist, now the only thing of worth that I do is water these plants and make sure that William''s gauntlet is in working order."


    "Farrington?"


    "Yes, Farrington... why?"


    "So you made that thing?"


    "Oh, yeah, it''s pretty cool, right?" She perked right up. "It''s like the only thing that I''ve been able to do since everything fell apart that made use of my talents. William might seem like a brute and all, but he''s not that bad. He actually was the one who brought me here and¡ª"


    "I should really be going..."


    "Oh," she said. "Okay, I, uh, nice meeting you?"


    "Right." With that, he exited the room, leaving Vera alone inside of the greenhouse feeling uneasy.

 13. The Engineer

    If Branch was going to toss Gabriel into the arena, there was a very good reason for it. There was also a chance that he''d have to fight Will. In fact, that scenario made sense to her. They brought in Gabriel to a lot of pomp and fanfare, then Will, who was supposed to be retiring from the arena, was told to keep fighting a while longer.


    Vera wasn''t sure what that meant for them, or what it meant for Gabriel, either. Branch might''ve been an asshole, but he was an intelligent asshole that was always looking out for his own interests. Chances were that this wasn''t what it seemed like on the surface at all, and that he was looking to make some sort of grand statement. What that statement was, she wasn''t sure of yet, but she had to find out what Will knew about it. Watering became the afterthought while she stashed the watering can and slapped her palms against her jeans, wiping off the dirt. The hallway was just as quiet, but now it felt ominous instead of peaceful. A blood-curdling cry stopped her dead in her tracks. The cry wasn''t close, but it sounded like it came from outside. The building was sound-proofed, but the cry felt like it shook the building. A chill ran down her spine and she quickened her pace towards their room, fumbling with her room key before hearing the lock click and throwing the door open, slamming it shut behind her while trying to catch her breath.


    "Oh fuck," Will was crooning, huddled over Jenna''s svelte frame, hips rhythmically slamming into her, his hairy ass an eyesore amongst her carved perfection. She could barely make Jenna out from underneath him if it wasn''t for her hands gripping the edge of the bed and her hair whipping around. "Oh yeah, baby, I''m so close."


    "Hurry up and finish," Vera muttered, shaking her head while she walked by towards the kitchen for a drink. Beer bottles littered the table by the bed, clanking against each other while the bed lurched back and forth.


    "Oh, my god baby!" Jenna''s muffled voice came from the dark recesses of the bed.


    "Oh god, oh yes," William was shouting out before he stopped, gave a few more thrusts and collapsed on the bed next to her, panting and fighting for breath. "Now that''s a good fuck," he said, reaching out and slapping Jenna''s still exposed ass on the side, her squealing.


    "Are you done now?" Vera asked.


    "Oh, I could go all night," he jested. "What''s gotten your knickers? You want a go as well?"


    "No, christ," she picked up an opened bottle of vodka, took a sniff and a swig before slamming it back down on the table. "This is serious, fuckwit."


    "I''m all ears then," he said.


    "''cuse me," Jenna gathered up a sheet, wrapping it around her torso and clutching to it lightly while she strode through the room towards the bathroom, almost like she hoped that it''d fall off of her.


    "My god, that one," he said.


    "I need you to focus, Will."


    "Fuckin'' ''ell, I''m focused. Now what''s got your cunt all worked up?"


    "What do you know about TK Gabriel?"


    "That actor bloke?"


    "Yeah, the actor." Sometimes he was so dense.


    "I dunno, just that he''s some cunt arse from Hollywood that ain''t a fan o'' mine."


    "That''s all that you know about him?"


    "Alright, alright, damnit." He swished around a bottle on the nightstand, looking for a drink. "Pass me that vodka, at least?"


    "Fine," she held it out for him, William snatching it and taking a pull. "Now talk."


    "Branch wanted me to get him worked up tonight, you know, all right n'' riled up over what we''re doing. He thinks that he''ll be bad news for all of us, that people might follow him or some''un."


    "So that''s why you didn''t get to retire?"


    "Aye. That''s the bitch of things, innit?"


    "So you know all about this, then? You''re okay with it?"


    "He''s some poofter movie star," he said, taking another pull from the bottle. "What is there to worry about? I''ve got that gauntlet you made, I''ve got the crowd and most importantly, I''ve got Jordan Branch on my side. What else could I need?"


    "How do you know we can trust Branch, though? You were supposed to retire, right? Now you aren''t. I don''t know, Will, I don''t trust this."


    "It''ll be fine, christ," he said. "Why can''t you be more like Jenna?"


    "Because Jenna can''t fix your gauntlet and keep you from getting mauled to death in that arena."


    "Ain''t that the kicker?" he shook his head. "By the way, could you please give ''er a look before tomorrow?"


    "Wait, are you fighting again tomorrow? There is usually some time off in between."


    "Dunno," he said. "Just wanna be prepared is all."


    "I think you know something and you aren''t telling me," she bit at her thumbnail.


    "What the fuck?" He said. "Can you just look at the damned gauntlet for me and make sure that it''s ready to go?"


    "Fine," she picked herself up. "I''ll head down to the workshop now, alright?"Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Thank ya," he gave her a nod, Jenna emerging from the bathroom still wrapped in the sheet, flopping down on the bed next to him.


    Time had slipped away from her and seemed to matter less and less after her conversation with Will, but she knew it was late. The sound that she heard before was fresh in her mind, although she didn''t have time to mention it to Will during his ignorant digressions. He was so thick-headed sometimes and really thought that he was the most important man in that tower outside of Branch. What scared her the most was that he possibly was. If Gabriel posed a threat to Branch''s authority, what did he think about Will, the unstoppable champion of the arena? Will was very much his puppet and was quick to believe Branch, but Branch''s behavior seemed erratic, at best, with his legacy.


    The link of some Hollywood type being a threat was a difficult one for her to make in her mind. People would remember him, sure, but he represented all that wasn''t anymore, while Branch could present his own vision of the future with somewhat tangible results. Then again, his grasp on the situation seemed to slip from his fingers the more that he grew weary of everyone around him. She had seen none of his experiments outside of Demoreo, who made his way throughout the arena and struck fear into the hearts of everyone. The elevator ride down to the basement to where her workshop was located felt like an eternity, thoughts swirling in her head of what Jordan Branch''s true motives could be, what her future was, and what the hell that sound was before.


    As soon as the elevator door opened, a wave of heat rushed at her. The sound of screams, groans and sirens filling the smoke-filled air, mixing with the scent of freshly spilled blood, not that stale smell that permeated the arena. Vera stumbled out of the elevator into the hallway, covering her mouth up from the stench, and made her way towards her workshop. Every bit of her body was urging her to turn back, to get back into the elevator and return to her room, but she wanted to make sure that her workshop was all right. If William''s gauntlet somehow went missing, that would mean the end of all of this, and the end of her. She traced her hand along the wall while she made her way through the dark hallway, only accented by the occasional red light from the alarms. There, laid out in front of her path, lay a still body of a man on the ground before her, Vera having to step over him. She almost slipped on the puddle of blood that surrounded him before catching herself on the knob of a door.


    "Keep it together, Vera," she muttered, pushing forward, knowing that her workshop was just two doors away. The smoke had dissipated, now just the stench of the dead, the alarms and the red light set the tense mood in the hallway. Another door passed. The next one was hers, she reminded herself. "Keep it together," she closed her eyes and pressed forward, the sound of gunshots and shouts from up ahead making her jump out of her skin. Her pace quickened, finding the door, swiping the key card and throwing open the door to see her room undisturbed. The door slammed shut behind her, her body wedging up against it, hoping to keep whatever was going on away from her. Her hand scaled up the door to the deadbolt, fastening it with a click in vain, hope it would be enough.


    The small lamp over the workbench went on with a click, illuminating the desk and the hunk of spiked steel that served as William''s gauntlet laying there looking menacing even in its still state. She always thought it looked goofy on William, but on its own it looked like every bit of an instrument of death that it really was. Charged with a 450mA, it was enough to stop a heart when it hit, but with the impact from his fist to a head, well, the results spoke for themselves. Heads exploded, bodies twitched, and the crowd roared. Everything seemed fine on the gauntlet itself, just in need of a recharge, and it should be ready to go the next day, that is, if he really would be fighting the next day. It was never two nights in a row, ever.


    More gunshots made her jump, then a pounding on the door. "Fuck," she swore under her breath, turning to the lamp and flicking it off. "Fuck fuck fuck."


    "Open up in there!" The voice called, the pounding increasing in intensity. "Open the fuck up now!"


    She reached over to the gauntlet, clumsily slipping it onto her right hand. She wasn''t sure how William dealt with wearing such a cumbersome instrument of destruction, the cold metal with the light leather lining on the inside that his sweaty fist had made malleable and quite rank to the sniff. She flipped the switch on the back, powering it on with the LED indicator showing 50% battery left in it, enough to fry whoever was on the other side of that door. The pounding intensified, followed by the click of the lock. Whoever was on the other end had a key. The deadbolt was still across, but she knew there was a failsafe for that as well, just had to hope this person didn''t have that key.


    "Open the bloody door, damnit! Fine," he said. "Then I''m coming in."


    Click, the bolt unlatched, Vera clenching her right fist tight, gauntlet at the ready. The door swung open, Vera charging at the figure screaming. "Grrraa!" She called before feeling the butt of a rifle connect on her forehead, pain jolting through her body while it dropped hard to the floor.


    "What the bloody hell are ya doing?" The man stood over her. She looked up, her vision blurred but recognizing the red gloves worn by William''s brother, Stuart.


    "Stuart?" She looked up at him, rubbing her head with her left hand.


    "Bloody fuck, Vera." He closed the door behind him. "Ya aren''t supposed ta be here."


    "I was just checking on Will''s gauntlet and..."


    "Didn''t you fuckin'' hear me?" He reached down and grabbed at her arm, tugging her up to her feet. "Get the fuck outta here!"


    "Fuck off, Stuart," she pulled her arm out of his grip. "Don''t fucking touch me."


    "Fuckin'' cunt," he said. "It''s not safe down here, didn''t you hear the gunshots, the screams, see the blood or fuckin'' bodies?"


    "Yeah, but, I..."


    "What part of it not being safe don''t you get, cunt?" He opened the door and looked around. "I''ve gotta get you outta here right the fuck right now, c''mon."


    "Fine," he went to tug at her elbow again, but she resisted, tossing the gauntlet back on the bench. "Just don''t touch me, Stuart, or I''ll have William kick your ass."


    "There won''t be any ass to kick if we don''t fuckin'' move," he tugged her out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushed her ahead of him down the hallway towards the elevator, towards the smoke and the body. "C''mon, c''mon," he said.


    "There''s a body up ahead," she said. "Be careful. It should be just past the next door."


    "Fine," he said. "Just hurry up."


    They continued down the hallway, Vera doing her best to keep her composure, until they reached the spot where the body was. The pool of blood was still there, as was the skid mark from where she had almost slipped. "What the hell," she muttered. "Stuart, this is where the body was, I don''t¡ª"


    "We gotta move," he said. "Go go go, get to that bloody lift already."


    Her heart was beating faster now, confused as to what was going on. Was there an outbreak on that level? Did that body she saw come back to life? A shiver ran down her spine while she started picking up the pace, the smell of the smoke filling her lungs up again and making her cough. The elevator was just a little way ahead; she dashed the last few feet, pressing the call button when she heard a groan from up ahead. Before she knew it, she felt a pair of hands on her and let out a scream. Stuart jogged towards her, firing shots off towards the ceiling.


    "Help!" she cried out, pinned up against the wall and feeling the firm hands pushing her back. His tongue lashed out towards her when another shot rang out and the hands let go, the body slumping over onto her. Vera heard the ding of the elevator and scrambled away from the body, letting it fall to the floor when she heard it¡ªjust like earlier¡ªthe blood-curdling scream that shook the entire building.


    "Oh fuckin'' hell," Stuart muttered, looking down the hall before he started rattling off shots at it. "Get out of here and don''t look back," he called to her, the door sliding shut while he pressed forward, screaming and firing into the smoky abyss.

 14. The Doctor

    That was perhaps the longest night since their arrival at Branch Tower. It was almost unfathomable that this was their final destination, the light at the end of the tunnel, the monument to their salvation. Instead, it was another nightmare with a different wrapper on it. The screams, the shrieks, the alarms all night, while Branch''s guards stood in the hallways with their full riot gear and automatic weapons, urging everyone to stay inside of their rooms. There were no answers to be given, only the privileged few could know what was really happening at that compound.


    Dr. Faraday and Elsie were simply prisoners now, prisoners inside of a fully furnished cell under the pretense of keeping Branch''s idyllic society afloat. There was no life outside of whatever Branch demanded unless you were one of his filthy-rich. She learned that the hard way when Branch had assigned her to clinic duty while they were leaving his personal box after that... display, whatever he wanted to crusade it around as. It was not only inhumane; it was inhuman to force people¡ªsurvivors of the apocalypse¡ªto tear each other to shreds for entertainment value.


    "Auntie Ruth?" Elsie balled her fists up and rubbed at her eyes. She had fallen asleep just before sunrise, after the cries and the alarms had stopped. From one nightmare into the next for this poor girl.


    "I''m here, sweetie," she pulled her in closer.


    "Is everything okay?"


    "Everything is great, the alarms have stopped and everything is normal again."


    "I''m hungry, can we eat?"


    "I suppose that we should," she said. "I''m going to have an interesting day ahead of me."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Well, you know that Auntie Ruth is a doctor, right?"


    Elsie nodded.


    "I need to go and help people for a while, so you''ll be on your own, but you can watch TV and you can color and..."


    "No!" The girl grasped onto her tightly. "You can''t leave!"


    "Oh sweetheart, I have to help people, but I promise that I''ll be back."


    "You promise?"


    "Of course I do." She ran her fingers through Elsie''s curls.


    "... Mom promised me that we''d be here together, but..." Tears welled up in her eyes.


    "Oh Elsie, I''m so sorry. It''ll just be a little while and..."


    There was a pounding at the door that caught her off-guard. Then another.


    "Hello?" she called out, Elsie having pulled a pillow over her head, scared to death considering the commotion the last night.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Don''t get it," the girl said.


    "It''ll be alright, I promise."


    The lock undid itself and the door swung open, two of Branch''s goons from the prior night storming into the room. "Doesn''t anyone answer their fuckin'' door anymore?"


    "Oh, uh, Stuart, is it?"


    "Aye," he said, a gun draped over his shoulder.


    "She just had such a difficult time sleeping last night is all, I was just explaining to her that I had to help some people today."


    "Oh," he looked confused. "Yeah, you uh, gotta help the nice people. She''ll be back, don''t ya worry. C''mon, doc, ya got work ta do."


    "We were going to get some breakfast first, if that''s okay."


    "Nope, gotta get this show movin'' already."


    "Come now, we don''t have time for some toast and juice, at least?"


    "No," he said, keeping the quiet, shorter man with the scars at bay after he had pushed towards her aggressively. "Fuck off, Vic, I got this. I don''t think that you understand, doc. Mr. Branch runs a tight ship, we need you to report there now."


    "I understand," she said, pulling Elsie in tight and kissing her on the forehead. "I''ll be back soon, won''t I, Stuart?"


    "Um, yeah, just watch the tele or sum''thin. Vic," he said to the shorter man, "bring the girl some toast and juice, alright?"


    He didn''t reply, just a curt nod, and he left the room. Dr. Faraday gave Elsie another kiss on the forehead and wiped away a tear before she picked herself up and followed Stuart out of the room.


    "Thank you," she said, as he led her down the hallway.


    "Huh?"


    "For getting her something to eat, she was so scared last night, you know. What was that?"


    "What was what?"


    "The screams, the alarms, the gunfire, the guards, the whole thing."


    "Oh, right, just uh, had an issue to deal with down in the labs is all."


    "I see," she said. "Is that near where the clinic is?"


    "Ha," he chortled, "clinic? Who told ya that, Branch? He wishes it was a clinic. It''s a fuckin'' mess."


    "So what will I be doing, exactly?"


    "Few''a my boys got hurt last night, some pretty bad, doc. And we need someone to look after the boys from the arena and all..."


    "I see. He had said something about research, I just wasn''t sure..."


    "Peterson lost his head the other night. Maybe if ya impress the big man, there''s a spot in research, although I wouldn''t want none''uh that."


    "Is Mr. Branch''s research that difficult?"


    "You could say," he ushered her into the elevator, pressing the button for the basement level. The ride down was quiet. Stuart liked to keep to himself it seemed, much like everyone else. Branch was the only one boasting and feeling free, while everyone else was simply living inside of his world.


    "About the arena..."


    "What?"


    "Is that... normal?"


    He laughed again, "Whaddaya mean ''normal?'' Like, does it happen often? Ya, my brother is the champion."


    "The man with the exploding punch?"


    "Aye, that''s my big brother."


    "You must be... proud?"


    "Oh ya, we''re doin'' alright here. Branch seems ta like us, everythin'' is great."


    "That''s good, I suppose. Your brother put on quite a spectacle."


    "Yeah, well, I do my job well, too, but I just don''t have to put on a big fuckin'' show about it. I''m Branch''s right hand. He can''t exist without me. My brother? Pffft."


    "I''m sure that you are valued."


    "Ya damned straight. Branch''ll talk shit about Will, too, ya know? Calls him a louse, lazy, stupid, but I keep my mouth shut. He gets two broads in his room. I ain''t got shit, but does Stuart complain when his monster breaks loose and kills ten of my men? Oh no, I clean up that mess and..."


    She looked on in horror.


    "Oh, sorry, I uh, you should forget that last bit about the monster and whatnot."


    "Understood."


    He led her through the same parking structure as before, although it was more quiet. Fresh blood stained the walls at the basement level, the stench of blood, ammonia, and unease filled the air. So much so that it was a welcome reprieve to step out into the parking structure, that was, until she saw the cots laying out with the mangled bodies adorning them. A few were clearly dead, but others had crude IV lines running into them and were strapped down, struggling and calling out for anyone.


    "My god..."


    "Kinda a mess down here," he apologized, "but uh, we need some help."


    "Yes, yes, you do."

 15. The Doctor

    Working without much sleep wasn''t uncommon for Dr. Faraday, even before the fall of mankind. Earlier on in her career, she had worked tirelessly before she had her own practice, then things calmed down, although not by much. Being in charge might have been a dream for many, but for her, it felt like an unneeded complication. Practicing was her passion, not managing receptionists, nurses, and dealing with supplies. Little did she know how valuable those skills would be after the bombs dropped, after that comfortable life and career that she had built was smoldering ashes.


    Horrors in that post-humanity era were around every corner. They never ended. Branch Tower was supposed to be the end-of-the-line, although she had always expected it not to even exist. Perhaps it would have been better if it hadn''t existed, if the lack of an oasis had disappointed the caravan in the middle of the wasteland, yet it was real and it was the end for most of them. The fresh horror, though, was the men that she was tending to. Their injuries were all fatal. This was simply comfort care, although there were enough painkillers to put them to sleep and let them at least go quietly. In fact, it took aback her by how much morphine there was.


    It was almost like he prepared for the world to fall apart. Then again, it was mostly his fault. The undead were from his program and the nukes were from his tests in Kharkiv, where a few of the subjects escaped, triggering the first outbreak. Everything after that was a blur, everything that is, except for these men and their strange, animalistic wounds. They looked like they were mauled. Stuart was shy about giving details, but it was clear from that... that beast that they saw in the arena the night before. No human had inflicted those injuries.


    "Doc," Stuart approached her, "Handsome Bill needs ya ta look over the boys before tonight."


    "What about these men?"


    "Ya done the best for ''em, more than any of us coulda. They got morphine, that''s the best they can expect."


    "I''m not a surgeon, I can''t save any of them, I just..."


    "Nobody was askin'' ya to."


    With that, he led her to an area off to the side behind a chainlink fence wrapped in barbed wire. There was a giant chain and lock on the door and two guards stood there. When they saw Stuart approaching, they unlocked it and swung the door open for him, Stuart letting her go in before him. It was simply a continuation of the parking structure, but filled with men in ill-fitting armor mulling about. These must be the competitors for Branch''s archaic games. Stuart led her to a large bald man in a pair of tight overalls with a clipboard.


    "Ah Stuart, my boy," he slapped Stuart on the back, Stuart cringing and holding back a curse. "Who ya got with ya? This one ain''t for the arena, eh?"


    "Nah, she''s a doc. She can help patch up these boys before they head out there."


    "Fuck me, finally some help down here? I''m Handsome Bill and I care for all of these scoundrels before they entertain you lot."


    "I''m Dr. Faraday, a pleasure, I''m sure."


    "Listen to her!" He laughed. "All proper and whatnot, she new or what?"


    "Fresh in off the boat," Stuart said. "Bill, you take care''v this''un, ya hear me?"


    "Aye aye aye," he spat. "Won''t let any of these mangy mutts get their paws on her, just fuck off already."


    "Fuck you, Bill," Stuart said, although she wasn''t able to tell if they were joking or not anymore. The animosity seemed real, although laced with begrudging respect. With that, he stomped off, leaving her with this mountain of a man and his clipboard.


    "Just the two of us then, ain''t it? I s''pose ya should start checkin'' the boys out."


    "Where are your medical supplies?"


    "Over here behind me, we''ve got the medical closet. I''ll send ''em in if they need watchin'', but it''ll mostly be after the fights. Feel free ''ta walk around and see who needs what. I gotta lotta prep for tonight."


    She settled into the closet, doing a quick inventory of what was in there. Essentially, it was just the basics; painkillers, bandages, wraps, a few crude tools, and some rubbing alcohol for sterilization. For a place that was supposed to be the brightest hope for humanity, where Branch was conducting top-secret, mankind-saving experiments, he sure didn''t share most of his medical supplies. Not all men were worth saving, which hit her harder than she thought that it would. She had known that since the moment that Branch''s goons assaulted the convoy, but there was still that strange flicker of hope for humanity burning inside of her.


    These tools weren''t to save lives, they were stopgaps to keep someone from immediately bleeding out. There were no signs of anticoagulants, antibiotics or anything that she''d really need to treat what would be gruesome injuries, just like those guards that she had simply provided minimal comfort care to. The look on that boy''s face¡ªStuart¡ªtold the total story. A part of him thought that she''d be able to work some sort of miracle for those men, to save them with the crude tools at her disposal, only to let them die.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The battles outside had begun. That much was clear from the booming sounds that shook the entire structure. The ebb and flow of the crowd made her stomach churn. Those boys that she had walked by before¡ªthe ones in the crude armor with the makeshift weapons¡ªthey were the ones out there, and they were killing each other for the entertainment of the people. For Branch. She''d like to say that she heard his voice breaking through, but she didn''t. It was just a part of her mind looking for a reason, or at least someone to blame.


    The wounded started to stream through, some with minor cuts and abrasions, others brought back on stretchers either dead or barely clinging to life. Quickly she fell into a pattern; sort by wound severity and chance of survival, the mortally wounded got shots of morphine, those who might live got shots of adrenaline along with their morphine and the living with the minor scrapes and cuts were given a few Ibuprofen pills and a cup of water.


    "Doc, doc, doc," one of the men that she thought wouldn''t make it through the hour clawed up at the sky before finding her shirt and tugging at it.


    "Oh sweetie," she felt his forehead, him running a fever and beaded with sweat, "you have to hold still. Don''t make me call Bill over to strap you down."


    "Just gimme the juice already," he grit his teeth.


    "I need you awake. If I let you sleep, I''m not sure that you''ll wake..."


    "Just do it!" His face was mangled in desperation.


    "I... can''t, if you''ll just hold on..."


    "I''ve been holdin'', I was victorious today, let that be my legacy."


    "At what cost?"


    "Just... Please."


    Dr. Faraday hovered over him with a needle in hand. This was 60mgs, enough to put him out for a while and take away his pain. With the right tools, though, this man could be saved. Those tools weren''t at her disposal, but they had to be in this compound, otherwise what was the point of all of this? She had to find Handsome Bill or Stuart and try to get this man something more than just a ticket to the infinite dark. Too many had died already in the name of nothing. She dropped the syringe and stalked off, looking for someone, anyone, when she tripped over a set of boots.


    Her eyes followed them before she gasped, "Tom? What are you doing here?"


    There sat TK Gabriel, all decked out in a set of new, distressed leather clothing, leaning up against a set of lockers with his eyes closed. This was one of his things. She learned that quickly when he had arrived at their outpost; he slept sitting up with a gun in his hand, propped up against his bike. There was no way that it was restful sleep, but even now, there he was, without his bike and that giant tarp that was tied to the back of it, or his gun, sleeping, sitting up.


    "Yeah," he groaned. "I''m here."


    "But why?"


    He just shrugged.


    "Don''t tell me that they are making you fight."


    He let out a sigh and a miniscule set of nods.


    "But... But why? Weren''t you a guest of honor?"


    "He pissed off the boss," Bill boomed. "Ya don''t get made guest of honor and then piss all over yer host, everyone knows that."


    "So he''s tossing you out into that pit to fight for your life?"


    "Don''t sound so incredulous, doc, that''s how it works now. I thought ya knew that. Oh, and Gabriel, Branch gave the go ahead on the ring. They''re setting it up right now, but be mighty careful. I heard that Farrington is stomping around and he''s pissed, though."


    "I''ll deal." Tom stretched his arms out and pulled himself up to his feet.


    "I don''t get ya, antagonizing the lot here. Ya just got here." He shook his head and started to walk off before the doctor grabbed his arm.


    "Bill, do we have any other medical supplies at all? I can''t save lives with this. There''s a boy over there now and..."


    "No," he said.


    "But..."


    "Do what ya can with what ya got. I''ve got enough problems right now than to worry about some bilge rat, okay?"


    "I just... Okay."


    With that, she turned back to her closet and back to the cot where that boy lay, only he was passed out. The needle, she thought, remembering having placed it down. There was it, next to him, and emptied. One simple mistake, and she had sealed his fate. Maybe that''s what she knew and had done it unwittingly? There was no way of knowing anymore. Her head was swimming.


    "What the fuck is this bullocks?" She turned to see Will Farrington shouting at anyone and everyone.


    "This is what he requested," Bill said. "Branch told me it was fine, I dunno, Will, I take orders from Branch."


    "They are out there right now putting together my ring for this poofter," he pointed at Tom, who was still feigning that he was asleep. "That''s bollocks! They''ll think that it''s me comin'' out, then it''s this arsehole."


    "My hands are tied, Will, they really are."


    "You answer to me!"


    "I answer to Mr. Branch."


    "Fuck this," Farrington unloaded on a locker.


    "Calm down there, big guy," Tom stretched his arms out.


    "You," Farrington kicked at his boot before stooping down in front of Tom''s face. "Do you think this is a fuckin'' game? Or you think this is funny? I''ll destroy you out there, gut ya like a pig, and let Crusher eat your innards."


    "Oh, are we fighting tonight? The ring should be out there."


    "You fuckin'' twat," he spat, storming off. "I''m going to Branch."


    "That wasn''t good," Bill said.


    "How long until my fight?"


    "Oh, uh," Bill scratched his chin, studying his clipboard. "Looks like yer up next, once this lot is done. Better get a move on, eh?"


    "No shit," Tom said, stretching his arms out before sliding the jacket on. He looked like he had in the movies, which is what Branch had wanted out of him. Branch wanted poor Tom to be that man that he portrayed in the movies, the dashing action hero, and he wanted him to die in his arena. The Tom that she had known¡ªeven briefly¡ªwas quiet, kept to himself, but could handle weapons and take care of himself. She owed him her life now, but he didn''t seem to care to collect on that debt. Granted, she''d still do whatever she could for him. He just had to stay alive.


    "Alright, here''s your weapon." Bill held the bat out handle first at TK. "Good luck out there. You''re gonna need it."


    "Gee, thanks," TK said, following Bill towards the mouth of the arena. She trailed behind them. With each step, the calls of the crowd grew louder and more violent. Two guards were supporting a beaten up man on their shoulders, the "victor" of the last fight, who looked like he wouldn''t survive the night. TK stood in front of the gate, peaking through the cracks to see the ring about 30 yards out. The announcer''s voice boomed in a barely decipherable voice, the crowd erupting once again while the gate began to creak open.


    "Git out there," Bill pushed him from behind. "It''s your go!"


    "Fuck off, Bill," TK said, gripping onto the bat tightly in his left hand, taking a few test swings with the blunt weapon. Now he just had to survive. Bill looked back at her and nodded towards a door off to the side.


    "Ya can watch from that box there, if ya want."


    "What about this last bunch of boys?"


    "We both know that they''re dead," he shrugged. "Watch some fights."

 16. The Doctor

    Dr. Faraday settled into an empty seat overlooking the chaos, taken aback again by the atmosphere of the arena. TK stepped out onto the bloodstained sands of the arena while the crowd both cheered and booed. That display from the previous night set some of them off, Branch selling it like TK had spurned society and doomed humanity for good instead of Branch himself doing all the dirty work. TK held the bat up to the sky while he strode towards the ring, hopping up onto the apron and surveying the crowd before stepping into the ropes, arms outstretched.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, TK Gabriel!" The announcer''s voice was more discernible from inside of the ring now. She felt her stomach turning in knots. He could deal with this, couldn''t he? He survived the end of the world and even saved a few people along the way, including her. Surely he wasn''t afraid of being in front of crowds. That was how he made his living, although that was a long time ago, a lifetime even. "Bring out the dead!"


    The crowd broke out into a cheer while the opposing gate opened up, a small horde of undead flowing out like the levee had just broken. "My god," she muttered under her breath. There were no less than 20 shambling towards the ring. Last night they had seen Farrington get a gimme, having to fend off five or six, not twenty. Things were not looking good, and he was inside of a certified death trap if he hung out inside of that ring. The only way that he''d survive was to meet them head on, and it looked like he knew it. He climbed out from between the ring ropes and hopped down, bat in hand, charging towards them silently¡ªat least, she thought¡ªit was difficult to hear from where she was.


    The first one had some speed to him, but inertia wasn''t on his side. TK sidestepped him and swung the bat up to meet his skull, the head of the bat connecting and with a sickening thud, sending skull fragments and brain matter flying. The next one came easily to him, arcing the bat over his head and down onto the top of his skull. Two were coming towards him, TK planting his boot into the stomach of one and sending it onto its ass, swinging the bat towards the other one''s head, the body falling on top of the other.


    The truth was, the undead weren''t a colossal risk unless they were stampeding in a pack. In fact, they were quite easy to kill once you''ve been dealing with them for a while. She herself has killed at least a dozen of them, well, if you could call caving in an undead monster''s skull killing. Depending on how long they had been dead, their bodies could be in different stages of decay, some much worse than others. If the leg muscles were mostly intact, they could run, but on average, they were stuck at a snail''s pace. This meant that TK could take his time and pick them off one-by-one and be okay. A few had grouped up, but they were too slow for his bat and the occasional kick. The crowd gave an "ooh" when he swung his leg up with a roundhouse kick that took one of the heads clean off. These had been dead for a while, that was for sure.


    If this was all that they had for him, he''d make simple work of them. He just had to keep his head and stay alive, flowing from one to the next, aiming for the head or neck to ensure that they didn''t get back up. What was clear was that he knew what he was doing in that arena against those ghouls. The final one approached, TK deciding to put on a bit of a show, which she groaned at. Just get this over with. He jabbed the toe of his boot into the knee of the zed, it crashing down to the sand. The decaying man tried to claw his way back up to his feet, making it up to one knee while TK measured him, playing to the crowd before swinging his left leg around and connecting with the skull, sending the head flying off into the first row of the crowd. Screams and adulation followed, TK looking up towards Branch''s box and pointing the bat towards him.


    "Very well, Mr. Gabriel," Branch''s voice boomed throughout the arena. "You want a challenge, you''ve got it."


    From the distance, she saw TK''s wry smile and saw it start to dissipate; he had made it look too easy. The undead were hardly a challenge. Anyone who had survived in the wasteland for any period knew that. They were slow, dumb, and only really dangerous in giant herds that could overwhelm an individual. What was at first the greatest horror imaginable became commonplace to TK and the savvy survivor. They had blended into the rest of the wildlife and were only a threat in the most extreme of situations. Farrington had made a show over dispatching a paltry group of the undead the prior night. Now TK had shown him up with ease, then taunted the man with his fingers on the controls. The ring greeted him as a place to retreat to, looking around anxiously, awaiting the next challenge.


    The great gates parted, the rumble echoing through the arena, followed by the same deafening cry that had kept her awake the previous night. Faraday''s blood ran cold while the colossal figure emerged from the shadows of the arena and out into the bath of flood lights. The Crusher stood menacingly in the doorway. Only something had changed. Before a wild beast of a man that ran amok inside of the arena, destroying anything and everything in his path was standing on the fringes of the arena looking controlled, staring directly at TK. He was different, though, there were pieces of metal jutting out from his skull that weren''t there prior, lining his bald head line a crown of thorns, leading into a brace that ran down his neck.


    A smaller door to his side creaked open. He mustn''t of heard it because he jumped when he realized it, so focused on the giant beast before him. There was no explanation needed; Branch wanted TK dead, and he wanted to do it in a grand display. Whatever he did to the Crusher, it made him somehow more of a menace than before. Before he was a monster, a rampaging beast on display, but the cool intelligence on display made TK freeze in place. Two figures emerged from the door, both outfitted in ill-fitting leather armor adorned with spikes and chains, wielding makeshift weapons. The one with the leather skull cap carried a chain while the one with the pink mohawk and the beer gut had a 2x4 strung with barbed wire like they were Christmas lights.


    They both stood in either corner of the ring, staring down at TK and laughing. They had him cornered, at least they thought. TK had to tear himself away from staring down the monster at the lip of the arena and focus on these two goons. The chain swung around the thug''s wrist, TK studying both men carefully while Dr. Faraday''s heart was pounding. He pointed the bat at the chain-bearer''s face; the crowd cheering while he stood just pointing the bat, the two men looked on, confused, slowly advancing, the chain-bearer making sure not to get anywhere near the bat, for fear of some sort of hidden blade or another trick, she supposed. With cat-like reflexes, TK arced the bat, smashing into the chest of the second man, sending him to the canvas in a heap. The chain whipped towards him, TK unable to duck it, instead holding up his right hand and feeling it slap across his wrist before wrapping itself around his hand.


    A quick tug from the thug pulled TK off kilter, him stumbling forward. The thug came at him with a wild hook, TK dodging it with a strategic knee to the stomach that sent the thug reeling back. He wrangled his hand free from the chain; him taking the bat into both hands with an overhead slash, only for it to meet the chain. The thug spun around, wrapping the bat up in the chain and with a mighty tug, TK''s grip on the bat loosened, it flying from his hands, leaving him defenseless. Before he could catch his breath, TK threw an elbow into the face of the man, followed by another that threw him back into the corner. TK faked like he was going for his bat, the chain whipping down towards it only for TK to fling his body at the thug, knee-point extended and it connecting flush on the jaw, sending the thug back into the corner. With a leap, TK lunged at him, bringing his elbow down onto the crown of the man''s head, watching the man slink down to the mat in a heap.


    TK paused in the ring, and she wished that he''d just end this already. The crowd became unglued, the Crusher still standing there staring at TK in the ring. TK pointed at him and then to Branch, not paying close enough attention to the two men in the ring, one blasting him in the gut with a barbed wire back. TK reeled, the man trying to free the bat but finding it lodged in the jacket. Luckily, TK was quick to react, throwing a right cross that connected on the temple and sent the thug back down to the mat with a thud. He cried out while he pried the barbs loose, blood flowing freely from the dozens of tiny puncture wounds and tears. This wasn''t working. Survive. That''s all that he needed to do right now. It was them or him.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Branch and TK had locked eyes again, if just for a brief second. He needed to focus on those men, not on the one up in that box, but she understood how his cold, steely eyes were a distraction. She could hear that voice now, hear him scolding TK for not wanting to be one of them, for finding this whole thing repulsive. It was repulsive, though. TK spat on the mat, blood mixed in with his saliva. The crowd noise was just a steady hum now, a part of her existence that he was able to tune out, but could only imagine how he felt in that ring, awash in it. Crusher was still there, still staring at him, but not advancing.


    "What''s wrong with your attack dog, Branch?" TK shouted, the microphones littered around the ring, picking up his calls and amplifying them around the arena. "You upset that I''m not gonna kill these men? You gonna send the big one after me now? He looks pretty tame compared to last night."


    "Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Gabriel," Branch said over the loudspeaker. "I wouldn''t poke the hornet''s nest if I were you. This is nothing more than a demonstration of my power. Crusher now does precisely what I ask of him."


    "What''s he gonna do, kill me?" He asked. "I''m already dead, Branch. This whole fucking world is dead."


    "On the contrary," he said. "Both of those men are already dead. You''ve sealed their fate whether you like it or not, Mr. Gabriel."


    "That blood is on your hands."


    "The only way to survive the arena is to stay alive, to kill your opponents. We aren''t changing the rules now, are we?"


    "I don''t care about your rules."


    "So be it," Branch said. "Oh, and TK... Behind you."


    TK spun on his heel only to feel the chain kiss his cheek, hopelessness overpowering her from the stands, shouting at him to turn around. The chain snapped around his right ankle, with a tug TK slamming onto the mat on his left shoulder hard. He reached out, fumbling around with his hand towards his bat only for it to be kicked out of the ring, the sound of a menacing laugh coming from the thug with the chain.


    "Oh, you thought you were a clever one, didn''t you?" He said.


    TK fought onto his back, only to have to roll out of the way of a giant ball of chain that slammed down into the place where he was lying. The barbed wire 2x4 sat next to him, TK grabbing a hold of it and thrusting at the thug who tried to avoid it. The wire was coming unraveled from the 2x4. He flailed it in the air while he picked himself up. The thug whipped the chain at him again, only this time TK could catch it underneath his arm, clenching his arm tight to his ribs, but the chain slapping against his body, which she knew had to hurt.. With all of his might, he reeled in the thug, chain loop by chain loop, the goon still fuzzy from the elbow that TK had planted on him earlier and unable to keep his balance. With a swing he slammed the 2x4 into the left arm of the thug, who cried out in pain, relenting his grip on the chain, it coiling onto the canvas.


    He dropped his portion of the chain, letting it slap onto the mat, leaving just the 2x4 as the only weapon left inside of the ring. TK swung it in an upward arc with the butt of the exposed end of the 2x4, the thug catching onto it. A game of tug-of-war ensued, TK''s leather gloves gripping onto the barbed wire doing his best to avoid the barbs only for the barbed wire slip loose from the 2x4, sending TK crashing to the canvas with the spool of barbed wire in his hand. The plank of wood sailed at his head, TK rolling out of the way again.


    With desperation he kicked at the plank, the thug losing grip of it only to turn back to TK and have the barbed wire spool scrape up against his face. He cried out in pain while TK leaped back up to his feet, still favoring his stomach and all the micro cuts from the barbed wire. The thug swung at TK with a haymaker, throwing all of his weight into it and missing by a mile. TK bringing his knee up to his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. TK pivoted on his right foot and arced his left leg up, it sailing through the air before his shin cracked against the thug''s neck, him crumpling to the canvas next to the other thug.


    "That''s it," TK muttered, it barely being picked up by the in-ring mics. "That''s it."


    "Crusher!" Branch called out, his voice cracking. "Kill him! Kill all of them!"


    He was slower to react now, but he turned around, her unable to discern the look on his face. He surveyed the ring. All the weapons had fallen outside of it and Crusher was striding towards him with an air of confidence beyond that of just some mindless killing machine. All that was left was the spool of barbed wire. TK scrambled for something, anything, to do with it. He needed something to wrap it around that he could smack the Crusher with, something other than his arms, which would get equally torn up. With each mighty stomp, he grew closer and began spooling the barbed wire around his left boot. He was going to try to kick that thing with barbed wire? Surely that was suicide.


    Crusher had closed the rest of the distance with a mighty leap, leaving him just outside of the ring. He had to be standing at least nine feet tall, a bubbling mass of muscle and viscera that was grumbling, growling and swatting his mighty claws at the ring, them bouncing off of the ropes. Crusher was trying to climb in. TK needed to get the hell out of there. She could feel the perspiration running down her back and her blood flow quicken. Yet, he would fight; he was standing his ground. With her in disbelief, he planted his foot and swung his left leg into a roundhouse kick to the ribs of the monster, the barbed wire making contact and searing through his flesh, sending out a mighty scream throughout the arena.


    Dear god, what was he doing?


    Crusher kept advancing unfazed, though, TK landing a few more blows and each one doing damage, but not stopping the advance of the beast. Crusher momentarily found himself tangled up in the ropes which left an opening for TK, TK charging at him, springing off of one of the turnbuckles in the corner and launching his wire-entwined boot at the exposed neck of Crusher.


    Smash.


    The kick connected, sending a screech throughout the arena, TK landing hard on his back while Crusher writhed around outside of the ring grasping onto his head. "Crusher, get up!" Branch was screaming at the top of his lungs. "Get up and kill him! Get up!"


    Crusher was tearing at the device that was lodged into his neck, tearing at the metal rods and wiring that ran through his skull and neck, still screaming while he lumbered up to his feet. Something was different, the look in the monster''s eyes, the fury. A profound sense of horror washed over her while he scrambled out of the ring on the other side, Crusher pulling himself up, snapping the top rope and snatching at the mohawk''d thug. The thug cried out, Crusher grabbing him by his neck, the scream quickly muffled when Crusher''s maw came down around the head. Just like that, the body went limp, blood streaming down the body and onto Crusher''s hand.


    "Oh no," she cried out, watching as Crusher tossed the lifeless body aside like a rag doll and pawed at the second man. He was still knocked out from the head kick, making him easy prey. Crusher grabbing him by the leg and jerked him up off the canvas effortlessly. TK found the bat on the ground, picking it up and sliding back into the ring. "Put him down," he called at Crusher, only to be swatted down with one mighty blow, his head bouncing against the bottom turnbuckle. The ring shook as the second body was slammed down onto the mat. Again. Again. Finally, Crusher stuffed the body into his mouth, crunching down on him, cracking through the ribs, cleaving the body into two, slipping from either side of his mouth and down onto the mat.


    He had to get out of there; he had to save himself. There was a valiant effort on his part not to kill those two men, but he couldn''t save anyone. He needed to save himself. They were dead, and he was next. Crusher''s hand came for him, TK responding with another kick that connected with his palm, Crusher letting out a roar and recoiling. The monster was recoiling from the kicks. The sting of the barbed wire had seemingly burned itself into his mind. Just like that, TK''s posture changed and there was a sense of confidence exuding from him, walking towards the monster this time, ducking under another swat of the hand and leveling at his ribs with another kick.


    Crusher let out a scream, tumbling backwards and out of the ring onto his back. The crowd was in disbelief; the monster was actually running from something. Somehow he was hurting and was realizing the sting from those kicks was just going to keep coming back. The sound that he made, whatever device was in there, when he hit that metal it must have sent some sort of shock wave throughout his body. Crusher was retreating, TK hopping onto the monster''s back in an overly confident move only for Crusher''s elbow to drive into his injured ribs and sent him crashing into the sand. Crusher was still retreating.


    "God damnit," Branch shouted. "Subdue him!"


    Guards swarmed out from the tunnels with their stun batons, driving them into the monster who yelped with each one, it taking at least eight of them before he went down. While they dragged his limp body back into the bowels of the arena, TK pulled himself back up to his feet, looking like he had just survived hell, but alive. He pumped his fist up into the air and the crowd went wild, Branch storming away from his box while TK stood in the arena victorious and, most importantly, alive.

 17. The Brawler

    Will''s entire world was spinning out of control. The word had come down that Branch had lost it, that the event was over, and Will felt like he was standing there with his dick in his hand. "Bill, what is this bollocks?"


    "It''s over, Will," Handsome Bill was securing the weapons and helping to herd the would-be combatants. "Call it a night."


    "That was my ring out there," he said. "He fought in my goddamned ring and he defeated the fucking Crusher! That tosser got the win I had been planning on for bloody years!"


    "He didn''t kill him or anything."


    "He had him down! They had to stop it so he wouldn''t kill him!"


    "There was an experimental mind control device installed in Crusher last night," Branch emerged from the shadows. "You may have heard some of the... complications from it last evening."


    "Fuckin'' hell I did."


    "We thought we had it under control¡ªyou saw him out there, didn''t you?"


    "That pisser Gabriel?"


    "No, Crusher! Crusher, William. He was calm, serene even."


    "Oh, well, that was the kicker innit?"


    "It was working so well, then Gabriel had to kick him just in the right spot, just the right spot to interfere with our work, to disrupt his brainwaves, bring back memories, I don''t know what it did, but Crusher is a mess now."


    "You let him defeat the Crusher," Will said. "That was mine. We''d been teasing it for how long?"


    "Crusher isn''t dead yet, Will."


    "Fuckin'' hell. Everyone saw that wanker knock ''em down," he said, fuming. "They saw him fall to that pissant!"


    "I''d watch your tone with me, Mr. Farrington," Branch scowled. "Your grasp on that crowd is tenuous at best right now. From what I saw, they seemed to buy what Mr. Gabriel was selling."


    "Erm, eh," Will felt like he had just been punched in the gut. "I didn''t mean to, Mr. Branch, I just¡ª"


    "I''ve got more pressing matters to deal with than your bruised ego, Mr. Farrington. You and Mr. Gabriel will meet in that arena, eventually. Let''s just hope that for both of our sakes that you emerge the victor. I''d hate to lose your... comradery."


    Branch turned and strutted off. William left standing there, lost. He remembered the conversation that he had with Vera the night before about being careful and being aware of where Branch stood. That creeping thread of a thought in the back of his mind, of what would happen if things with Branch went south, even after all he did to help build up Branch''s arena, was all he could focus on. William had been the avatar for everyone''s hopes, dreams, and fears after the apocalypse. He was the everyman who came from nothing and brawled his way to whatever was left of fame and fortune in Branch''s new world.


    All that was left for William in this bleak husk of a world was his glory in the arena. Without that, what was he but a British tourist in the wrong place for the end of the world? Stuart had found his calling to be a thug. In fact, it felt like the most natural thing ever for him. William had done everything in his power before the fall to ensure that Stuart kept out of trouble, which was more trouble than it was worth. In a way, the end of the world was beneficial for the both of them. Stuart was a natural with a machine gun slung over his shoulder and Will was a natural performer wearing an electrified gauntlet in front of thousands of people, blowing up the heads of the undead.


    "I guess you didn''t need that thing looked after, anyway." Vera''s voice broke him from his reverie.


    "What?"


    "I didn''t have time to give that a full diagnostic last night, anyway." Vera stood before him like an apparition. "So it''s a good thing they don''t want you out there, I''d say."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "What do you mean?"


    "Well, your brother can probably answer that better than I can, but when I was looking over it last night, he burst into my workshop and¡ª"


    "What the fuck do you know about my life, cunt?" Will was seething, unable to control himself.


    "Whoa, hey, what the¡ª"


    "No, bugger the fuck off!" Something had snapped inside of him. "You want me to fail, don''t you? This is all some fuckin'' game for you. This is my plowing life."


    "Okay, first of all, you don''t talk to me like that," she said. "I''m the one keeping you alive out there. That gauntlet is¡ª"


    "I said bugger the fuck off!" He shouted in her face, watching her recoil in disgust.


    "Fuck you, Will," she said, storming off in a huff.


    "Cunt," he hissed while she stormed off, finding himself pacing alone in the bowels of the parking structure. Bill had run off to tend to the fighters and to stow the weapons so they wouldn''t try to use them for some sort of escape or uprising, meaning that it was just him and his thoughts. Will didn''t need to worry about that, about being penned up before his time to fight, he had his suite to return to, he had the loving, warm and sometimes sticky embrace of Jenna to keep him occupied, but he felt like he just needed a drink. The gauntlet was still on his hand. He knew he should return it to Vera, but he could always give it to her later. She was in a mood, and he had probably just fucked things up with her for a while. No need to make it worse. Walking around with it made him feel powerful, which was more than he could say after such a lousy day. He staggered towards the glass doors and the lifts, having had enough of lamenting on his grasp on the crowd and Branch''s affections.


    "Going up?" A voice came from in front of the elevator. William had somehow not seen him standing there, but knew who it was. His blood boiled. "Need a drink, then?"


    "Fuck off," Will snarled.


    "Whatever," Gabriel said, standing there without a shirt, his ribs taped with blood-soaked wraps.


    "You''ll fall outta favor soon enough," William stared at the numbers above the lift, watching the light crawl down towards the B2 level like it was taking an eternity. "You''ll see, fickle cunts, I''ve seen ''em eat poofters like you alive out there."


    "I''m sure that you have."


    "Well, what the fuck do you know?" Will gripped his right hand closer. He could, in a single stroke, be done with TK Gabriel once and for all. William glared up at TK, standing there watching the elevator, clenching his fist and imagining the blood everywhere. It would be murder, no doubt about it, but it wasn''t like society still existed. This was Jordan Branch''s society, and William had killed many in its name. What would one more be? William gave himself some distance, lining up the shot with his eye when the lift chimed, the door sliding open.


    "Oh fuck," TK said. "I forgot something, it''s all yours." He motioned for William to step in, William doing so and sneering.


    "Fuckin'' cunt," he snarled, the door shutting. "If you only knew how close you came to losin'' yer cocksuckin'' head."


    The lift stopped on the penultimate floor, William plodding out towards his room. Branch claimed to hate Gabriel, yet he gave him a suite after all of that? None of it made any sense anymore. Gabriel should''ve been down with the rest of the murderous scum at Bill''s Den. At least he''d have Jenna, still. At the end of every day, that was something that he knew he could rely on; Jenna was always there, in her loving embrace. In fact, he heard her laugh while he slinked towards his suite. There she was out in the hallway, still dressed up from the night out in the arena with a champagne flume in hand; she was talking with two men in suits that were also drinking. She was being friendly with them, perhaps too friendly.


    "Oh god," she snorted. "That''s just amazing and¡ª"


    "What the fuck, Jenna?" Will jerked her by the elbow.


    "What?" she asked, tugging her arm back. "Don''t do that, Will. This is Brett and Sean. Mr. Branch introduced me to them tonight."


    "I don''t care ''bout these poofters," he said. "Had a rough day, let''s go back to the room."


    "I can''t now," she said. "I sang for them tonight in the box and they are talking about having me sing in the arena!"


    "Who the fuck are they to do that?"


    "Well, Mr. Farrington, or Will, can I call you Will?" The one with the slicked back hair reached out his hand.


    "No," he swatted it away with the gauntlet.


    "Anyway, we work with Mr. Branch in talent scouting for the arena and Ms. Passenier here is a marvel, you see¡ª"


    "Fuckin'' hell," William raged. "He''s gotten to you, too, Jenna? It''s one night, one bloody night! He can''t take it all away just like that. I''m William Fucking Farrington! I''m the Champion of the Arena!"


    "What''s wrong with you?" She asked. "Why can''t you be happy for me?"


    "You go suck both of their cocks for all I fuckin'' care." He stormed off, slamming his right fist into the door to his suite, it bursting open. "Like I fuckin'' care."


    Everything was turning red. Everything in the suite reminded him of who he was, who he was supposed to be. The belt that he won on his first night in the arena hung up on the wall. William ripping it down and slamming it onto the table, empty beer bottles clanging and sliding off of the table with a crash. He rummaged around before finding a bottle of scotch, spinning the cap off and taking a mighty pull from it, sitting back into the chair and staring at that belt, at what it meant to him and all that he could lose.


    "Motherfucker," he said.

 18. The Engineer

    Will was a dick, she knew that, even if he had a big heart that he guarded. He was still a dick, but she never figured him for flat out stupid. Yet here she was, inside of her workshop, stewing over how much of an idiot Will was. He had a rough night; she knew that, but she had warned him about getting too comfortable with Branch. Branch didn''t become the ruler of their known wasteland by benevolence, he was the spark that led to this path of destruction. Branch created the powder keg, teased it, then lit it and watched the world burn, only to come back and say that he had all the answers.


    That sort of malevolence was special. It took a certain kind of man to usher in the end of society and then rebuild it as a sympathetic god figure. Jordan Branch was one of the biggest villains in human history, playing world governments and old grievances like a fiddle for his own personal goals. Now whatever they knew was left of the world sat in his ivory tower, hanging on his every word and spending their nights killing what was left of the poor for sport for his group of elite survivors. Vera''s skin crawled at the thought of her being a member of that elite class, even if it wasn''t her choice and that classification was hanging on by a thread now.


    Vera sighed while she routed around on her desk, looking for something to keep her mind occupied. Returning to the suite for some shut eye sounded like a good plan, but walking in on Jenna and Will fucking for the umpteenth time on a night like this just sounded like more of a chore than anything else. It was times like this that she wished she had something to sleep on down here in the basement, her workshop the closest thing to her own room and home. A knock came from her door, Vera cursing under her breath.


    "Will, if that''s you or your little stooge brother, I don''t want to deal with your shit right now," she called.


    Another knock.


    "It''s not funny," she stood up, jerking the door open. "It''s not¡ªoh, wow. I didn''t, uh. Yeah, I''m sorry, you aren''t Will or Stuart."


    "No," TK Gabriel said. "I just had a run in with your boyfriend."


    "Yeah, he''s got a bit of a temper right now and no, he''s not my boyfriend."


    TK just stared at her.


    "I mean, look, do I live with him? Do I sleep with him? Fucked if I know what we are, but he''s usually fucking that ditz Jenna and... Ah, sorry." She felt self-conscious as he stood there without his shirt, blood staining the bandages on his stomach. "You probably had a pretty rough night out there."


    "Something like that," he said.


    "What can I do for you, then?" She motioned for him to come in. "This isn''t much, but this is my workshop."Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "Last night," he said, "you told me you created Farrington''s gauntlet."


    "Oh right, yeah. That''s me, creator of the gauntlet."


    "I need you to make something for me."


    "You need me to make something?" She asked. "I''m not sure what I can do for you. That was just a simple charged up piece of armor, really. I''m an aerospace engineer, I make rockets."


    "That gauntlet does well enough for Farrington."


    "It does, I mean, thank you, but what could I make for you? Do you want a gauntlet of your own?"


    "No," he shook his head. "Shin guards."


    "Shin guards? I mean, doesn''t Bill just have that kind of stuff?"


    "Not the kind that I need, not the kind that keeps me alive."


    "Ohhh," she said. "So you want something with some flair to it."


    "Spikes," he said. "A charge like Farrington''s glove, preferably left leg, although my right leg isn''t bad."


    "I can do that. It should be no problem. I dunno, I''m best at building propulsion systems, but here I am building these weapons and..."


    "So you can do it?"


    "Yeah, I can do it. I''ve got a backup gauntlet that Will never uses. I can just swap the casing and... When do you need it by?"


    "I can wait," he said. "I suspect that I''ll need it sooner rather than later."


    "I guess so. Just... Look, I know that you and Will are going to have to duke it out at some point and he''s a little rough around the edges. I get it, but could you possibly, I don''t know, try not to kill him?"


    "If and when I fight him, he''s going to do everything in his power to kill me."


    "I know, but..."


    "You saw what happened out there tonight. I didn''t want to kill those men. I did everything that I could to save them, but it wasn''t enough. If your friend wants to try to kill me, then that''s his decision. I''m not here to kill anyone, well..." there was an uncomfortable pause. "At least not your friend."


    "I guess that''s the best that you can do," she said. "He''s gonna get himself killed out there and Branch won''t care at all."


    "We are all dead already," he chuckled. "We just haven''t accepted our fate yet."


    "That''s a morose way of looking at our lives. We survived, that''s more than most can say."


    "We died when everyone else did. This here? A fantasy of survival."


    "This is going to be a long night, isn''t it?" She asked, not expecting an answer. "You should go get some rest, you are pretty banged up still."


    He nodded.


    With that, he was out the door, leaving Vera to breathe a sigh of relief. She didn''t mind helping him out considering it was more sticking it to Jordan Branch than anyone else, but she knew she could create the tool that ultimately kills Will, which could be the end of her run in Branch Tower. No matter how much she hoped for a peaceful conclusion, she knew it was fruitless. She was now the creator of weapons, instruments of death used for the unfolding drama inside of Branch''s idyllic society. Branch was the one that fostered the growth of this society, and Vera was the one helping it to thrive.


    What other choice did she have? There was nothing else that someone with her expertise could do in this situation. They weren''t launching anything into space or concerned with flight of any kind anymore. Instead, the concern was survival, of dealing with the steady influx of survivors from the wasteland, looking for redemption at the place that they were told was the last hope for humanity. Those people were then tossed into a pit to fight for their lives and their right to live among the elite, usually it being known that they''d fail. Building weapons was the only thing keeping her going anymore.

 19. The Engineer

    After a few hours at her workbench, Vera leaned back and stared at her latest creation. Without a doubt, it was more sleek than the contraption that Will wore on his hand, but she had a bit more experience with this kind of work now that was bound to happen. The shin guard itself was made of plate steel, lined with padded leather with a few pressure-sensitive buttons on the inside. When it powered on and there was pressure applied, an electrical charge would run through and deliver a shock to who- or whatever was on the receiving end of it. Like he asked, there were a few sharp spikes attached to the front¡ªmetal to ensure that they conduct electricity as well¡ªmaking it quite a mean looking contraption.


    There was only so much work that she could do on it, she told herself, forcing herself to stand up and stretch, a loud yawn escaping from her mouth. It was past time for some sleep, especially after such a strange 24 hours or so. While she had been trying to avoid it, the thought of returning to their suite and dealing with William was low on her list of things to do. Once again, she wished she had somewhere else to lay her head, even if it was just a mattress on the floor in her workshop. With a deep breath, she locked up her workshop and headed towards the elevator. The hallway was quiet, unassuming, but images of the previous night flashed in her head, reminding her of all the horrors that lay beneath the surface at Branch Tower. She walked a little quicker towards the elevator, remembering the dismembered body from the prior night and a chill running down her spine. The elevator felt like it took longer than usual, but after an eternity the "ding" startled her into jumping into it, pressing on her floor and mashing the "close" button.


    Her anxiety was far from lifted, though, when the elevator spat her out on the floor of their suite. Will had been an ass before. This wasn''t anything new, but he had never been so humiliated. She knew a lot about Will, but this was virgin territory and considering how enraged he got over some schlub in the arena getting a few hits on him made him, Gabriel using his ring and defeating the Crusher would definitely have an adverse effect on him. It was late, which meant that everything was quiet on her way to the suite. The keycard slid in; the light turning to green with a click, only for her to open the door to total darkness. Like she had thought, it was late. Hopefully, she could just slip right in and avoid any sort of confrontation.


    "You done fuckin'' ''round, then?" He was drunk. Very drunk.


    "Goddamnit, Will," she said. "You scared me."


    "Oh," the sound of bottles clinking. "I thought you was Jenna."


    "Will," she said, flicking on the light to see him slouched over the table, his kimono hanging wide open. "You are very drunk right now. Where is Jenna?"


    "With Chip or Chad or whatever," he slurred. "Branch''s fellas. She''s gonna be a singer at the arena or sumpin''."


    "Wait, what? Jenna, a singer? Have you ever heard her sing, Will? She''s terrible, even by end-of-the-world standards."


    "Well, she''s gone, innit she?"


    "Did you say Branch got to her?"


    "No," he said. "Well, I dunno. Branch''s people. Buncha arseholes."


    "Okay," she said, taking it all in. "So she''s not here and you haven''t seen her all night?"


    "Jus'' flirting around with those two cunts is all."


    "Shit, I''m sorry, Will. I told you that Branch wasn''t a trustworthy guy. I didn''t think that he''d act this quickly, though. Wow, he''s really losing it."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "He''s losing?" He slammed his fist down. "I''m the one that''s lost."


    "Okay, okay, calm down big guy," she wrapped her arms around his large, sullen shoulders. "C''mon, let''s get you into bed already and get you on your side so you don''t choke on your own vomit or something."


    "Oh, fuck off already."


    "Take it to bed, Will," she admonished the brute. He shrugged and stumbled to his feet, letting her help guide him to bed. "We''ll talk more in the morning, but things aren''t looking too good right now. We need a plan."


    "A plan, here? We''re fucked!"


    "Just lay down." She pushed him down onto the mattress, his body bouncing before his head hit the pillow. It wasn''t long before the rumbling of his snores filled the room. There had to be a way to outsmart Branch at his own game, but she wasn''t sure how deep his deception went. Jenna was, if anything, a "gift" from Jordan for Will in the first place, so her being snatched away made sense. As annoying as Vera found Jenna, though, she would miss her if she didn''t come back. Vera suspected Jenna would find her way back to Will, this being more of a show of power by Branch, and that he could easily take everything away in the blink of the eye. This was Branch showing that he was still in control.


    Vera sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his gauntlet that laid on the floor, power pack next to it. She kneeled down and checked the charge on it, showing it to be almost empty. He must have been sitting there all night, leaving it on, stewing, drinking himself into a stupor, and thinking about knocking someone''s head off. If Branch kept playing these games, the chances of Will lasting much longer were almost nil; he was going to break, and he was going to break soon. There was just no way of knowing when it would be. She picked up the gauntlet and sighed, knowing that she had to go lock it up and charge it, keeping it well away from a drunken, wounded puppy that was Will.


    She was exhausted, but she knew that Will, with access to weapons, booze, and his thoughts, could only mean bad things. In fact, they were lucky that nobody ended up dead already. It was back to the basement, back to the workshop with her, even though she was feeling rather foggy herself. The elevator was once again crawling, which she just chalked up to her impatience. The trip down was fine, until the door zipped open and she found herself face-to-face with Jordan Branch, along with his goons, Stuart and Viktor, in tow. She groaned, and Stuart shot her a look, his eyes widening.


    "Oh," she said, looking away. "Excuse me."


    "Vera, isn''t it?" Branch asked.


    "Um, yes," she said, trying to force a smile at him. "Sorry, Mr. Branch, I was just returning this to my workshop is all..."


    "Why, no problem at all," he said. "We were just working on a few things down here ourselves, burning the midnight oil, as I see that you are doing as well. By the way, how is old Will doing?"


    "Tired," she said. "He''s fine, just a little tipsy is all."


    "That''s good." The smile he bore resembled that of a reptile, not a man. "I heard his lovely girl Jenna sing tonight. There really is a future for that one, I believe. Shame, though, she truly seems attached to you two."


    "She''s a good kid. I''d hate to see anything happen to her, Mr. Branch."


    "Oh, as would I. She told me about Will''s temper, although she downplayed it a bit. She''s very talented, you know, those lips of hers could drive a man wild."


    "So I''ve heard." She was still pinned in the elevator, Viktor''s foot planted in front of the door, keeping it open.


    "We have a responsibility here at Branch Tower to make the best use of our resources we have at our disposal. While her companionship to Mr. Farrington is quite useful, I''m afraid there might be better ways to utilize her talents. Speaking of," he looked down at her hands, "you created Mr. Farrington''s, erm, contraption, did you not?"


    "Correct," she said, waiting for the inevitable.


    "Quite fascinating. In fact, Stuart here was just explaining that to me. I had thought Mr. Harrison¡ªyou know him as Bill, I presume¡ªhad worked on it, but no, Stuart explained your talents to me."


    "Just doing my part." She shot a glance at Stuart, who turned away from her. "I wanted to help Will, is all."


    "You were an engineer of some sort, correct? That took some ingenuity."


    "Yes, well, not mechanical or anything like that, aerospace. Not much use for that here, I suppose."


    "I suppose not," he said, tapping at his chin. "Although you have adapted these talents well. Maybe we should utilize these talents better, don''t you think? I''d hate to think of one of the premier minds of our troubled time wasting away as a simple fucktoy for some brute, eh?"


    "With all due respect, sir." Rage bubbled up in her. "I''m nobody''s ''fucktoy,'' I''m the one keeping him alive out there. Jenna was the¡­ what you''d call ''fucktoy'' that you gave to him. I came with him. Stuart can vouch for that."


    "Ya," he said. "This''uns mighty vicious, sir."


    "Fascinating."

 20. The Doctor

    Walking back to the suite, she had almost entirely forgotten about poor little Elsie, which made her pace quicken. There had been so much going on that she had lost herself in the madness. Everyone within Branch''s realm had succumbed to the visceral games that he played for them, but even having lived in what she had considered Hell itself after the fall, this was more grotesque and she was playing a part in the whole, sick perversion. Tom had survived, which was good, but Branch was not pleased with his performance, and there was no way of knowing how he''d handle such a public display. Dr. Faraday wanted herself and Elsie to be invisible, to be outside of his reach, but somehow leaving seemed like it was outside of their reach.


    Throughout her brief stay at Branch Tower, there had been no departures outside of the dead. That troubled her and raised some serious questions that she knew better than to go around asking about in public. Stuart had seemed like an alright boy; a bit twisted and demented, but there was still something left alive inside of him beneath that shell of violent fantasies. When the elevator gave the ding for her floor, she squeezed herself out from the two couples that were inside; they were still going up a few floors, and it showed in their clothing, demeanor and conversation that she had been tuning out.


    The floor that Elsie and herself were on seemed posh enough, but this lot were clearly a cut above a lowly doctor and were a part of Branch''s elite upper-floor dwellers, far beyond those that had to work for a living to earn their keep in his madhouse. She fumbled in her pocket for her key card, thinking about poor Elsie, trapped inside of that room all day with no one to talk to. She would have to put on a brave face for her after what she witnessed throughout the day, but that poor girl had been through so much all that she needed was for Dr. Faraday to be there for her. That''s it.


    With the keycard now in hand, she jammed it into the locking mechanism, waiting for the light to turn green when she heard a man''s voice from the inside, followed by the unmistakable sound of Elsie''s squeal. Her stomach dropped and her heart raced; something was wrong, something was very wrong. What was she thinking, leaving that poor girl alone in this house of horrors? With the green light staring up at her, she scanned the hallway, looking for something¡ªanything¡ªthat she could use as a weapon to help fend off whatever was attacking poor Elsie. The only thing that was in view was a cart with a meal tray with a lid. The lid was too clumsy, so she grabbed the embossed-metal tray and clutching it in both hands while she nudged the door open. Elsie''s screech rang out again, this time louder, hardening Dr. Faraday''s resolve while she pushed through the heavy door and charged into the room with the tray at the ready.


    "You get your hands off of..." She paused at the scene before her, dropping the tray and feeling the tears welling up in her eyes.


    "Ya okay, doc?" Stuart looked up at her from his seat at the small table, a smattering of playing cards laid out on it with Elsie sitting across from him in the other chair with a pillow underneath her, a big smile on her face.


    "Elsie, my god," she cradled the girl in her arms. "I thought that something was wrong."


    "Oh no, Auntie Ruth, Stuart was just playing Go Fish with me. I''m winning."


    "Ya, the brat here''s cleaning me out. ''Fraid she might be cheatin'', ya see," he reached over and tickled the girl, her screeching out again before swatting his hand away.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "This is how he tries to beat me, Auntie Ruth. He knows he can''t beat me fair and square, that''s why."


    "Oh yes, my dear, you sure are good at that, aren''t you?" She motioned to Stuart. "Dearie, would you excuse us for a minute?"


    "Mhm," she mumbled, staring at the cards before her.


    "Ya better not be cheain''," Stuart snarled. "I got my eye on you."


    "Uh huh, sure you do," she said, sticking her tongue out when he turned his back to her.


    "What''s the matter?" Stuart asked.


    "I just, well, I wasn''t expecting you to be here is all, but I appreciate it. Shouldn''t you be with Branch?"


    "Eh, VD has been takin'' care of things for me today. I figured you were down there helpin'' my boys out as best ya could. Someone had to look after the girlie here."


    "I appreciate it. Just don''t know what to say. I didn''t take you for the type, is all."


    "Just becoz a guy knows his way ''round a gun don''t mean that he don''t care ''bout ''lil ones."


    "Oh no, I wasn''t implying anything, I just¡­" She embraced him and whispered, "thank you so much. Thank you, really. Thank you."


    "Oh jeez," he pulled away, brushing off his jersey. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. My brother is right upset I reckon, gotta smooth shit out with ''em before he goes mental."


    "Oh, right, TK with his ring and all of that."


    "Ya saw it? I didn''t, I just heard on my walkie here."


    "I did," she said. There would be no shaking what she had seen in the arena that day from her mind. "Quite the scene."


    "Things are ''bout ta get ugly in a hurry, let me tell you. Branch doesn''t enjoy being shown up by no one, especially not some fancy Hollywood type. My brother? He''s gonna be crazy for a few days. This is all bad, terrible. I dunno what Branch is gonna do, but I''ll try to remind ''em that ya helped out and weren''t a part of Gabriel''s shit."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Boss has a tendency to make some.... extreme decisions. If I were ya I would run, but no way they''ll let ya outta here like that, not after today, damned straight."


    "What do you mean, we are prisoners here?"


    "No, I mean¡­" He paused, deep in thought for a moment. "I don''t know, but if I were you, I wouldn''t try ta leave."


    "Okay, but what about Tom?"


    "If I were him, I''d get the fuck outta here and not look back, but he''s gotta escape first, which ain''t easy, let me tell you."


    "Someone has to tell him."


    "It won''t be me," he said, holding his hands up. "I''m stayin'' outta this. Me? I''m here to survive, along with my brother, nothing else. You focus on yourself and the girlie there. Stay outta it. He''s a big boy, and he dug his own grave. You two still got a life here."


    "I suppose we do."


    "Ya do. I want nothing happenin'' to her, ya hear?"


    "Yes, I know."


    "Don¡¯t worry. I''ll be back in the mornin''. Hopefully everything will be alright. Holler if you need anything."


    With that, he was gone, leaving her feeling more uneasy than she had when she entered the room, thinking that someone was attacking Elsie. That boy had a good heart, which struck her more and more with each interaction. In a way, it gave her hope for the future. He seemed like a cold-hearted killer, but there was more to him, much more. That was important to remember in a world that had frozen over with fear and hatred; there were still good people there, beneath the surface. They all wanted to survive, to forge their own paths, but were continual victims of circumstance. He was just as much a prisoner as they were in the tower. He just had a job that afforded him more freedom than the rest.


    Elsie was still at the table, fiddling with the cards. Dr. Faraday sat down across from her and looked over at the girl, who looked so innocent and sweet. She had to keep it together for Elsie.


    "Auntie Ruth," Elsie said. "Where did Stuart go?"


    "Oh, he had some work to do, sweetie. How about I take over for him?"


    "Okay, let''s reshuffle and start fresh, then."


    "Let''s do that. Did you have a good day with Stuart?"


    "Oh yeah, Auntie Ruth. We played cards, watched a movie, and had lunch together. It was fun!"


    "Good, good," she said, trying to keep her composure.

 21. The Doctor

    A sharp knock at the door stirred her from her slumber, but it didn''t seem like morning yet. She looked around the room in a stupor to see that it was only 3am, taking the briefest of moments to contemplate how ridiculous it was that they were still keeping time after the fallen of humanity, before she remembered what had woken her up; the door. Elsie was fast asleep, but the knock came again. With a sense of resignation, she picked herself up and rummaged around for something to carry with her, finding the discarded tray she had charged into the room with before and picking it up yet again. The view through the peephole took her off guard¡ªTom was standing there, fully decked out.


    "Tom," she whispered, opening the door, "you half-scared me to death. We''re sleeping. What are you doing?"


    "Getting out of here," he said. His eyes scanned the hallway, and he kept his voice low¡ªlower than usual. "C''mon."


    "What? Are you kidding? Stuart told us that..."


    "Stuart is one of Branch''s toadies. He can''t be trusted. We need to go. Now."


    "If we run, they''ll chase us, though," she said. Stuart told her to stay and that he could try to protect them, but she knew that right answer was for Tom to go.


    "We don''t know that."


    "Stuart told me they would, that we are prisoners. He said that he could protect Elsie and I, but for you... Well, he said that you should try to run."


    TK paused, swallowing hard.


    "I know that this isn''t ideal, but I think we should stay. For now."


    "There''s no later, doc. It''s now or never. I''m leaving. You can come with me, but I understand if you don''t want to."


    "It''s not that I don''t want to, it''s Elsie. Tom, the girl has seen enough. What are we going to do, hitch onto the back of your bike and hold on for dear life while we run from this place? Then where to? There''s nowhere else to go. This place isn''t ideal, no, but until we have a plan, I''m afraid of what will happen out there."


    "Be afraid of what will happen here."


    "I just... Tom, thank you for everything. Please, if you find something, come back for us. Please?"


    He nodded and turned his back without saying goodbye, striding down the hallway until he rounded the corner for the elevators. Like that, he was gone, just as unceremoniously as he had entered her life. There he was, leaving it. She didn''t want to think this encounter would be the last she saw of him, but something about it felt final. His words nagged at her. This was a terrible, terrible place full of terrible, terrible people and he needed to run. But she felt so helpless, so trapped and alone.


    There she was, trying to find a way to keep herself and Elsie safe, but it felt wrong to stay and let Tom run off on his own. What Stuart said echoed in her mind; he said it was best for Tom to run, but if Stuart thought that, who else did? Would they be prepared for him to run, or would he be able to escape without incident? None of it made sense anymore, and she thought in circles. There wasn''t a right or wrong answer anymore, just shades of gray, like the ones that existed in this strange new world that Branch had created.


    Trying to fall back asleep was difficult for her. That had been one of the most difficult and long days in her already long life. The worse thing was that the day had refused to end. Instead, it was limping along as a knot balled up inside of her stomach, thinking about Tom making his run from the compound. She pulled one chair over towards the window that looked out over the vast nothingness of the wasteland, noting a few stray campfires off in the distance, but mostly it was drowned out by the giant, neon BRANCH sign that hung from the top of the building like a great beaming lighthouse alerting the wasteland they were there and it was looking for new victims to suck into its vortex.


    Before long, the red lights flashing below caught her eye, rousing her from her thoughts and into the scene happening below. There, a lone red light darted off towards the horizon, kicking up dust in its wake. It could have been loud, but she couldn''t tell thanks to the soundproof windows that helped to encapsulate the entirety of Branch Tower. Those windows were strong enough to have kept the building from toppling like the rest did when the bombs had dropped and were strong enough to keep the radiation out, making them modern marvels of engineering in a world that barely remembered the very concept of engineering.


    It wasn''t over five minutes later when more sets of red lights emerged from beneath the building, this time many and in a hurry. Vehicles, at least a dozen of them, were charging out from Branch Tower at escape velocity, kicking up dust and kipple in their wake, furiously heading in the direction that the other red light had headed off in. Her stomach dropped when she realized what was happening; Tom had made his great escape, and this was Branch''s goons hot on his tail.


    "Run, Tom," she muttered under her breath, knowing that he couldn''t hear her, but saying it for her own sense of sanity. "Run."


    After what felt like an eternity, she saw the return of the lights from Branch''s convoy. They were all larger vehicles, although she couldn''t make out much about them. She had to know what had happened out there, and she wasn''t about to sit around and wait to find out. There were a few of the more banged-up combatants down at Handsome Bill''s still, while she had left specific instructions with the few men that were looking after them, she could have an excuse to go down to the basement and see what more she could find out.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The ride in the elevator down to the basement dragged on like the rest of the day had. Luckily for her, the hallways were empty. Not even the guards were around. That was a good thing. Stuart had told her he''d try to keep anything from blowing back against her and Elsie, and thus far it seemed that he had kept his word. She could come and go as she pleased, it seemed. She just had to try to not get in the way. The basement was still outside of the occasional guard or two that was milling around. They paid her no mind, though. Instead, they were engaged in heated conversations she could not eavesdrop on for too long before rousing suspicions.


    She walked through the hallway towards the garage, only to see a woman emerging from one of the many doors, letting out an enormous yawn while locking the door behind her. She was average height, with a bit darker skin and disheveled brown hair. She was curvier than the average woman, but not heavy. What did Dr. Faraday know, anyway? She was essentially skin-and-bones now, but she was prior to the fall as well. She gave the woman a warm smile, which she returned only to pause.


    "Hi," the woman said, looking tired.


    "Hi," Dr. Faraday returned, stopping herself and offering her hand. "I''m Ruth, Ruth Faraday."


    "Oh, the new doctor?"


    "Yes, that''s me, Dr. Ruth Faraday. I was just heading over to check on a few of the patients over at what''s his name''s, Bill?"


    "Uh huh, Handsome Bill, he calls himself, but he looks more like an overripe tomato about ready to pop."


    "Oh my," Dr. Faraday caught herself laughing. "That''s too much. And you are?"


    "Ugh, I''m sorry, I''m so tired, was just working on a project in there. I''m Vera Maia."


    "So nice to meet you, Vera. I just couldn''t sleep, such a strange day and all, so I checked on my patients."


    "You definitely are new here," she smiled.


    "Why do you say that?"


    "This day isn''t unlike any of the rest here at Branch Tower. Madness, megalomania and giant monsters rampaging through the arena are all a part of this place''s charm, I suppose."


    "You don''t say."


    "Let me walk with you over to Bill''s. Some of these guards can be kind of a pain in the ass sometimes."


    "I appreciate that," she said, "I''ve only been through here twice now, still don''t really know my way."


    "Yeah, trust me, you''ll get used to it in a hurry. I didn''t think I would, but here I am, with my workshop down here and I spend a lot of my nights here, avoiding Will."


    "Will, you don''t mean Bill, do you?"


    "Oh god no," she chuckled. "No, no, no. I mean Will Farrington."


    "The brute with the exploding punch?"


    "That''s my Will."


    "I''m sorry, I didn''t know that you were... with him?"


    "I don''t know that I am. He and his brother helped me out of a jam out in the wasteland and we ended up here. I guess that I''m sort of with him, sort of not, I don''t know. He has a girlfriend, but we all live together. Yeah, it''s weird."


    "Whatever comfort you can find out here."


    "I guess so," she said, while they approached a throng of guards standing by the entrance to the parking structure.


    "What''s going on here?" Dr. Faraday asked. "I saw a bunch of vehicles dart out earlier, then saw them return. What happened?"


    "I don''t know, but we can find out," Vera replied, "hey, guys, what''s the big deal?"


    "That asshole Gabriel darted off, but Branch sent the Road Hoggs after him. They messed him up reaaal good," the guard said. "They''re dragging him from the truck now."


    Dr. Faraday pushed forward, Vera trying to tug her back, "No, don''t get too close."


    "I know him," she whispered. "He''s my friend, he saved me."


    "You can''t do anything for him right now."


    So there they stood, at the chain-link fence that looked out into the structure among the group of armed guards, watching as TK Gabriel was dragged from the souped up, derelict truck by two men in spiked leather armor, spilling him onto the concrete like he was a sack of dirt, blood spilling from his mouth.


    "Fuck you," Tom spat up at one of them, only for the man to wipe his face off and plant the toe of his boot into Tom''s ribs, knocking the air out of him.


    "Think that yer real tough, don''t ya?"


    A mighty roar emerged from the vehicle behind it, the gigantic doors swinging open while men led the beast that was the Crusher out from the vehicle. Dr. Faraday felt the breath evacuate her body while she stood just mere feet away from the giant thing. He was bigger than she expected him to be, much more imposing, yet the look on his face was placid and docile.


    Vera turned away, a look of disgust on her face. But Dr. Faraday was so mesmerized by the entire scene while poor Tom lay on the ground, spitting up blood and grunting in his leathers. A hush came over the chatty guards when the clicking of heels bounced off of the concrete walls. There was Jordan Branch, in his neatly tailored suit with his immaculate hair waltzing towards the scene. He pat the man with the spiked armor on one of the few safe spots on his back with a gloved hand, looking like he was concerned about catching whatever germs the man could be carrying.


    "Bravo, Edward. You and your boys handled this all splendidly."


    "It was that damned Crusher that nailed ''em. I lost five of my men and one of my pursuit vehicles to this fucker," he spat on Tom. "Whatever you done to this big fucker, it worked. He obeyed, just like you said."


    "Quite so," Branch grinned, watching while they led Crusher away. "Oh, what my friend has become."


    "Fuck you," Tom managed again, this time towards Branch, who tsked and crouched down, cradling Tom''s head in his gloved-hand like a disappointed father.


    "Oh Mr. Gabriel," he shook his head. "Foolishly, you made a gamble with your life; that gamble was that you could escape from Branch Tower after insulting me, your patient host. All of that after you thought you had defeated the Crusher? We have plans for you, Mr. Gabriel. We have plans indeed. Do you have anything to say for yourself, leaving without even telling me? Raiding my armory without my permission. You came to me." He was seething, the calm veneer wearing off momentarily before he caught himself, took a deep breath and continued. "You came to me and now you''ve taken advantage of my hospitality. You will not like what happens next. Oh no, you will not."


    Tom spat in Branch''s face, a smattering of red adorning Branch''s pristine smile. Branch picked himself up and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, unfurling it with a theatrical flair before wiping off his face. He turned to the man that he had called Edward and nodded down at Tom. "Take him to the lockup. He can rot alongside the Crusher until we decide what to do with him. Stuart?"


    "Ya boss?" Stuart''s familiar, frog-like voice came from off to the side, him emerging with a gun slung over his shoulder.


    "Have them incinerate this suit and have a new one prepared, won''t you?"


    "Right away," Stuart strode towards the hallway, his face going pale white when he saw Dr. Faraday. They made quick eye contact before she looked away in shame, knowing that she was somewhere that she probably wasn''t supposed to see and had witnessed something unfit for her eyes. "Doc, what the rotting hell are ya doing here. Vera¡ªyou shoulda known better."


    "Sorry, Stu, she was just going to check on her patients and..."


    "No sorries," he ushered them back towards the hallway. "You two need to get out of here. Vera, get her back to her room before Branch sees her and remembers who the fuck she is."


    "I''m so sorry, Stuart," Dr. Faraday said. "I just..."


    "Go!"

 22. The Brawler

    The world was on fire, Will''s head feeling like someone had struck him with an axe and cleaved him in half. The lone act of picking up his head from the pillow felt like the greatest accomplishment known to man. There was a very good chance that Will had drank not only a bit too much, but a lot of too much the prior night, to the point where he couldn''t even remember what had happened. He peeled himself up off of his sheets slowly, making sure not to move too quickly while it felt like there were a ton of loose nails rattling around inside of his skull. There was an argument. He remembered that much. Vera was pissed off with him and Jenna, poor Jenna, she was... Much to his astonishment, when he turned around he found Jenna laying sprawled out on the bed.


    How much of the previous night had he imagined? Will reached out and shook her gently. "Jenna," he said. "Jenna, wake up."


    "Whaa?" she yawned.


    "You buggered off last night, or am I crazy?"


    "I was just talking." She rolled onto her back. "We just talked about my singing, is all. They told me I should go back home later on and here I am."


    "Fuckin'' hell," he said. "So they weren''t.... trying to steal you away?"


    "From you? Of course not. Can I go back to sleep, Will? I''m tired."


    "Course, darling," he said. "Imma go scare up some caf."


    She sunk back down into the sea of pillows and blankets, her hair flowing down over her face, while William stumbled out the door of their suite. There should be coffee brewing down the hall somewhere, at least in the lounge. Might even be able to scare up some pain killers as well, hopefully. He wasn''t overly hungry, but he knew that some greasy food would do him well after such a mind fuck of a night. The bright lights of the hallway were blinding, Will stumbling past different groups of people and groaning an incoherent greeting towards them whenever they stared at him. They knew who the fuck he was. Fuck whatever TK Gabriel did in the arena, William Farrington would show him up and he''d do it soon.


    "Christ, you look awful," Vera''s voice greeted him, along with the aroma of coffee and eggs.


    "Fuckin'' hell," he grumbled. "I need some caf."


    "You need a lot more than that," Vera said. She poured some coffee into a mug and presented it to him, then helping him into a chair before grabbing a plate and slopping a few spoonfuls of eggs and hash browns onto it.


    "Thanks, doll," he grumbled.


    "Want to talk about last night?"


    "No," he said in between heaping mouthfuls. They sat quietly while Will continued to shovel eggs and hash into his mouth, taking big gulps of coffee. Vera was staring out the window, looking more distracted than he had seen her in a long time. He had said some things to her last night that he shouldn''t have. She made a lot of sense sometimes, but then again, Jenna came back. He had his suspicions about Branch, but he continued to be on Branch''s good side and was still the champion of the arena. "I''m still the champion, you know. No poofter can take that yet."


    "I guess not, Will."


    "Jenna came back."


    "I saw," she said.


    "So, Branch didn''t steal nothing away, nothing to worry about, innit?"


    "Not really."


    "What now?"


    "C''mon, Will, wake up," she slapped him on the head, the impact from the blow shaking loose what felt like tiny glass shards to rattle around inside of his skull. "Branch and his two henchmen found me out last night after I left the suite, cornered me and Branch did his whole creepy ''oh you are special'' act to me."


    "Cocksucker."


    "Yeah. He gave me the whole pitch, how brilliant and underutilized I was. Luckily midway through the sales pitch he got called away, some sort of emergency, an escape or something."


    "But Jenna was in this morning, I don''t get it..."Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he''s just trying to scare you? But Will, I wouldn''t trust him. Neither of us are safe."


    "Aye, I hear ya, alright," he said.


    "Brother," Stuart was standing in the doorway.


    "Fuckin'' hell, ya botherin'' my Vera last night?"


    "Yeah, yeah," Stuart said. "Branch wants to see you."


    "After trying to poach both my women?"


    "Shit went down," Stuart said. "His office, c''mon."


    "Pain in my arse."


    There was only a one level disparity between William and Branch''s penthouse, but the few times he had been up there had always blown him away. Branch made sure that everyone on the floor beneath him¡ªthe best of the best¡ªwere taken care of. I mean, waking up, sauntering down the hall, and getting some quality grub was a sweet deal, as were his suite and all the other perks that came with it. The thing is, Branch lived like a king up on the top floor of the Tower. They restricted elevator access to that penthouse to only those with the key for it, Stuart of course being one of the few to have it. Upon entering his realm, there were many plants all around, the sun beaming down through the skylights and even the smell differed from the rest of the Tower.


    Everything about it screamed lavish, but Will couldn''t help but always feel blown away by it. He wasn''t jealous of it, he just wanted to find himself in that position someday, to be the guy at the top of the tall tower with access to any and everything. Two drop-dead gorgeous women in neon bikinis walked by, leaving behind a trail of petite, wet footprints, tracking them from the pool behind them. They stopped at a few of the lounge chairs that had direct sunlight and Will had to pry himself away from the sight, Stuart grumbling to him to not keep Branch waiting. This was how Branch lived his life; it was like nothing had ever happened, or even yet, something happened, but Branch grew more powerful from it. The thought had crossed his mind before that Branch did sort of benefit from the known world ending, but it was an unthinkable thought that someone would unleash this sort of hell on humanity for personal gain.


    "Well, if it isn''t my old friend, Will," Branch said, hand outstretched.


    "Sorry, boss," Will said. "I''m a little worse for wear, hair o'' the dog an'' all that."


    "I understand, don''t you fret, my friend."


    "So what''s so urgent?"


    "I''m sure that you saw what unfolded last night. Quite an event, wasn''t it? TK Gabriel using your ring and in a way overcoming the Crusher. Everyone is talking about it."


    "Yeah, that cunt."


    "As I''m sure you are aware, the Crusher survived, though. TK Gabriel didn''t quite win then, did he? In fact, that is how the arena works, is it not? You fight for your life and you win by taking life, correct?"


    "Yessim," he was wondering where this was going.


    "There was only one fight left for you out there before Gabriel arrived. I think that we''d both agree on that."


    "I guess so," Will said. "Crusher seemed outta reach to me, innit?"


    "Yes, and no. Come come, Will, you are the Champion of the Arena! You are the man who helped to bring order to the wasteland! Don''t doubt yourself so. Oh, silly me, Stuart, get your brother a drink."


    "Aight boss," Stuart rummaged through the liquor cabinet in Branch''s wood-and-golden decorated office.


    "So you think I can beat him?"


    "I don''t think," Branch said. "I know you can defeat the Crusher."


    "Well fuck. I dunno about all that."


    "No, see, you don''t understand what I''m saying. You go out there and fight the Crusher and I''ll assure you that you''ll be the victor in that fight."


    "You think I can kill the Crusher?"


    "Oh please. You won''t have to. If TK Gabriel has become this benevolent figure by sparing¡ªor at least trying to spare lives¡ªthen you, my friend, can have the Crusher on the brink of destruction only to let him live."


    "I still don''t understand..."


    "That metal chassis that Gabriel kicked last night? You remember that?"


    "Ya."


    "That was a new device that we''ve been working on. The Crusher has been an instrument of chaos. The only control that we''ve ever had has been through tasers and brute force. In that way, he has been a failure of an experiment. But that device has helped us to control him."


    "Dear fuck," he murmured. "You aren''t saying?"


    "Absolutely," Branch said. "I have full control over the Crusher now. He is no longer an instrument of chaos. He is the hand that I can use to crush those that oppose me and to strike fear into the hearts of those who believe me to be wrong."


    Branch''s sadistic smile caught Will off guard, him taking the glass of brandy from his brother and gulping it all down while it burned his throat. There was a certain sense of pride in what Will had accomplished out there in the arena. He had won all of his fights fair and square; he had made a name for himself by being the toughest man in the wasteland. Never had he imagined having a fight thrown, but then again, what could the harm in it be?


    "Well fuck," Will said. "Let''s do this shit. Show that poofter Gabriel who''s in charge here."


    "Good," Branch said. "Good. Good."


    "When do I get to fight him, by the way?"


    "That I''m not sure of," he said. "We had some... complications with Mr. Gabriel late last night and he''s in a holding cell."


    "No shit? What''d that bugger try to do?"


    "Leave with some of my property."


    "What an arse. So what does that mean?"


    "For now, nothing. We let him cool off a bit, but his life now hangs in the balance of the arena and the arena alone. That''s the only way he''s seeing the outside of that cell."


    "I''d be happy to put a poundin'' on him out there. In fact, I''d fancy it."


    "I know you would, my dear friend, but that will have to wait for now. First, you destroy the Crusher, agreed?"


    "Aye."


    "Oh, and... That Vera of yours? She''s quite the gal."

 23. The Brawler

    "What the fuck did he mean by that?" Will stood, arms crossed, in Vera''s office while she sat at her desk, welding goggles perched on her head. "Quite the gal?"


    "I told you not to trust him, Will."


    "This isn''t about trust, I just, what the fuck did he mean?"


    "I was talking to you about this before. Branch and his two cronies cornered me last night before they ran off. Just like he had gotten to Jenna, he was trying to get to me. You''ve gotta smarten up. Whatever plans he has for you, they aren''t what they seem to be."


    "Bollocks," he said.


    "That''s what you think, but c''mon, Will. Think for once. He wants to get into your head, he wants control over you. That is what this is all about; control."


    "Oh, bugger off¡ª"


    "No, Will. He wants to control you. Do you know why he hates TK Gabriel?"


    "Because he''s a cunt?"


    "No, dumbass, it''s because he can ''t control TK Gabriel. He brought him into this little idyllic society as another of his puppets. TK Gabriel, Movie Star was a win for him. That was a show of his power, and Gabriel slighted him in front of everyone. Twice. Control, Will."


    "Did you hear that poofter Gabriel tried to steal something from Branch last night and run off with it? What an idiot. He''s down in a cell by Crusher now in the dungeon, I suppose."


    "Guess he''ll be needing this sooner rather than later, then," she picked up a metal contraption from her desk and inspected it.


    "What in bloody hell is that?"


    "Oh, he asked me to make him this shin guard the other night to use in the arena."


    "So now you are making doodads for every bloke that stops by? What''s next? Giving him a wank?"


    "Oh fuck off, Will," she said.


    "I don''t know what the bloody fuck you do down here at all hours. Who else you been fuckin'' down here? Do I even not want to know?"This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "I''m not fucking anybody, you doofus. You don''t control me, anyway, I can do whatever and whoever the hell I want."


    "Oh, well, I guess I can tell Branch that you don''t need to live with me no more, see what happens to you then. You''ll be zombie bait in no time, I figure."


    "That''s what you want, then? You want me to be turned into some toy for Branch to play with until he''s bored with me and tosses me to his dogs? Get the fuck out of here, Will. I try with you, I truly try, but you drink yourself into a blind stupor night-in and night-out, you pull the blinders over your eyes for another blowjob from Jenna and you can''t see what is going on."


    "I can see what this is. Oh I see this, ya cunt."


    "I''ve done nothing but help you, yet somehow you can''t see that. You can''t see what Branch is doing. It''s right in front of your face. Damnit, Will."


    "Damnit, woman. I don''t want to fight right now. I have a splittin'' cocksuckin'' headache right now."


    "You need to trust me, then. It''s as simple as that. Both of our lives are on the line here, maybe even Jenna''s."


    "I guess so..."


    "What does Branch want you to do? This is very important."


    "To beat Crusher in the arena."


    "Poor Demoreo," she said. "Is that even possible at this point?"


    "Don''t poor anything, he''s a big fucker, innit he? I can beat ''em, Branch even said there is some mind control doodad in his skull that''ll let me win."


    "They''re controlling his mind now?"


    "Yessim," he said.


    "How is that even possible?"


    "How the fuck do I know? He just told me I can beat ''em, that''s all."


    "My god, he is a madman. Then what?"


    "What?"


    "Can you retire then? Have you earned your spot here permanently yet?"


    "Not exactly, no..."


    "What do you mean, not exactly?"


    "I dunno, I think he wants me to take out that Gabriel cunt as well."


    "And you are going to do it?"


    "I don¡¯t have much choice, do I?"


    "That''s the problem, though, isn''t it? Or are you not seeing that? You don''t have a choice in any of this."


    "It was our bloody choice to come here."


    "And everything since then has been at the whim of Jordan Branch."


    "So what, it''s his tower, innit?"


    "Then can we leave, go find somewhere else to stay?"


    "Why would we want to?" He was losing his patience. His head was throbbing and she wouldn''t just come out with her point already. He knew Branch wasn''t on the up-and-up with him always, but remembering back to the vast nothingness, the raiders, the undead, well, that wasn''t the kind of place he set out into hoping to find a new home. Branch Tower felt like the only thing going, even if it was fucked up.


    "I don''t know, because Jordan Branch won''t be there experimenting on people, feeding others to monsters and making people kill each other for his own sick enjoyment?"


    "This ain''t an ideal world, this ain''t an ideal anything and¡ª"


    "Stop making excuses, Will."


    "Fuck it, Imma lay down."

 24. The Engineer

    Will had stomped off, a blubbering, angry mess of a man, leaving Vera to her thoughts alone in her workshop. Will wasn''t a bad guy, but she felt like she kept having to make excuses for being around him. If everything wasn''t all fucked up out in the world, the chances of her even being around someone like Will were close to zero. He was so very far from the type of person who she''d associate with. It wouldn''t even be a consideration. Things had changed, though. There was no room to be picky. He was a good guy, deep down beneath all the posturing, hair and booze, even if he didn''t want to admit it.


    Vera''s thoughts drifted off to Demoreo and TK down in those cells. Demoreo was less and less himself over the past few months, to the point where she couldn''t bring herself to visit him anymore. She had stumbled across his holding cell one night, maybe three months back, when she was looking around the basement for some copper wire. Stuart had told her that there should be some down in the labs, but in retrospect he was probably hoping that she''d get scared by Demoreo, the beast that they had called the Crusher, as some sort of sick joke. Stuart was like that. None of them saw him as a human being anymore, just a monster for whatever they had in store for him, but she had seen the humanity left in him, even if it was diminishing each day.


    Was he a monster? At least in appearance, yes. His survival also hinged on eating the flesh of the living, something to do with all the chemicals that were pumped into him, changing the fundamental chemical makeup of his body and its needs for survival. She wished she had understood bioengineering better, having only a cursory understanding of the basics of it from the one class she took in college, but it wasn''t enough to help him. At the time, she thought it was exciting, but that there wouldn''t be much of a future in it, so it was just another detour into another of the branches of science on her road to shooting things off into space.


    Thinking about Demoreo, it was difficult not to sigh. He embodied all that was wrong with the world and how she had squandered her life, working hard and studying all for nothing. All of those years studying hard, ignoring the outside world and being solely focused on being the best in her college felt like a waste now. Nobody was shooting rockets anywhere. Instead, her skills were merely ornamental, used for making makeshift weapons for men to kill each other for other men''s and women¡¯s entertainment. It was still early enough in the day for Vera to make her way to the lab with no one else being there. Well, Demoreo wasn''t held in the lab, more in a cell behind it that had its own access and everything. She snatched up the shin guard she had made for TK just in case, as well.


    She used the back door to enter, wanting to avoid the labs just in case there was someone in there working late. While it wasn''t exactly off-limits to her, she didn''t want any trouble for showing up in Branch''s lab, or to have to with anyone else. Will kind of drained her in that way. The heavy iron door creaked open, unveiling the dimly lit room with a cell on either wall to her left and right. Demoreo was on the right, like he usually was, only he was sitting there staring off into space without making much of a sound. In the other cell was TK Gabriel, laying back on the cot with his jacket over his face.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Demoreo," she said, holding onto the bars of his cell. "Demoreo, it''s me, Vera. Are you in there?"


    Crusher just grunted and looked over at her.


    "Demoreo, c''mon," she looked down at his head, the metal pieces jutting out from it. They had implanted something in there, alright, and they hadn''t done a great job of it, either. Whatever it was, it looked to be some sloppy work. Then again, this was the apocalypse. The scientific method wasn''t at the forefront of everyone''s minds.


    "Who''s Demoreo?" Gabriel''s voice made her jump a little.


    "What? Oh god," she said. "You scared the shit out of me."


    "Sorry."


    "This is Demoreo."


    "Funny. I thought he was the Crusher."


    "Well, yeah, but before that. He was just as human as you or I am. Fuck, I mean, he has a wife, had two kids. He''s just another victim of this shitty world."


    "His fist fucked with my plans last night, I''ll tell you that much."


    "Oh? I heard you tried to run off with some of Branch''s property, whatever that means."


    "That''s one way of looking at it. When I showed up here, I had an arsenal of weapons and my bike. I found my bike and just took what I felt was mine. They weren''t so keen on letting me go, was all."


    "Now you are a prisoner, so I guess that didn''t work out so well."


    "I was already a prisoner, just like you are. Branch is the only one who isn''t, although I''d argue that having all of this makes him a prisoner of sort as well. I just felt like it was time for me to get out of here."


    "And go where?"


    "Anywhere but here."


    "But there is nothing out there. Nothing at all."


    "This is what, the ruins of old Las Vegas? I was heading east."


    "But to where?"


    "Anywhere."


    "You don''t know that there is anyone left out there, though, or if they are if they would be friendly or not..." She shuddered remembering the van that picked her and the other girls up, the same van that Will and his brother had helped to save her from. "There are some fucked up people out there."


    "I''m hoping to avoid them. If this is any sign of what''s left out there, I''m not looking to be a part of it."


    "So you''d just be alone out there?"


    "Suppose so."


    "How would you survive?"


    "I''ve done fine this far, haven''t I?"


    "Sure, for a guy inside of a cage."


    "This is only temporary. I''ll either find a way out or I''ll die trying. Same thing."


    "You sure are a ray of sunshine, aren''t you? Just ready to give up like that?"


    "There aren''t many more options."


    "So you are just going to run away from here, then? Just like that?" He had lost his mind, if he hadn''t already a long time ago. She couldn''t tell, having only had a few brief conversations with him. He fell silent, laying back down, not seeming to mind her piercing questions. Vera fumbled around with the shin guard in her hands. "Oh yeah, I brought this for you."


    "What? Oh, so that''s it, then? Thanks."


    "Yeah, no problem," she handed it through the bars. "Better be careful with it, though. They might take it away if they know what it is."


    "Good call," he said, strapping it to his left boot. Vera was proud of the power supply on that one, it being thin enough to tuck into his boot. He seemed to figure out where it went pretty quickly, and it looked quite natural on him.


    "Just make sure that it''s off when you aren''t planning on kicking someone''s head off. That thing packs quite a charge."


    "Can do."

 25. The Engineer

    Branch was planning on making Will''s win over Demoreo into a monumental event, putting up banners on each floor by the elevators, promoting the fight. Will was spending more and more time out in the parking structure training with Handsome Bill to prepare for the fight, something that Vera had never seen him do. Hell, he was even laying off of the booze a bit. This was being billed as the most important event in the arena''s history, and the whole thing was just a giant sham to keep everyone spellbound.


    Vera couldn''t help but reflect on the profound sadness that she felt at seeing Demoreo as a sad husk of a human being. They genetically modified him beyond repair, with Branch''s scientists having done everything that they could to erase any of his humanity. They wanted him to be a husk, a moldable plaything, to strike fear into the hearts of everyone who dared to oppose Branch. Demoreo was yet another tool, another instrument for Branch''s new world order. Seeing him like that was difficult. Sure, he had physically transformed a long time ago, lost his ability to speak, but his mind was still mostly sound. At the time, handing him a notebook and a pen seemed futile, but he could capture his thoughts regularly. Vera kept the notebook, knowing that Branch and his goons would never let him hold on to something like that.


    That notebook went against their programming. Dehumanizing someone makes it easier to do horrible things to them. History has shown that time and time again. Hitler dehumanized the Jews while torturing and murdering them because they weren''t people anymore to him or his followers. While it felt extreme to compare Hitler and Branch considering their crimes, she was certain that Hitler wouldn''t be able to protest being compared to Jordan Branch from the grave.


    The notebook was in the top drawer of her desk; her pulling it out and flipping through it absently. She hadn''t known Demoreo before he transitioned, but his story was similar to most of what she had heard. He had a family to worry about. One of his kids died and they turned up at Branch Tower with Demoreo on death''s door. Branch took his family in, whisking them away to somewhere within the tower while Demoreo¡¯s fate was out of his hands, immediately whisked to surgery. Demoreo had no clue what had happened to his family and was pretty sure they had no clue what had happened to him.


    She had stopped bringing him the notebook after a while, him no longer able to write anything coherent in it. Instead, he looked pained, like he was being tortured. It felt like she was breaking his heart with every time she came to visit him with the notebook in hand, him unable to do anything beyond mash the pen against the paper. Abandoning him was tough for her, but he was one of the last bonds she held to another person and it hurt too much to keep going back there. She thought about bringing the notebook back to him one last time, to see if he could understand any of it, but it just seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment at this point.


    The right move was in front of her the whole time, but it was one that she had dreaded even considering. The right move involved her finding Demoreo''s family and sharing the notebook with them, to make sure that they found out what happened to him and how much he loved them. This was the only way that she could think of to keep Demoreo alive and let the Crusher just be one of Branch''s sick experiments, not the walking memorial to a forgotten man. At this point it was too late for Demoreo, but there could be memories of him that persist beyond that hulk of a creature that Branch will use for whatever he has up his sleeve.


    How to find Demoreo''s family was another story. All that Vera knew was that his wife¡¯s name was Shar and his son was named Tyler. There was Marie as well, but she passed away long before they made it to the tower. Branch kept most of what happened in Branch Tower quite segregated. There were many floors in the building and each one had its own purpose and population, each one different from the rest. Vera lived in one of the more posh floors of the building with Will and Jenna, which only gave a small view of what life was like at Branch Tower. Only those in Branch''s inner circle knew what was going on throughout, and one of those been Will''s creepy little brother, Stuart.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Tracking him down wasn''t difficult, either. He spent most of his time down in the basement, checking on the various projects that Branch had going on and helping to organize combatants for the arena. Tonight was the big night of Will vs. the Crusher, which meant that he''d be around in the basement where she was. She strolled around for a bit, inquiring after him before she heard him cursing someone out. It was most likely over something minor, like everything in Branch Tower. The world had ended. Putting live action executions in an arena for bloodthirsty patrons hardly felt like a valid way to spend one''s time, right?


    "What was it now? Forget to remove the black jellybeans from Branch''s bowl?"


    "What? Oh, it''s you," he sneered. "No, fuckin'' cunt dropped one of the cannister lights. Only have so many, ya know?"


    "Truly seems like a shame, huh?"


    "I know, fucking bastard didn''t get why it was¡ªoh, I see what you are doing," he said. "Tryin'' ta trick me again. I''m onto you."


    "Looks like you''ve smartened up a bit, huh Stuart?"


    "Fuckin'' hell I have."


    "Which reminds me, you pretty much know everything that goes on around here, right?"


    "Like hell."


    "Do you know where I could find somebody, then? I found this notebook, and I wanted to return it to the woman who dropped it."


    "Give it here," he said. "I''ll take care of it."


    "I wanted to do this myself," she said, keeping it from his grasp. He couldn''t see what was inside of that notebook, not that she believed he could really read or understand complex thoughts. She just didn''t want to take any chances. "She has a bit of a debt to me, you see..."


    "Oh fuckin'' right on. You ''bout to do a little knee crackin'' then? I like."


    "Something like that."


    "What''s ''er name?"


    "Umm, Shar Johnson, I think?"


    "Johnson, Johnson," he said. "I dunno everyone here, but I can find out for ye."


    "Great, thanks Stuart, you know where I''ll be."


    "Right, right, bugger off now, I got work to do."


    Every part of her knew this plan was half-baked, at best. Stuart wasn''t the smartest guy, but he was a loyal guy. If he did even a bit of cursory digging into why she wanted to find this woman or who she was, there could be trouble in a hurry. All it would take would be him telling Branch about her request and pandora''s box would be opened up for her. She''d no longer be that clever girl that Will brought to the tower. She''d be an imminent threat, treated like TK Gabriel. Or worse. She shuddered, the convulsion coming with little prompting. Already being a prisoner was bad enough, but being locked in an actual cage would only compound her issues.


    A few hours passed before the knock came to her door. Stuart had found the information that she was looking for, apparently without a problem. He wasn''t acting any stranger than usual and seemed to have bought her cover story. They were on the fifteenth floor, living in room 1507. She was working in food preparation on that floor while Tyler was in training to be a guard, something that she assumed Demoreo would be disgusted by. They were doing what they needed to survive.


    "Thanks, Stuart," she said. "I''m gonna go find them now."


    "Naw, no point in that now. It''s two hours to showtime, doll."


    "Oh, wow. I had no idea it got that late. How''s your brother doing?"


    "Fine," he said. "Mostly, I guess. He''s not loaded off of his lazy arse yet. He might stand a chance out there. That cocksucker."


    "Do you really think that he can?"


    "I dunno," he said. "I guess we''ll have to see how it goes?"


    "He''ll be okay, Stuart," she placed her hand on his shoulder, him struggling away from her quickly and looking away. He wasn''t the most emotional of people, especially not outwardly, but there was a flicker of concern inside of him over his brother''s well-being.


    "I fuckin'' know, alright? Fucking Christ."


    With that, he was gone, slamming the door behind him. Stuff like complex emotions existed within the rough exterior of the younger Farrington, just like it did within the bigger one, but much like his brother, it was well beneath the surface. Unlike his brother, though, Stuart was not one for the drink. His vice was violence. It always surprised Vera that he had opted to be a simple goon instead of fighting himself in the arena. He had fought in the arena once or twice, but he made nothing long term out of it. He saw the offer from Branch and it was his out. Maybe it was the fact that he was one of the few people allowed to carry a gun at all times? Having a rifle strapped to his back and a handgun at his hip seemed to suit him quite well compared to playing to crowds.


    Vera still had time to grab something to eat and clean herself up before the festivities that night, so she figured it wouldn''t be a bad idea to show up looking presentable, considering her station. Plus, if she didn''t show up or just hung around in the shadows, someone might take notice. This was all just a big show, wasn''t it?

 26. The Doctor

    After the wounds that she had treated of men and women who had fought in the arena, Will''s injuries seemed superfluous and silly. His reaction only made it even more surreal, acting like the world was ending at a couple of busted up ribs, abrasions and such. Yet, the attention that he received was second to none, even though his life was never in peril. She had seen three boys no older than 20 die from wounds that she could''ve treated with all of this equipment, instead of locking it away exclusively for his favorites. That was the harsh reality of the world that Branch had created, the world that she inhabited and the world that she had to coexist with, if not for her own survival, for Elsie''s.


    For that, she bit her tongue.


    Exhausted, she returned to her room to find Elsie with a coloring book, knowing that Stuart had most likely brought it to her. She didn''t even bother asking her. There was still blood staining her hands and clothing, but Elsie had learned to deal with it without blinking an eye. Somehow, the girl had adjusted to her life inside of the tower and the sight of blood.


    "Auntie Ruth, look," she held up her coloring book, showing a horse in a field, the grass neatly colored a deep green, the sky a light blue while the horse remained the off-white of the page.


    "That''s fantastic, sweetie. Have you eaten today?"


    "Stuart brought me a grilled cheese with some chocolate milk! It was yummy,¡± Elsie said.


    "I suppose I''ll go find some food for myself. Do you want a pudding or anything?"


    "Ooh, pudding! Yes!"


    "What do you say?"


    "Pudding, please," Elsie beamed.


    "That a girl."


    Normally she would have gotten some different clothes, but she didn''t bother. The exhaustion was creeping in, like a spring storm looming on the horizon, as was the fact that nothing that she did seemed to matter anymore. Will Farrington got the best care available, while the poor that fought for their lives¡ªnot for their own egos¡ªwere the ones that lived and died like slaves. Her job was to patch them up and get them back into the fight, but it felt more and more like she was just putting bandaids on mortal wounds in an attempt to make it look like someone cared.


    Every floor had its own designated cafeteria of sorts, where the residents would go for their daily rations. Back before the fall, they had been eateries of varying quality, each a distinct part of the opulence of Las Vegas casino resorts on the strip. Branch''s casino was special, featuring cuisine from all around the world, with each floor its own dizzying adventure into culinary expressions for the discerning tastebuds. Their floor featured what was formerly a Moroccan restaurant and still showed signs of its former life in its arches and tapestries that lined the walls. Other than that, it was a collection of tables, a few coolers, and a shelf where prepared food was laid out.


    Tensions were usually high among the inhabitants of the tower, at least on her floor, and rarely would anyone even bother to look the other way when she entered. This was supposed to be Branch''s new world¡ªhis new society¡ªyet these people were all scared out of their minds and kept to themselves. Sure, in the arena, his new elites were boisterous, excited and put on a big show, but the mood otherwise was that of solemn fear. She grabbed an apple from the counter and a cup of chocolate pudding along with a plastic spoon before letting out an exasperated sigh and headed for the door when she felt someone grab her arm.


    "I told ya to lie low," Stuart whispered.


    "I''m getting Elsie a pudding, Stuart, that''s all."


    "No, I mean Branch saw ya when they hauled Gabriel back in."


    "Oh, that."


    "Aye, that," he said, pulling her over into a booth in the corner. "I calmed him down, distracted him, but shit¡¯s bad."


    "Worse than before? It seemed pretty bad before."


    "It''s always bad, but his mood''s all over the fuckin'' place. Yer friend, I dunno what happens to him but it ain''t gonna be pretty."


    "He made his own decisions. He''ll be fine. He''s survived a lot."


    "That''s the kicker, innit? We all survived, but we''re all fucked."


    "I guess so. Is he okay?"


    "Banged up."


    "Can I help him in any way?"


    "I wouldn''t."


    "Can''t you at least take me to him? I''m sure he needs to be patched up or at least tended to, right?"


    "Fuckin'' hell."


    Stuart was many things, but a poet he was not. He never minced words, and his inflection would often give away his intentions more than the words they did. At his core, he seemed like a good person, like a caring person, just broken. That wasn''t uncommon these days; to be broken beyond repair, but to let humanity still break through the cracks occasionally. Stuart was different, though. He was relenting, and they both knew it.


    The trip down to the basement was an unusually quiet one. There was something vexing Stuart, but for one reason or another, he wasn''t vocalizing it. To the casual observer, he had it all right now; power, status, the ear of Jordan Branch, the most powerful man in the world, and the ability to move about freely. Yet there was a pall always obscuring the real him. Was it his brother, who went out into the arena and caved in the skulls of the living and the dead for Branch''s personal amusement, or was it the things that Branch made him do? Perhaps both.


    "Thank you," she finally said before the elevator reached the basement floor.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Eh?"


    "For taking me to see Tom. He''s a good man, you know."


    "Ain''t none of my business, he''s a dead bloke for all I know."


    "So I''m to say my goodbyes, then, I presume?"


    "Fuck if I know," he said, the elevator dinging and doors sliding open. He moved through the basement like it was his own home, comfortable with every nook and cranny. Chances are he could walk through with a blindfold on and not miss a single step. They approached a heavy iron door with a large pad affixed to the wall. Stuart paused and placed his hand on the pad, it scanning his hand before the light above the door turned from red to green. A klaxon sounded, and the door popped open. Stuart taking a grip on it and pulling it open with a deep below, the weight of the door even overwhelming for him.


    He motioned for her to go in ahead of him.


    "Why thank you, Stuart."


    "Just keep it quiet, alright? This here''s the boss'' lab, got a few cells in there. Usually we just kill anyone that crosses him, but he''s got a few pets right now, yer boy included."


    "I understand," she said.


    The look on his face said that her vocalizing the thought perhaps meant she didn''t, but she knew enough to stay quiet until he gave her the go-ahead. A dim room awaited her past the iron door, the walls lined with monitors and equipment. Most of it was recognizable to her as medical equipment, but also alien in how advanced the technology was. This equipment was worlds ahead of anything inside of her office, beyond what she needed to give vaccinations, test reflexes and deal with the chicken pox.


    Stuart led her further into the room until there was another door. Behind the door was the glint of metal bars and rough fluorescent lighting. Even after the world ended, fluorescent light still haunted humanity. Inside she finds Tom, leaning against a bench, his midsection wrapped in bandages and his jacket on the bench helping to cradle his head. There is a woman in there with light brown hair and a soft, caramel complexion who appeared to be tending to him.


    "Ya got five minutes, ''less the boss comes, then yer fucked."


    "Thank you, Stuart," she patted him on the shoulder, feeling a tremor run through his body at her touch. With that, he retreated into the lab, leaving her in the room with the two of them. "Tom, are you okay?"


    He shifted, his head turning from left to right.


    "He''s not exactly a conversationalist," the woman in the cell replied.


    "Oh, I know, he''s rather difficult, isn''t he?"


    "You''re telling me, imagine being locked up with him."


    "I owe him my life, you know."


    "Oh?" The woman looked up at her for the first time. "Ah, Dr. Faraday."


    "You know me?"


    "No, well, sort of," the woman picked herself up and offered her hand through the bars, Ruth taking it. "He''s talked about you, however little he''s spoken. You and, what''s her name, Elsie?"


    "Yes, Elsie."


    "It''s about all that I''ve been able to get out of him since they tossed me into here¡ªfor being a good person, nonetheless."


    "I''m sorry, dear," she said.


    "Whatever, this is Branch''s fucked up world, isn''t it? Oh, right, sorry, I''m Vera."


    "It''s nice to meet you. I believe that I''ve seen you around, with Stuart''s brother, perhaps?"


    "Yeah, I live with Will," she sighed. "That lunkhead is gonna get himself killed someday, especially if I''m not looking after him."


    "So you two are..."


    "Oh god no," she laughed, "I mean, sort of? I don''t know. My talents are needed elsewhere."


    "Talents?"


    "I''m an engineer and they''ve got me building weapons of crass destruction."


    "Oh my," she said, suppressing the laugh, "you are a sharp one."


    "I''m glad that someone appreciates it," she looked back at Tom and kicked at his boot. "Have you seen Will in the arena?"


    "Yes, I did, quite a spectacle."


    "Well, I made that dumb gauntlet that he wears, the one that blows heads up. That''s what an aerospace engineer is doing in Branch''s post-apocalyptic hellscape, that and occasionally fucking the grand champion of the arena when I get lonely."


    "I see."


    "Sorry, I''m just ranting at this point. TK isn''t budging and our other friend is passed out."


    "Who, Stuart?"


    "Oh, shit," she said, "you uhh, might want to not turn around."


    "What?" Instinctively, she turned, only to find herself face-to-face with the horrifying monster from the arena. There he was, slumped over in a cell of his own, a large, hulking mass of viscera and tumors, up close, just as terrifying but somehow more fragile, more human. "... My god," she murmured under her breath.


    "I thought he told you..."


    "... is he?"


    "He''s just resting, recuperating, but he''s a mess. Poor Demoreo."


    "Demoreo? Is that his name?"


    "It is, well, at least it was."


    "So you knew him before... this?"


    "Sort of. I met him here, after Branch had been experimenting on him. Hell, that''s how I landed up in here. I had a notebook of our conversations, of his thoughts and memories, and I brought it to his family only for..."


    "My my my," a voice broke through, the door swinging open. "This is quite the meeting of the minds," Jordan Branch strolled into the hallway, standing in between the two cells with both Stuart and Viktor flanking him. Stuart grit his teeth at Dr. Faraday and shook his head in shame. That meant that he had been taken off-guard, that he wanted to warn her, but it was too late. "Perhaps it is just a sign of my own poor judgement, letting the three of you live? Are you conspiring against little old me?"


    "I didn''t know you had any," Vera snapped.


    "Oh, this one, quite the feisty one, isn''t she? I saw great promise in the both you and Mr. Gabriel, each in your own, unique way. You see, Mr. Gabriel here could have been the crown jewel of my new society. The former action hero making his way through the barren wasteland in search of a new life at Branch Tower. You could have addressed to the people, Mr. Gabriel. You could have helped them to understand what we are building to. Instead, you chose this. As for Ms. Maia here? Limitless potential, a truly brilliant scientific mind, a perfect fit for Branch Tower!"


    "Yet?"


    "Very astute, Ms. Maia," he said. "Yet you squandered that talent and instead opted to live with that brute of a man in Farrington, to make little devices for him. My door is always open to such... talents as yours, yet you chose a different path. All for what, a dead man?"


    "For what was right," she said.


    "Oh psh now, what does disturbing Mrs. Johnson and her son have to do with right or wrong? Her husband made a valiant sacrifice for the good of mankind, for the cure, for this indomitable plague that impacts us all. Mr. Johnson''s sacrifice should burden no one else. I take care of them, do I not?"


    "She''s a line cook in a cafeteria."


    "Precisely! What skills did she have that benefited our little society here? What skill does little Tyler bring to the table that further humanity''s struggle to rebuild itself? None. Just like his father brought nothing to the table. This way, at least he could be more, to contribute more. At least the two of you had promised, just like the good doctor over here," he motioned towards Dr. Faraday.


    "You made him a monster," she said. "You took his mind from him, his thoughts, his humanity."


    "That was never my intent," he said. "Nor is it any of your concern what happens with the Crusher."


    "Look at your plaything," TK broke his silence. "He''s back there, cowering in the corner. If that is your idea for rebuilding society, then count me out. You should have let me go while you had the chance, Branch."


    "Very charming, as always, Mr. Gabriel."


    "You are obsessed. Control is all that you care about," Vera said, asserting herself back into the conversation.


    "Fascinating theory that you have there, it''s a shame that nobody will get to hear it."


    "Are you going to have one of your thugs kill me finally? What will Will say about that?"


    "On the contrary, Ms. Maia. In case Mr. Gabriel hasn''t gotten to hear the news yet; Mr. Farrington was injured in his heroic battle with the Crusher earlier, and I need a new main event attraction for the arena. Who better than the first man to beat the Crusher, TK Gabriel? As for you, well, I have other plans for you, Ms. Maia. Patience, though. Oh, and good doctor, I do believe he''ll need some tending to before he can fight. Perhaps even after, that is, if I let him live."


    "I won''t fight for you," he said.


    "So be it. Then you''ll die. Save the good doctor some work."

 27. The Doctor

    There she was, right back in Handsome Bill''s den of lost boys with the most lost boy of them all in her care. TK was as silent as usual while she tended to his wounds. He was banged up, but when he stumbled into their camp initially, he was in much worse condition and even then, he remained relatively quiet, reserved and didn''t let it show what kind of pain he was in.


    Those were traits that were important in Branch''s new world, just not the kind of traits that Jordan Branch wanted in his subjects, she supposed. His game was control and Tom had defied him at every turn, which did him no real favors considering his current predicament, although Ruth was just as unsure of where she stood currently, knowing better than to ask questions. At least she knew Stuart wouldn''t let anything happen to Elsie. The boy had taken a liking to her and would care for her without having to be asked.


    "Alright, fella." Bill lumbered towards them, clipboard in hand. "Yer up."


    "Alright," TK replied.


    "Good luck out there, yer gonna need it."


    "We''ll see," he said, the chain-link gate opening up while the larger gate to the arena slowly cracked open. The rumble of the crowd became louder and louder while the mighty gate swung open. TK gripping onto his bat before he looked back at Dr. Faraday and gave a slight nod. Would that be his last gesture? Was this their last moment? The anticipation was eating away at her and she wasn''t sure how he was so composed, heading out to what was most likely his inevitable doom. The energy coming from the crowd was similar to his previous foray, but this time, it felt ominous and deadly. He might not survive this time, no matter how hard he tried. Tom had tried to avoid killing last time, making some sort of bold, sweeping statement, but this time he wouldn''t have those luxuries, not unless Branch''s sick game took another twist that she couldn''t predict. Hopefully Tom was able to.


    The air smelled of rotten flesh, fresh blood, and the stench of the bodies packed into the stands. Watching as Tom slowly walked through the arena felt surreal, as if he was moving in slow motion from one of his movies. There he was, the action hero, the man who was there to save the world only the world had really ended, and this wasn''t a movie. A voice boomed over the loudspeakers and the crowd noises created a cacophony of madness unlike she had ever experienced, making her skin crawl. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gates creaked open. Having just came from the cells, she knew the Crusher was out of commission, at least for now. Two men in light leather armor charged out, one with a makeshift mace, another with what looked like an old, rusted machete. Tom hunkered down into a fighting position while Dr. Faraday''s heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.


    By the time the two reached him, the larger one with the mace was already huffing and puffing, while the one with the machete was stumbling over himself. This was clearly the warm up. This was a test from Branch to see how Tom would react to fighting another set of unprepared bozos. He acted without hesitation this time; the mace swinging at his head, TK holding the bat out and letting the chain wrap around it, him jerking the bat backwards while he twisted his body so that his leg was planted on the ground, the buffoon tripping over his leg and the inertia doing the rest to send him crashing onto his back, the air escaping him in one violent burst.


    The machete wielder planted his feet before he began swinging at TK. She gasped at the narrow miss of the rusty blade. Being afflicted with tetanus during the apocalypse wasn''t something that she would be able to just patch up on him, not without the proper medicine. There was no pattern to the swings. They were wild, unpredictable. The blade kissed his right boot, brushing against the metal shin guard he wore. Just narrowly, he ducked a shot that came for his head, the sound of the blade whirring by his ear. He brought the bat up and struck the man in the chest; the blow sucking the air out of the man and sent him to the ground, grumbling and cringing in pain. The man swung from his defensive position; it catching the sleeve of TK''s jacket but the leather able to prevent it from tearing into his flesh.


    "C''mon you fucker," the man snarled at him. He dashed at TK, with TK just barely able to sidestep another swing with the machete. The man went for an upswing with the machete, but TK was able to bring the bat down just in time to block the shot. The bat and the machete clashing violently. Both men went to pull their weapons back, but found themselves connected. The bluntness of the machete kept it from cutting clean through the wood, but it found itself buried in the bat''s bulk. There was an opening now, TK snapping off a kick with his left leg, the shin connecting with the leather armor across the man''s ribs, him huddling over in pain, howling.


    Something was wrong, though. Tom huddled down, tinkering with his left boot and the shin guard on there. What was he possibly doing? Vera had talked about the explosive charge she had created for Will. Was Tom expecting the same thing? "Tom! Tom get up, my god!" Dr. Faraday shouted, hoping that her voice would carry over the chaos while he fiddled with his boot. One man was up and charging at him. The mace was swinging around the makeshift handle while the bigger man was bowling right towards him. Tom rolled out of the way, then dodged another shot, still stopping to fiddle with his boot. Another shot came dangerously close to his head, Tom kicking his foot out and tripping the man before fiddling with his boot again, this time stopping and springing back up.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Like an explosion, he shot up from his feet, driving his knee into the face of the mace wielder, blood streaming down from his nose at escape velocity. He jerked the mace from the ground and swung it at Tom with a wild overhand shot Tom could counter with his right knee into the ribs of the man. He went for a violent backswing only to miss by a mile, TK bringing his left fist up to connect flush on the jaw with a big uppercut that sent him staggering back. TK dug his left heel into the ground while the man went for a giant swing with his right arm, twirling the mace above his head. In a flash, TK had snapped his left leg up towards the man, rotating on the ball of his right foot and popping his hips, his left leg unfurling at high velocity and his left shin snapping at the man''s head. There was no time for him to cry out before the shin guard connected, the spikes digging into the soft folds of his flesh before a pop went off, light emitting from his boot followed by a rain of blood, his shin not being stopped by anything but instead moving with momentum towards the ground, causing him to almost stumble. She had done it; she had made him some sort of device, or he had stolen one.


    "What in the fuck?" The machete man, who was charging at him, stopped cold. "How the...?"


    Before he could complete his thought, TK smashed his right elbow into his temple while the body of the other man lay on the ground, headless and twitching. The crowd was once again in disbelief at the scene. They had seen Farrington with his gauntlet, but never anyone else with anything similar. The machete man tried to regain his composure, only for TK to drive his left knee into his sternum. TK swung with a head kick, the man ducking under it just in the knick of time, only for TK to catch him with a right back kick to the stomach with the momentum from the first one. This sent him down to one knee, doubled over in pain, and TK didn''t hesitate while he planted his boot, measured the shot and unloaded another kick towards the man''s head. He screamed, but another buzz and a splat interrupted it, his body falling over in a heap on the ground while chunks of his brain and skull rained down on top of his lifeless body.


    A sense of calm washed over her, only offset by the absolute horror of the carnage that was laid out on the sand. She knew he wanted to make a statement, to not kill, but he had no choice, did he? The game was rigged and survival meant dispatching these goons and doing it in an emphatic manner that drove the crowd crazy enough for Branch to know better than to kill him in front of them. It was either him or them, as simple as that. Of course, it didn''t need to be that way. That was just how Branch wanted things to unfold. TK craned his neck towards Branch''s private box, seeing him stewing up there with Farrington by his side, his arm in a sling. Branch''s two guards were by his side, Stuart trying to restrain him, but Branch charged up to his podium.


    "Quite a show, Mr. Gabriel," he boomed. "We''re all very entertained, aren''t we? Looks like a certain prisoner helped you out after all with that contraption of yours, huh? Just full of surprises, aren''t we?"


    The crowd was unsure how to react. Branch was unraveling before all of them, but trying to project the image of being in control. They didn''t know that TK Gabriel was a prisoner; they didn''t know that Vera was the woman who had helped to build Farrington into the legend that he was, or how she had been helping him and was now locked up in a cell watching Demoreo decay further and further into being the Crusher. This wouldn''t be an execution for TK tonight. Instead, it would be the night that Branch lost control, she thought. He was up there raving like an absolute madman. There was no way that these people could see that, could see how insane that man was, and still want to be a part of his world. My god, he was doing it.


    "Well, you aren''t the only one that is full of surprises tonight," Branch cried. "Oh no, you see, I''m in control here. I always will be, and it''s about time that you understand how things work around here. Bring her out!"


    The "her" caught Dr. Faraday by surprise. There was no way that they''d make Vera fight, right? She wasn''t there to fight, she didn''t deserve to die. The great gates slowly parted ways, and Dr. Faraday''s heart pounded an offbeat rhythm inside of her chest. He was a monster, but not that much of a monster, was he? Farrington already had to be upset at Vera''s imprisonment, if Branch had her killed he''d lose completely control over him, maybe even over Stuart. Stuart was a soft-hearted boy. He had talked about Vera, about what she had done for Will. There was no way he''d sit back and let that happen. The gate paused, and a lone figure appeared in the shadows, slowly walking out towards the arena.


    The figure kept approaching, moving from the shadows into the lights of the arena to reveal that yes, it was definitely a woman, but walking with a noticeable limp. What had they done to Vera? Why even get her involved? She never wanted to be involved with any of this. That was when the setting sun caught her face, showing decay and rot. That wasn''t Vera. She limped closer and closer yet, but Dr. Faraday couldn''t make out who it was. Tom stood there, unmoving, until the figure drew closer and closer yet, only for the bat to fall from his hands into the dirt, him dropping to his knees.


    "Jess?" He cried out, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Jess, no."

 28. The Brawler

    "What in the fuck is this shit?" Will asked, watching the lone, hobbling figure approaching TK Gabriel in the arena. Will''s brother stood at his side, visibly uncomfortable, his hand resting on the gun slung over his shoulder like he was expecting something to go wrong at any moment. "Stuart?"


    "Fuck if I know," he said. Will suspected that his brother knew, though. Nothing that Branch did was ever too far from Stuart or Viktor, them both standing as silent guards watching while he ruled over the kingdom inside of his high rise like a maniac.


    "Oh, this is too much," Branch said. "Just look at him, my god."


    "Who''s the cunt?" Will asked.


    "Oh, Mr. Farrington, if you only knew the delight that I''m taking in this. The sheer, utter delight. Wait, what is he doing?" Branch''s face turned flush, turning to Viktor, who shrugged, then to Stuart. "What the fuck is he doing?"


    "Looks pissed," Will said.


    "Real fuckin'' pissed," Stuart said. "Looks like he''s scaling the wall, innit he?"


    "Where are my guards?" Branch was growing nervous. "Get everyone out there, stop him! Stop him now!"


    Guards poured out from the side doors on the arena floor, Branch shouting at them to take him out no matter what, but Gabriel was climbing his way up through the crowd in the bleachers, climbing up step by step with crowds gathering around him. The guards hesitated, refusing to fire up into the crowd of people while Branch was pacing around in the box.


    "No, no!" He shouted. "Shoot him, I don''t care about the damage, shoot him now!"


    "Awright mistah Branch, we gotta get yer ass outta here," Stuart said.


    "No, I refuse to back down," he said. "I refuse to let TK Gabriel win. I will not run away from him. I''m staying right here."


    Branch moved towards the front of the box, stewing inside of his suit at the guards who stood dumbfounded, slamming his fists down on the edge while he watched Gabriel climb up the bleachers unimpeded, a man on a mission. Will turned to his brother, who was standing there with a sullen look on his face. Something was very wrong. "Who the fuck was that?"


    "That was..." Stuart eyeballed Branch and turned to his brother, whispering into his ear. "His fuckin'' dead wife."


    "What, how?"


    "One-uh his fuckin'' experiment er sumtin."


    "You takin'' the piss outta me?"


    "No."


    Both brothers stood in silence while Branch raged at anyone that would listen to him. The crowd was in an uproar and the figure that was apparently Gabriel''s wife stood frozen in the arena; guards keeping a safe distance from her. Crusher was one of Branch''s experiments, and Will knew all too well what kind of power he had possessed. From what he understood, the Crusher was alive when they started experimenting on him, but Gabriel''s wife had been dead. Long dead. Branch''s power was far beyond what any human being should possess. He was a madman through and through.


    "C''mon you piece of shit," Branch said towards the approaching Gabriel. "I fucking dare you to come at me. I dare you."


    "Sut up. I''m going to fucking kill you," Gabriel shouted over the crowd.


    "Yeah, I dare you to. C''mon."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Things had escalated and felt beyond anyone''s control, just Branch begging Gabriel to attack him. Branch turned back towards Stuart and Viktor, nodding at them only to turn around to see Gabriel pulling himself up into the box, a few of the spectators helping to push him up over the barrier. Gabriel spilled over the wall, almost knocking Branch over as if it wasn''t for Viktor and Stuart catching him and keeping him on his feet. Will froze in place, watching Gabriel scramble to his feet and lunge at Branch. His fist connected on Branch''s jaw, sending him crashing into his throne, chaos erupting all around them.


    For the first time since he had arrived at Branch Tower, Jordan Branch was not in control. He was mortal, scared, and vulnerable. Will and Gabriel locked eyes for a moment, Will seeing the hurt through the veil of rage that encompassed him, freezing him in place. At that moment, they understood each other. They were both cut from the same cloth, both experiencing the same hurt and stuck on the hamster wheel Branch had laid out for them. Vera was right, of course. That stung him something deep, considering how he often dismissed her advice. None of that mattered now, though, amidst the chaos.


    Viktor had lept over Branch and jumped onto Gabriel, raining down blows to his ribs while he lay on the ground. Branch was holding onto his jaw, a look of disbelief and panic painted on his face, pressing Stuart forward. "Get him out of here," Branch barked at Stuart. "Back down to his cell!"


    Stuart froze in place, Viktor looking up at him, giving Gabriel an opening to push the blonde sociopath off of him and into Branch. Gabriel''s elbow arced up from his downed position, landing flush on Viktor''s groin, him howling out loudly while Gabriel pulled himself back up to his feet. Stuart moved into action, driving a knee into Gabriel''s midsection. Gabriel staggering back against the barrier, almost tumbling out of the skybox into the throngs of the crowd that were watching in stunned silence. Stuart dashed towards him again, Gabriel sidestepping him and sending him crashing ribs-first into the railing, Gabriel driving his elbow into Stuart''s spine, Stuart letting out a bloodcurdling scream.


    Viktor was in a blind rage, fists flying at Gabriel but missing by a sound margin. Gabriel looked focused, harnessing his rage while he dodged Viktor''s looping overhands. When Gabriel''s left leg darted out, Will gasped, his shin contacting Viktor''s ribs, his body flying back towards the rear of the box before landing on the ground, convulsing. Stuart stumbled towards Gabriel, priming his leg back to land a kick on him before looking over at Will and their eyes locking again. Will''s eyes were pleading with him not to hurt his brother, but before he could say anything, Gabriel just gave him a slight nod, taking Stuart by the nape of his neck and tossing him over the railing into the crowd.


    "Somebody stop him," Branch cried out.


    "That''s my fucking wife," Gabriel growled. "What did you do to her?"


    "Will," Gabriel turned to Will like a deer in the headlights. "For fuck''s sake, Will, end this madman."


    "That was fucked up what you did, Mr. Branch," Will said.


    "We can debate moral minutiae later!"


    "What did you do to her?" Gabriel was standing over Branch, the magnate¡¯s back pressed up against his own opulent throne.


    "I thought that you''d be pleased to see her again," Branch said, was attempting to regain his composure.


    "No one told you to play god, Branch."


    "But I am the closest damned thing, you mongrel." Branch pushed back, only for Gabriel to slam Branch''s head against the back of the chair.


    "I held you responsible for her death from day one. You killed the world."


    "I... I didn''t kill the world, the world killed itself. I was the man everyone blamed, the fall guy for generations of hostilities and misunderstandings. Humanity killed itself."


    "You just pulled the trigger, is that it?"


    "Yes, and now what? You are going to end me, end the world''s wrongs and usher in a new era of peace?"


    "No," Gabriel said. "I''ll end you and leave this abomination. They''re all complicit in your twisted kingdom. You deserve to¡ª"


    A shot rang out from inside of the small box, Will''s ears ringing while he watched Gabriel recoil, clutching at his side. He fell over in a heap while Viktor struggled to pick himself up, smoking gun in his hand.


    "Thank you, Viktor," Branch let out a sigh of relief. "I fear he was about to make a fool of himself there. Viktor, escort him back to his cell and find Stuart while you are at it."


    Viktor was still in pain, but nodded at Branch, grasping onto Gabriel''s right boot¡ªthe one without the charged weapon¡ªand dragged him towards the door, leaving a trail of smeared blood behind him. "What the fuck?" Will muttered under his breath.


    "I know you are injured, Mr. Farrington," Branch straightened himself out. "But I expected better of you."


    "You didn''t have to do that to his wife."


    "That''s where you are wrong," he said. "Go collect your brother, would you?"


    "Aye," Will said, turning away from Branch, who sunk back into his throne.


    "And the next time I expect you to be more grateful."


    "Aye," Will said, not turning back to look at him as he followed the trail of blood out of the box.

 29. The Brawler

    "Fucked, innit?" Will paced while one of Handsome Bill''s medics tended to Stuart. "This whole thing is fucked."


    "Sure as shit," Stuart said.


    "His fuckin'' wife? Dead wife, fuck. That wanker went too far."


    "That wankers our boss, only fucker dat took us in."


    "He''s a bloody madman, Stuart!" Will shouted.


    "Who ain''t?"


    "Dunno." Will sat down on the bench next to Stuart while the medic bandaged up his bruised ribs. "He spared you, eh?"


    "Fuck''d if I know."


    "I saw it, Stuart. He pulled back, but he didn''t kick."


    "Fuckin'' tossed me onto the bloody bleachers," Stuart grumbled.


    "Coulda done worse."


    "Aye."


    "Where the fuck has Vera been, anyway?" She was never far from things when shit hit the fan, a wily one.


    "Oh," Stuart fell quiet.


    "You seen her?"


    "I, err, ow, you fucker." Stuart spat at the medic, avoiding Will¡¯s question. "Be more careful."


    "Sorry, Mr. Farrington," the medic said.


    "Damned right you''re sorry."


    "Stuart," Will said. "You seen her, though?"


    "Aye," he said. "You ain''t gonna like this, brother... Branch locked her up, down by Crusher and¡ª"


    "Fucking poofter," Will raged.


    "Don''t do¡ª"


    His words fell upon deaf ears, Will storming off towards the makeshift prison that he knew was down the hall from the entrance to the car park. He had only been there once before, but the cold, sterile laboratory was burned into his mind, as were the cold cells just behind it. There weren''t any prisoners at the time, but he had heard that was where Branch kept the Crusher when he wasn''t popping heads like grapes inside of the arena for the delight of the audience.


    Things were calm throughout that basement level. Most of the tower guards were out in the arena still or tending to Branch. That prick. Vera was right. Branch wasn''t a trustworthy person. Everyone served as a pawn for him to toy with. Bringing a man''s dead wife back to haunt him felt wrong. If Branch had a problem with Gabriel, he could have just killed him, executed him, and made up a reason. Everyone would have cheered it on, no matter what. He was the letter of the law. For all intents and purposes, he was the last living god. He was the last living god, and Will had grown weary of the worship that he required.


    "Mr. Farrington, sir, everything is on lockdown until¡ª" The lone guard in front of the prison held out his hand, Will bowling into him.


    "There''s no time for that." Will pushed forward, refusing to listen to some mealy mouthed guard.


    "But, I have orders to¡ª"


    "There is chaos out there. Why aren''t you helping?"


    "I have to guard the prisoners," the guard said.


    "They are in bloody cages, you moron."


    "Oh, well..."


    "It''s fuckin'' chaos out there, mate. They need you."


    "Fuck," the guard gave a nod to Will and tore off down the hallway, Will chuckling under his breath at how daft they all could be. Everyone was on edge at all times, knowing that Branch''s affections only went so far. Branch''d take an interest in you, find you fascinating, sort of like a new toy and want you around until the moment he found someone new to occupy his thoughts. Then he moved onto them and left you wondering what you did. Vera had warned him so many times, but Will thought he knew differently. He didn''t think that he was under Branch''s spell, just that he was just that damned good in the arena. Now he wondered how many of his fights were fixed without his knowledge and what kind of symbol he was supposed to be for all of those people.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    That was then, though, this is now. Things were crumbling. Branch''s castle was showing signs of wear and tear. The people were seeing through the veneer of the god; he was human, all it took was one man to dare thumb his nose at him. That could''ve been Will, instead it was TK Gabriel. That stung a bit, but there wasn''t anything that he could do about it now.


    "Will?" Vera''s voice rang out from inside of the lab, a twinge of desperation present. "Is that you?"


    "Vera," he called, his heart skipping a beat while he rounded the corner. There she was, disheveled and sullen behind a set of bars inside of a cage, looking like the puppy he found on the street when he was a boy. His thoughts flashed back to when he had initially found her inside of that package truck, how she was full of fire and a desire to survive and how none of that was in her eyes anymore. "What''re you doin'' here? Stuart told me and..."


    "Just shut up already, Will." She moved towards the cage door, gripping onto the bars, her fingers turning white. The room stank of desperation and depression.


    "You''d think bein'' locked up would cut that tongue."


    "Then you''d be wrong." They were both playing up their usual banter, but it felt empty to Will this time out. The words were there, he knew that much, but they didn''t want to come out. She was right, she always was right, but this didn''t seem like the time or the place. He needed to get her the fuck out of there.


    "I gotta find something to break that lock, get you outta there and¡ª"


    The sound of a low rumble behind him made his skin crawl, him freezing in place at the recognition. It couldn''t be, could it? Was this where they kept him? Were they keeping his dear, sweet Vera in the same room as.... no. Will turned, only to see the Crusher slumped over in a cell, a placid vision of a monster unlike he''d ever seen him before. The Crusher was supposed to be Will''s endgame, the battle to end all battles, the great antagonist to his heroic story of surviving the wasteland. Yet, there he was inside of a cage, staring up at him with his sad, brown eyes. There was pain in his eyes, a pain and sorrow that reflected what he was feeling on the inside.


    "My god..."


    "You know Demoreo already," she said.


    "But, that''s... how?"


    "This was your big baddie, wasn''t it? There he is."


    "He... he is just a big puppy?"


    "He''s a man, Will. This is what Branch did to him. He''s not all rage and destruction, he''s just a man like you that was trying to do the right thing for his family," she explained while Will stepped forward towards the cage, staring down at the beast that he knew as the Crusher, seeing him as the man that Vera had called Demoreo. There he was, pitiful in stature, afraid of the world around him, all curled up in the fetal position. "This is what he got in return."


    "Why the fuck doesn''t he just... I don''t know, rage up and break them fuckin'' bars?"


    "You think that he hasn''t?"


    "Why wouldn''t he? Fuckers a monster, he has destroyed anything in his path."


    "He has. Multiple times. I was down here the last time that he broke free. They''ve done so much to him, there isn''t much left of him."


    "I... just¡­" Will rested against the metal bars and looked down at the subdued monstrosity of a man. "I thought he was this mighty beast, this killer, that he''d be in some giant iron cell surrounded by turrets an'' shit."


    "This is Branch''s reality, Will. Everything about him is an illusion, an image that he casts to fool everyone into thinking that he''s some man-turned-god, some great leader. It''s smoke and mirrors."


    "Fuckin'' hell," he muttered under his breath. Of course, like always, Vera was right. That was becoming a mantra for Will. Demoreo looked up at him, his dark brown eyes piercing through him just like the hound that he had as a boy. A part of him couldn''t help but feel deflated. This was supposed to be the monster that set him free, the last encounter at the end of his quest for immortality. Yet, like the rest of it, everything was carefully crafted to appear more than it was. The world had ended, and that wretch was just as much of a victim as he was. "I shoulda listened to ya."


    "What else is new? Then again, I should''ve listened to myself, maybe I wouldn''t be in here."


    "Why the fuck are you in there?" He asked, still transfixed by the malformed man before him.


    "I kept a journal of all the interactions that I had with Demoreo in my time here. They never cared much about him or really guarded him before. I''d come in here and we''d talk. He''d write as much as he could for as long as he could. A few weeks ago, it stopped. He lost everything. He''s still in there, somewhere, but they''ve done so many things to his mind at this point, I just don''t know. I had to do something, Will."


    "What''d you do?"


    "His wife and his boy live here, up on the 15th floor. I brought them that notebook. They deserve to know what happened to him."


    "You mean they didn''t?"


    "No," she said. "Branch told them that he died, put them up in a suite, gave her some meaningless job. That was that."


    "How could someone do that..." Will thought, trailing off and not feeling the need to finish his thought aloud. They both knew what he was thinking. The Crusher wasn''t some beast, some creation of the wasteland that was there to mindlessly drink from the skulls of men. He was just another captive of Branch and this whole fucked up world that he created. The Crusher was a man, a broken man, and his Vera had tried to show him that, had tried to fix that and right the wrongs.


    "That''s why I''m here, Will," she whispered. "Because I wanted them to know."


    "I don''t get it," he said. "How''d that get you tossed into the clink? If he''s so proud of what he''s done to this bloke, why the bullshit?"


    "Control. I did something that Branch couldn''t control. It''s all a part of his grand illusion. The Crusher was the uncontrollable beast that was under his control. That''s what mattered, not that he is Demoreo, a broken man that Branch did the most harm to."


    "Fuck it," Will said. "I''m gettin'' you outta there and we''re screwin'' outta here."


    "No," she said. "I have to stay for now."


    "You hear what''s goin'' on out there? Gabriel attacked Branch. Everything is chaos. They won''t notice a fuckin'' thing."


    "Will, just trust me on this, alright? We could act now, but that would just be us escaping. These people deserve to know, they deserve to live their lives without Branch''s control."


    "So what, then? We fuckin'' wait? We let this madness continue. What if he does that to me?" He pointed down at Demoreo, who let out a load moan.


    "We wait and we hold out hope."


    "Hope? We need to fuckin'' run, lass."


    "Will, I''m glad that you are seeing this, but you need to be patient. You are important to Branch still, we need to take advantage of it."

 30. The Engineer

    TK Gabriel lay supine on the cot, a thick layer of gauze wrapped over his midsection, a deep red circle growing on his right side, seeping through the pristine white of the wraps. They had dumped him off in the cell without a word, but thanks to her visit from Will, she knew what had happened, at least most of it. Why TK felt the need to jump into the stands and go after Branch¡ªbeyond the obvious¡ªwas a mystery to her. He was out cold; the guards left a bucket and rag for her to place on his head in case he broke out into a fever, not that it mattered if he did. If he did, there seemed to be very little chance of them helping him.


    Demoreo was in the cell across the way, a steady, low rumble of a groan emanating from him she had grown accustomed to during her brief imprisonment. Everyone down there was damaged, to some degree or another, and served as a serious threat to Branch''s grasp on the power of the wasteland. While Demoreo might be under Branch''s control, Vera''s plan could be the key to unlocking his memories, to somehow bringing back Demoreo, the person from the abyss and anguish of being the Crusher. Chances of him ever looking normal again were slim to none, but maybe a sliver of his humanity could return to him if he just saw his wife and child again.


    There had to be something inside of him, something left that wasn''t mutilated and trapped inside of a living horror. She had seen the man inside of the beast and knew what he was capable of, knew how horrified he was at what he had become. If he had only known what Branch would do to him, he would have never gone there. Maybe he would have found his own way to care for his family. Instead, here he was, just like the rest of them, a prisoner of Branch''s devices. Only Demoreo was the avatar for everyone''s deepest fears of what Branch really was.


    "Arg," Gabriel groaned. "The fuck."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "Whoa there," Vera turned back towards him, holding him down by the shoulders. "You''ve been shot. Stay still and don''t move much. You are lucky that they patched you up at all, that they didn''t just kill you right there and then."


    "I''ve gotta get out of here."


    "No, you''ve gotta rest. We don''t know what else that bullet couldn''t hit. You were lucky that it passed through you."


    "There''s nothing lucky about any of this."


    "No, I suppose not, but you still have your life. Rushing into Branch''s box like that wasn''t the smartest move."


    "You didn''t hear, did you?" He picked himself up, Vera no longer trying to hold him down but instead helping to prop him up against the bars. He wore a pained expression but was trying to hide just how much pain he was in.


    "Hear what? I heard you rushed into the box like a madman and took Branch on headfirst. I''m not sure if it was brave or stupid. After your escape attempt, I''m not even sure why he''s keeping you alive."


    "My wife," he said. "They took my wife."


    "Your wife? I didn''t know you had your wife with you..."


    "She was on my bike, in a bag. I was looking to give her a proper burial."


    "Oh." The gravity of the situation hung on her, the weight of the next question only bringing her down further before she mustered up the courage to ask it aloud. "What... did they do to her?"


    "What they did to that poor fucker¡­" he motioned towards Demoreo. "Was nothing compared to what they did to her."


    "My god," she gasped. "She was there, in the arena?"


    Gabriel nodded, avoiding eye contact with Vera while they bought sat in silence inside of the cell. She knew Branch was a monster, knew that he had brought about the end of the world through his machinations, but she has been face-to-face with these monsters, she had spoken with Branch himself and seen what he was capable of. Bringing back a dead man''s wife to haunt him shouldn''t have surprised her, but that thought still gave her pause. That was what happened to those that dared to cross Branch in public, to undermine his society built upon the ruins of the world with him mounting that world with his gilded throne.

 31. The Engineer

    The days crawled along, the three of them the forgotten prisoners, at least the ones left to their own devices. A different guard every time delivered two meals a day; two plates of rice and chicken for Vera and TK, and wheeled in daily was a side of raw meat for Demoreo. They used to tranquilize him before rolling his dinner in, but now the docile Crusher would follow with his dead eyes but remained unmoving until the cage door crashed shut and he''d tear through it in a matter of seconds. The security cameras pointed towards the cages reminded her they were never forgotten or alone, just that the lack of physical guards was Branch sending a message to them; they weren''t worth his time or resources.


    Her mind drifted towards Will and the sheer panic and sorrow that she saw in his eyes that day when he came to find her. Will was an x-factor now, finally aware of Branch''s true nature. If he listened and laid low, everything would be fine, but imagining him up in that suite all alone with Jenna and a sea of endless whiskey bottles sent a shiver down her spine. There were many things that Will Farrington was capable of, but drunken outbursts of violence seemed like the most likely path, which scared her. Will just needed to not do anything stupid for a while longer, just long enough for something to catch or for a plan to hatch.


    "I''m worried," she said out loud. TK wasn''t very talkative, and Demoreo had long-since slipped away from having the ability to hold a conversation of any kind. It was more for herself. "I''m worried about Will."


    TK was healing, albeit slower than she''d like to see. TK''s tray of food always came with antibiotics, which seemed to help him out, to the best of her knowledge. While medical science wasn''t her forte, years in the wasteland and in the bloody Branch Tower had exposed her to violence, death and injuries to where she at least had a base level understanding of them all. She had patched up Will more times than he''d ever like to admit; him avoiding Branch''s doctors as to not show weakness to the rest of the fighters that all received medical attention after their fights.


    Part of his whole tough-guy image. That was why his arm being in a splint was so devastating to him, although he''d never admit it out loud. An injury like that was a long time coming, though, especially after so many excursions into the arena. Even if Branch was protecting Will, building him up to be this symbol of his power and humanity''s perseverance under Branch''s watchful eye, things could and did go wrong out on those blood-soaked sands.


    "He''ll be fine," TK broke the silence, staring up at the blank ceiling.


    "What?"


    "Your guy there, he''ll be fine. He''s not all bad."


    "That''s odd coming from you. Didn''t think that you cared for him much."


    "I don''t," he said, "but I don''t see much of a point in killing him is all. He''s better alive."


    "Is that begrudging respect I hear?"


    "Whatever."


    "He was injured and in that box with Branch, wasn''t he? You had a shot at him and you didn''t take it, did you?"


    "Nope," TK sat up, groaning while he took a deep breath. "My grudge is with Branch, not any of his thugs."


    "Will isn''t a thug, you know. I know that he''s done some... questionable things out there in the arena, but that''s the only life that we know here. It''s what we have to do to survive."


    "How''s that working out?"


    "Fair point," she said, sinking back down with her back to the wall, staring over at Demoreo while he slept in his cell. Every exhale came with a low rumble, inhales with a guttural squeal. Right now, her hopes were pinned on the shoulders of a young boy and his mother. That they''d find a way to see Demoreo again and that they would trigger something inside of him. Branch''s game was mental, hinging on iconography, desire and the illusion of power. Demoreo was a flag-bearer for that power, for his ability to give and control life. If only she could save one soul, she would want it to be Demoreo''s. He had suffered enough.


    "Dad?" An uncertain voice broke through the silence. "Dad, are you in here?"


    "Tyler?" Vera asked, turning towards the ajar door. "Is that you out there?"


    "Umm," the boy poked his head in, wide-eyed and scared, the door obscuring a view of his mutilated father inside of the adjacent cell. "Hey, you''re that lady from the other day, right? What are you doing in here?"


    "Tyler, look at me, alright? Don''t come in here yet."


    "Why are you in a cell like that, and who''s that guy?"


    "This is my friend, TK. Tyler. Stay there for now, okay? I need to know that you''ll be okay. Will you be okay?"If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Sure," he said. "I''m gonna be a guard. You know, I''ve been doing a lot of training. I''ve seen some shit, helped my Ma and Dad get through the wasteland and all."


    "I know, hun," she said, trying to not sound condescending towards him. "You''ve gotta trust me, though. Where''s your mom?"


    "She doesn''t know that I''m here. I don''t think she''d like this, not at all. She''s been crying ever since you stopped by, I read that book you left. All of it."


    "Who''s that?" TK asked. "Is that the kid you were talking about?"


    "Yeah," she answered, keeping her eyes on Tyler to make sure he didn''t enter the room. The angle of the door made it so he could only see into her cell. Not his father''s.


    "Shit," TK said. "Crusher''s kid. That''s rough."


    "TK, you ass," she said. "Don''t¡ª"


    "I told you," Tyler said. "I read the whole thing. So yeah, I know¡­ everything."


    "Tyler, I''m sorry. I wish it wasn''t true, but..."


    "Can I see him?"


    "Promise me you are ready, Tyler. I know you saw some shit out there, but this is your father. Remember that, will you? This is your father, no matter what Branch did to him."


    "Wait, is he here? A few of the other cadets told me about this place, told me it was off-limits and that they heard shit coming from here."


    "Tyler, you''ve gotta stay strong, alright?" Keeping her voice level and calm wasn''t easy considering the circumstances.


    "Is he here?"


    "Yes, he is," she said. "He''s in this room, you just gotta¡ª"


    "Dad!" Tyler burst through the door, stumbling aghast against the concrete wall. "My god..."


    "Tyler," she said. "Remember that it''s still him in there. That''s still your dad, he still loves you."


    "What did they do to him?"


    "I know that this is scary, Tyler."


    "W-what did they do to you, Dad?" The boy inched towards the cell at a crawl, eyes wide open, while Demoreo sat in his cell, watching the boy without a hint of recognition.


    "He might not recognize you, Tyler," she said. "They''ve done a lot to him. He can''t speak anymore, they''ve done things to his mind, he doesn''t even recognize me anymore."


    "But why?"


    "Because he''s a killer," TK said.


    "TK, cut it out," Vera snipped at him.


    "It''s true, Branch turned him into a monster, into his personal killer."


    "But why?" Tyler had his hands on the bars, clasping onto them and staring into the cell. "Why him? What do they need him for?"


    "I don''t know," Vera said. "Branch just does things like this, it shows his power."


    "Branch is the monster," TK said.


    "TK," she looked back at him, trying to calm him down. "Let''s give Tyler some time alone with his father, alright? This has to be difficult for him."


    "Fine." TK laid back down and pulled his jacket up over his face. Tyler continued to kneel in front of the cell, hands glued to the bars and his watery eyes watching while his father¡ªor what was left of him¡ªsat in the cell groaning, the boils and tumors on his stretched out, rubbery skin making him look more beast than human.


    Tyler reached into the cell, Vera having to bite her tongue. Demoreo wouldn''t hurt anyone, especially his son, but how much of him was the Crusher and how much of him was Demoreo she just didn''t know. There seemed to be none of Demoreo left inside of that husk of a person, but this was her play, this was her hope; she hoped that his family could get whatever was left of him to fight through the abyss and shine through. Demoreo sat unflinching, though, only marginally interested in the boy, no familiarity at all in his eyes.


    "Dad, please," there were tears streaming down his cheeks. "Dad, it''s me, Tyler."


    Demoreo turned his head towards Tyler and lurched his massive body towards him, walking on his hands in the cramped cell. They were face-to-face, Tyler shivering, tears streaming down his cheeks while what was left of his father breathed through his nose on the teen. Tyler stayed in place, though, both terrified and showing strength beyond his years, strength that was no doubt forged out in the wasteland while helping his father, mother and sister to navigate the hellscape of the living dead and the savage living.


    "Dad, please."


    The boy was sobbing, Vera wishing that she could reach out and hold him, to tell him that everything would be alright even though she knew it wouldn''t. "God, I''m sorry Tyler," she said. "This was a stupid plan. A stupid, stupid plan. I''m so sorry."


    "That''s why you don''t fuck with other people''s lives," TK said.


    "Oh fuck off, TK." A commotion came from down the hall, Tyler looking at Vera in a panic. "Tyler, run."


    "Where do I go?"


    "Sounds like they are coming from the hall. Go through the labs." She urged him on. The boy darted into the lab just as the metal door swung open and Jordan Branch marched into the room, Stuart and Viktor at his side.


    "I don''t want to hear it," Branch looked down at Vera, who was just about to speak. "Ms. Maia, I am here for Mr. Gabriel."


    TK sat up and stretched out, doing his best to hide the pain from the bullet wound.


    "Of course, Mr. Cool will pretend to act like what he did wasn''t a big deal, but it was, Mr. Gabriel. You dare oppose me! You dare come after me in front of my people like that? Oh, you believe yourself to be a clever one, don''t you? Don''t you?"


    "Well, I¡ª"


    "Silence!" Branch shouted. "You want to put on a grand show for the people, you want to be Mr. Action Hero, don''t you? That''s all that you know. How could I have been so foolish as to believe that you were a logical man, a smart man who knew when he had it good? You had it good here, TK. On top of the new world, my new world, and you blew it. You blew it and there''s no going back. These people they may love you now, but I''m the reason that they are here. I''m the reason that they aren''t out in the wasteland as the shambling undead, or worse, and they will remember that once I''ve spilled your blood on the arena. Yes, me, TK. I will put an end to this once and for all."


    "I think I got to him," TK said to Vera, Vera remaining still, unable to formulate a response. It was best to stay quiet and to keep her life than to have a death wish like Gabriel did.


    "You insolent little¡ª"


    "Boss," Stuart held him back. "Save that for tomorrow in the arena."


    "If you thought your wife was a moral conundrum, you fool, wait until tomorrow night!"


    Vera watched while Branch stomped off, Stuart and Viktor close behind, the door slamming shut before she scanned around the room to see if Tyler had escaped or not. She didn''t see him, which hopefully meant that he could slip out through the lab undetected. That didn''t mask the fact that her plan had failed, and that Branch had lost his mind. Tomorrow felt like judgement day, not just for TK, but for everyone.


    "What do you think happens tomorrow?" She asked out loud, not expecting a reply.


    "Judgement day."

 32. The Doctor

    If this were a sane world, Dr. Faraday would have never had to see Tom in such a condition. She was a pediatrician, not a trauma doctor. Sure, there were quite a few instances where being a doctor was valuable in the wasteland. People needed to be patched up, and she could give a list of drugs to find when raiding abandoned towns, but not since her clinical rotations had she dealt with the same sort of uncertainty and fear that she had seen since the fall. Yet there she was, standing over him, trying to patch him up to go fight.


    "Bill," she called over to the bloated man, his gut looking larger and more grotesque today without his overalls straps up, "this is ridiculous. He''s in no condition to fight."


    "Ain''t my problem," he spat, a stream of black tar on the ground.


    "Look at him," she motioned towards Tom, laid out on a bench and doing his best to control his breathing and remain calm, "he''s going to die out there."


    "Just like many have died before him in the arena. It''s a great honor or some shit."


    "Can you call Stuart over here?"


    "Ain''t my problem, Doc."


    "Have some humanity, Bill, I..."


    "He''s right." Tom''s arm jutted out, catching her hand while she wrapped up his midsection. "Just doing his job."


    "This is insanity, Tom," she rushed to the locker that has been doubling as her medicine cabinet, rummaging around for some painkillers. "I can''t give you anything stronger than ibuprofen or you might be groggy out there. I can try to..."


    "That''s fine." He snatched the bottle from her hands, pouring a few pills straight into his mouth and gulping hard. "I''ll deal."


    "You are a stubborn, stupid man, you know that?"


    "Something like that," he picked himself up, using the lockers behind him to stay steady on his feet. Nothing about this was good.


    "Just be careful, okay? Branch wants your head."


    "We''re all his puppets at this point, Doc."


    "Alright, Gabriel, yer up."


    Tom nodded at her, gripping onto her shoulder while he walked by. She wanted to believe out of sentiment, not to keep his balance, but neither one would surprise her. Tom was always putting on a show. This was just perhaps his last act. Sending him out into the arena with a bullet lodged in his side and patching him up wasn''t anything but cruelty. She leaned up against the wall, looking out into the arena as Tom walked out towards a lone figure in the middle of the killing floor.


    "Mr. Gabriel," Branch''s voice boomed throughout the arena. "So nice of you to join us."


    Tom stopped in his tracks when he realized who was standing across from him. He was shouting something, but the raucous crowd washed it out.


    "Come, come, TK," Branch goaded. "You believe you are better than us, better than everyone here in this wonderful arena in my new world. You want to destroy us..." He paused, letting a rolling chorus of boos start. The crowd was behind Branch, looking down into the pit of the arena while stood dumbfounded by the wave of negative reaction from the crowd. It was all a part of the show. "Now, today, right now, is the harrowing of TK Gabriel. You thought you''d get off easy? Of course not, because I, Jordan Branch, am the judge, jury and executioner."


    Of course, it was him. He wouldn''t have it any other way. All of it was a big, dumb show. He was wearing his suit, along with a long, gilded cape hung over his shoulders. The smile on his face was unmistakable, if not a bit too big, a bit too rehearsed for how he felt. To step into the ring against Tom was a big step for him, especially after he had gotten under his skin, it seemed. That was a good thing, but whatever he had planned would not be a good thing.


    "You motherfucker," TK said, his voice being picked up by a boom microphone that a man was panicking to get into place. All a part of the show.


    "You think you are so special, TK?" Branch said away from his microphone, only muffled beats being picked up for the crowd. Inside of Bill''s den it came through clearly on their speakers. "Tonight I fuck you. Live in front of all to see. They think you are strong, but you aren''t. You are just another one of my pawns."


    "Bring it on," TK advanced towards Branch. Dr. Faraday could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, built on the belief that Tom could do it; he could defeat Branch right there unless Branch had any more tricks up his sleeve.


    "Hold it right there, Mr. Gabriel," Branch gripped the microphone tightly, speaking not just to him, but to the entire crowd. They were all in the palm of his hand, both figuratively and literally. "While our epic battle is what everyone wants to see, is it not?" He played to the crowd that cheered at his showmanship. "You see, they know me, TK. They know that Jordan Branch delivers on his promises, just like all of this is my promise to all of them, just like it was my promise to you. A new tomorrow! A future amidst the ruins. Yet you think you are better than all of this, all of us... Just like your friends."


    TK''s eyes lit up. "What did you do now?"


    "Don''t pretend like you don''t know, Mr. Gabriel. You tried to bring this all down, you tried to ruin all of this. But I knew, oh, I knew all along. Bring out his co-conspirators!"


    A small procession of guards emerged from the right gate, the first carrying a long wooden stake, driving it into the ground and tugging on it a few times before giving a nod towards the gate, another two guards walking out with a few huddled figures behind them, followed by another pair of guards. The procession led that girl, Vera, in chains alongside a boy and what looked like his mother. Those had to be Crusher''s family that she had heard about.


    "That''s not right," Dr. Faraday mumbled under her breath, looking around in a panic. "This isn''t right, Bill, where''s Stuart? I have to talk to him and¡ª"


    "Shut it," he snapped. "Yer only here because Stu vouched for ya, ya know that? Otherwise you''d be in chains as well." That hit her, hard. There she was, helpless, watching it all unfold, and she was under someone''s protection.


    "C''mon, Branch," TK said. "They''ve done nothing to you. I don''t even know that kid or the woman."


    "Oh, but you do," he said, once again trying to speak away from the microphone. "That boy we caught in the basement, trying to escape from the lab. His mother, well, that''s collateral damage. You think you could take my monster away from me? Fool."


    "No. You''re the fool."


    "Tonight," Branch paced in a circle, speaking into the microphone with much bravado, "tonight I give you a choice, Mr. Gabriel. I''m the big bad wolf, aren''t I? I''m the monster. Yet you and these three..." He motioned at the three of them, chained to the post in the ground. "They tried to take all of this away from us. You have a choice now, Gabriel."


    "Oh, fuck off already."


    "Ah huh, Mr. Gabriel. Listen and listen carefully. You have a choice. You can save your co-conspirators¡¯ lives, or you can clash with me right here. That''s a rather simple choice, isn''t it?" The crowd was pounding their feet in unison, it gathering up like a groundswell into a rhythmic wave of energy pulsating throughout the whole arena, their chants emerging as "Kill him, kill him, kill him" in unison with the pounding of their feet.


    "Save them from what, dying of boredom at listening to you talk?" Vera shouted at the top of her lungs.


    "Oh, right," Branch said. "How silly of me, from HER."


    A chill ran down her spine, the sound of rattling chains coming from that same door, the guards leading out another figure. She already knew who it was and knew what it did to Tom last time. His wife, the one that he had spoken about when they first met, out there, her decaying, mutated face gnarled at him. "You don''t...."


    "What''s wrong, TK, can''t think of a clever one-liner?"


    "You don''t... fuck with my family."


    "It''s too late. Time to decide; do you come after me, or do you save these three by destroying her?"


    The guards clipped the chain on the shambling monster that was inhabiting his wife''s body, scrambling back to the door while she let out a scream. She was yards away from the three captives, who were chained up, all screaming out for him to help them.


    "TK," Vera said. "Just get me loose somehow. I''ll figure this out, just... They don''t deserve this."


    Dr. Faraday was in disbelief. That could have just as easily been Elsie, and herself chained up out there, if she hadn''t befriended Stuart, if she had spoken out more and stood up for Tom, maybe. A wave of guilt hit her; she should be out there, but she didn''t have the guts to.


    "So what''ll it be, TK? She''s heading towards them right now. Save your friends, or exact your revenge on me?"


    "Who says that I have to choose?"


    "Naturally, I do. Your life, you see, is over either way. So do you save them and die, or kill me and die?"


    Of what she knew of Tom, that was what was running through his head right now, anyway. Something about how he left felt like a finality. TK never saw himself walking out of that arena, nor did anyone else. From the moment that he stepped foot onto those sands, he knew it would be his tomb, but he couldn''t have guessed that he would have to worry about saving other lives in the process. His side still ached. With every step forward, he was slow, hand clutched at his side. Branch stood a mere matter of feet away from Tom, a smug smile on his face while the shambling corpse of Tom''s wife made her way towards the screaming trio chained up to a post, the rhythm of the crowd setting a sort of sick music into motion.


    Poised like a cobra ready to strike, Tom lurched back before he was ready to strike, but the piercing screams coming from the prisoners were difficult to phase out. She could see it in his movements; he wanted nothing more than to rip Branch apart, limb-by-limb, but his humanity was rearing its head, like it did out in the wasteland when he saved Elsie and herself. There was still a good man in there beneath that broken veneer of a survivor. If there ever was a situation that seemed impossible, this was it.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Oh come now," Branch tsked into the microphone. "Is this what the hero would do? Let the innocent die," he said while forming air quotes with his fingers around the word innocent, "just to prove some archaic point? Come now, Gabriel. You know that I''ve won!"


    Another hard swallow.


    "Is this what an action hero does in real life? Come on, you worthless, arrogant asshole! You know you want to save the day."


    Tom stepped towards Branch, which took Branch by surprise, him stumbling back a step.


    "She''s getting closer, closer and... for fuck''s sake!" Branch shouted, pacing nervously, his face reddening while sweat beaded up on his forehead. "I have given you a choice, Gabriel!"


    "And I choose not to play your sick game."


    "My game," Branch strode up to Gabriel, getting up in his face, trying to regain his composure. "My game is the only game that there is in town. It''s your only option."


    "I refuse."


    "You can''t refuse!" He shouted at him, a vein bulging in his otherwise pristine forehead, spit flying from his mouth. "You aren''t allowed to refuse!"


    "Yet--"


    Slap. Branch had reared back and slapped him with his gloved left hand, his face a deep shade of maroon while the crowd was calling for Branch to keep going, to unload on Gabriel. TK took a deep breath and turned back to face Branch again. Branch followed with a series of slaps, one, two, three in a row, unable to keep his temper in check anymore. He pulled back for another slap, only for Gabriel to lurch forward and connect with his forehead on the bridge of Branch''s nose, sending him reeling back.


    He launched at Branch with his fist, aiming squarely for the jaw of the tyrant. In a flash, Branch lifted his cape, it stiffening, the sun glistening off of it and almost blinding her while she watched, mouth agape. Tom hit the cape like a brick wall, stumbling backwards after attempting a strike. Another flash and they danced in the air, creating a bright red streak that cut through the air before staining the sand red. Tom instinctively fell to one knee while he looked up at Branch, laughing maniacally with a small dagger in his hand, blood dripping from it and staining the ground beneath him.


    "You fool," Branch spat, the crowd falling silent. "Like it could be that easy."


    TK slowly picked himself up, holding his hand over the wound. By the looks of it, Branch had missed the bullet wound but hit just below it, which was still too much for a man in his condition. What was that cape? That is why he felt so comfortable out there with Tom. Gathering himself up, Tom stumbled back towards Vera and the other prisoners, his wife dangerously close to them, hissing and clawing away while they all screamed in horror.


    "Yes, run to them, TK, run to them," Branch goaded him. "Before it''s too late!"


    "TK," Vera was crying out over the crowd noise. "Just get us off of the post, okay?"


    "Yeah, I''m trying," he said, "I''ll figure something out." From a distance, she could see an idea forming in his mind, the look on his face of concentration. "Hey, you. Yeah. I''m over here."


    With that, the undead corpse of his wife paused and turned her mangled head towards him. A part of her broke at the sight of him staring at his deceased wife like that. For all of those years, he rode with her remains strapped to his bike, and this was the result. Unlike the stance he took against Branch, he stood loose while she approached him. From a distance, it seemed like she could feel the emotions that were burning inside of him.


    "I''ve forgotten a lot of things over the years," he said. "I''ve forgotten to clean up after myself, I''ve forgotten appointments and today I''ve forgotten what I wanted to say to you. Jess, I tried. I really tried, but you know that already, otherwise you wouldn''t be marrying me today. Lots of people consider you lucky, because you have me. On the contrary," tears were streaming down his cheeks, the crowd quiet while his voice echoed throughout the warm Las Vegas night. "I''m the lucky one, in every sense of the word. Never did I imagine that I''d find someone like you, someone who loved me for who I was, not who they wanted me to be or who I portrayed myself to be.


    "You, Jess," he wiped his eyes with the back of his bloody right hand, "you''ve been my reason to keep going, my reason to have faith that there is more to life than I ever thought. My dearest Jess." TK reached his hand out towards her face, her snarling and nipping at him, him holding steady. "I love you without measure. I will forever walk this Earth knowing that I was the luckiest man that ever lived. Thank you, Jess. Thank you."


    His trembling hand reached her face, resting on the hardened flesh of her cheek, the kind of tender touch that came from years of intimacy, although there was a hollow feeling of finality in the air. She snarled again, snapping at his wrist, him pulling his hand away while her hands reached out for him, taking swipes only to narrowly miss. When she came in for another attack, he reached up and grabbed her gnarled hair, using her own momentum to pull her head down while he lifted his left knee up, colliding with a sickening crack.


    The monster stumbled back, letting out a distorted scream only to keep coming towards him. He needed a weapon, needed to end this while he still had the strength to continue. To keep distance, he kept using his left leg, slamming the toe of his boot into her stomach only for the boot to break through the flesh and get caught inside. She pushed forward, sending him crashing to the ground, his foot lodged in the zombified corpse of his wife. What was left of her innards was dripping down his leg, spilling out while the wound blossomed. TK retched. Dr. Faraday clutched to the chain-link fence until the metal was digging into her fingers. He kicked his right leg out towards her, connecting on her shoulder and pushing her back just a bit.


    He kicked again, only this time her fingers grasped onto his leg. TK continued to kick, her body somehow withstanding natural decay and the force of his blows. That was what Branch did. That was his specialty; turning the dead into abominations. This one could be the end of him. How poetic that would be; dying at the decaying hands of his wife after reciting those tearful words for what was left of the world to hear. With one great push with both legs, he heaved, the sound of cracking and her body giving way to his left boot while it slid from the cavity in her chest, the viscera serving as a lubricant. She fell onto her back, hissing and convulsing in a tantrum.


    "TK, I know this isn''t the best time, but hurry," Vera called to him.


    Fighting through the waves of pain, TK crawled over to the three of them chained to the post, pulling himself up and surveying the chains that bound them. They had sent him out there without as much as a pillow to defend himself with, never mind break those chains. "I can''t break this," he said.


    "What about the goddamned thing I made you?"


    "No charge pack."


    "Fucking Branch," she muttered. "That was beautiful back there, by the way."


    "Thanks," he said.


    "I don''t mean to be breaking up this moment here," Tyler''s mom said, "but that thing is getting up."


    "That thing is my wife," TK said.


    "Like I said..."


    "TK, it''s fine, just... I don''t know, if you can''t break it, could you slide the chain over the post or something?"


    "Without breaking all of your arms? I don''t know."


    "Oh, this is charming," Branch boomed over the sound system, trying to sound in control but teetering on the edge of insanity. "Looks like dearest wife is getting back on her feet, TK. She looks hungry, what with her guts all spilled all over the place and all."


    "Fuck!" TK said, slamming his fist against the chain, then kicking it a few times, to no avail. "Fuck fuck fuck!"


    "Calm down, TK," Vera said. "I need you to calm down and think. Think, TK."


    "I am thinking. I can''t break this chain."


    "What if we pulled the post out of the ground?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "They just drove it into the ground, right? If we all move together, we can feel it shake a bit, it can''t be that deep into the ground."


    "I... Let me see," TK got down onto one knee, tucking the post under his shoulder while he reached down towards the base, gripping tightly with both hands. With a mighty heave, he pulled, the post budging only a fraction, but enough that she could see it wobbling from behind the fence. With one more mighty heave, it looked like he had it until he collapsed to a knee and clutched at his side.


    "TK? TK, what happened?" Vera called back to him.


    "I got it to budge, but I''m too hurt. He stabbed me right where I got shot. I can''t do it. I just can''t... I..."


    "Tyler, Shar, look at me, look at me," Vera said. "I''m going to grip onto the post. I need to both of you to do the same, okay? Grip and kneel with me, okay?"


    "Okay," Tyler said.


    "I guess," Shar added.


    "Just trust me with this. TK? TK, are you back there?"


    "Yeah, I''m here," he said.


    "We''re gonna help, but you still need to do the bulk of this and fast, she''s almost up."


    "Fuck, fuck," he said under his breath, taking another grip on the post while the three of them did the same. "On three, okay?"


    "Got it."


    "One... Two... Three, HEAVE," he said, the four of them pulling, the post tearing up only for him to once again stumble back and lose his grip. Dr. Faraday gasped at the scene, wanting to shield her eyes but knowing that it was no good. This was happening whether she watched or turned away. "One more time, okay?"


    "TK, we gotta do this now. She''s up again! Hurry!"


    "One last go, now, pull, pull!" The four of them pulled again, this time the post shooting out from the ground, the inertia sending the three of them crashing back onto him while Branch cackled over the arena''s sound system.


    "Oh, how brilliant!" Branch shouted towards them, rustling his fingers through his usually perfect hair, leaving it a disheveled mess.


    "I have to get out there, I have to help them." Dr. Faraday mumbled to herself, surveying the area for any sort of weapon. There was a wrench in her locker with the medical supplies, a holdover from whoever was attempting to handle the wellbeing of combatants before her, but it would have to do. She headed for the mighty door, only for Bill to step in front of her.


    "Now where d''ya think yer goin''?" Bill asked.


    "They need help, damnit!"


    "You do an'' I make a call. You don''t want me doin'' that, do ya?"


    "Grr, you monster," she grit her teeth. "That''s a child out there! A child!"


    "Do you need me to lock you up, doc?"


    He snatched the wrench from her hand and slapped it across his palm a few times, testing the weight before holding it up to her cheek, the cool metal smooth against her face. She stood, defiant, while he threatened her. The mighty lummox let out a roar of a laugh while he walked off, leaving her alone once again.


    "TK! TK she''s coming!"


    He slipped out from underneath the pile while Tyler''s mother, Shar, was retreating from Jess''s corpse, her claws scratching Shar''s leg, shredding her pants while thick red lines formed in her wake. Shar let out a scream while TK picked himself up, the post in hand. Smack, he swung the post in an arc; it connecting with his wife''s shoulder, sending her back away from the three in chains.


    TK gathered himself before launching another attack at the monster that was his wife, this one sending her back again. Finally, he pulled the long post back like a spear, driving it through her stomach and towards the wall of the arena. She clawed at him, snarling in rage, her bones snapping and cracking while she came closer, gripping onto the post and pulling herself towards him. With a jerk, he pulled it free, planting his boot into what remained of her midsection and against the wall again.


    "I''m sorry, my love," he said before driving the giant stake straight into her skull. The sickening cracking of her skull and the screech that filled the arena sent chills down her spine. TK fell back, watching as her body twitched, stuck to the wall of the arena and fell silent. Her heart ached, her eyes stung from the tears, sweat, and sand. He was down on his knees in front of her, gripping onto her hand. "No!" He cried out.


    "My god," Branch said, feeling his grasp on the crowd slipping. There was more confusion than excitement. Their chants for Branch to slaughter TK had long-since died off instead for small clusters of cheers for whenever TK succeeded. "What a tender, heartbreaking moment that was. Save the weak, slaughter the monster, overcoming your fears and injuries. Truly a moment out of a movie, Mr. Gabriel."


    "Fuck you," TK growled like a man possessed. "Fuck you, I''m going to fucking rip you apart."


    "C¡¯mon, Gabriel!" A man shouted from the stands.


    "So valiant, so dashing," Branch said. TK stumbled back up to his feet, only for Branch to laugh again, staring up at the stands towards where there was a group of people cheering for TK. "Look at you, you are a mess. What a sad sack you are."


    "I''m strong enough to end you."


    "Maybe you are," Branch said, "but you haven''t quite saved your friends yet."


    "You piece of shit," TK spoke through the rage.


    "Bring them out," Branch said, the door where his wife had emerged from creaking open, a small group of the undead streaming out into the arena, hissing and snarling away. "Oh, it''ll be quite the day for you, Mr. Gabriel."


    The few guards that were herding the undead huddled around Branch, assault rifles at the ready, keeping the new horde off of their god while he cackled and hurled insults towards TK. TK stumbled back towards Vera and Demoreo''s family, looking at them while they retreated to one corner of the arena.


    "I''m sorry," he said. "I''m truly sorry. I did all that I could. I''ll keep fighting, but I can''t take them all, I just..."


    "It''s okay, TK," Vera said. "We know."


    A mighty roar made the doctor freeze in place. The sound of banging on the door across from the arena gave her pause. She recognized the roar, the power, and the raw rage anywhere. The iron door dented, the roar filling the air again before it burst open; the door flying out like a rocket before slamming onto the ground.


    "Dad?" Tyler said. "Dad!"


    The Crusher let out a mighty roar as he stomped out into the setting sun over the arena. Hell had broken loose.

 33. The Brawler

    Herding the Crusher through the hallways of the arena was perhaps the most difficult thing that Will had ever done, especially with one arm. A trail of wreckage led from his cell to the door of the arena, but standing in the light of the setting sun, watching the Crusher slam that door down and stomp into the arena just in the nick of time, it all felt like a brilliant plan had come together. The gauntlet had a full charge. He only needed the one good arm, but he was sure glad that Crusher''s attention had turned towards everything that was unfolding inside of the arena.


    Letting him out was the only thing that Will could think of doing, the only way that he could save Vera. Jumping into the arena¡ªbum arm or not¡ªwouldn''t have been much help. He knew the horde that Branch kept at his disposal, never mind the security staff that were armed-to-the-teeth. There wasn''t anything else in the world that he feared quite like the Crusher. No matter what Branch had done to him, no matter what kind of control he had over the monster, Vera believed that there was some good left inside of him, and if there was, Will was about to find out.


    The Crusher was on a rampage, destroying everything in his path. Branch and his goons focused on him, trying to wrest control of the magnificent beast before he destroyed everything. That was as good of a chance as ever for Will to dash across the arena towards Vera, who reamined bound while Gabriel was fending off as many of the undead as he could on his own. A few stragglers turned their focus to Will, him flicking the switch on his gauntlet and feeling the power surge through it. Favoring his left shoulder he charged in towards the first, his right fist connecting with the first shot, the mangled face of what once was a man didn''t have time to react before the familiar crack of an impact and splat as his remains rained down on the ground steeled Will''s resolve to keep moving.


    Killing the undead was never a hard task. He had learned how to do it artfully throughout his run in the arena, especially with an explosive glove strapped onto his fist. Another three fell to his right hand, one-after-the-other, while he skirted along the far edge of the arena. His heart was pounding, and he wanted to run, to sprint to Vera and help to free her, but he knew better than to make such a mistake. Taking his attention away from the horde of undead, the rich, power-hungry man-god and his muscle, or even the great beast that he had created and was currently dissecting anyone who dared oppose him in a fit or rage could mean the end of his life.


    Branch was barking orders at his men, sending them to their doom against the Crusher who seemed to have his eyes fixated on Branch the entire time, clawing his way through hordes of the stray undead that weren''t attacking Gabriel and Vera''s party, as well as guards that were trying to pop off shots at the Crusher while Branch shouted for them not to kill him. One of the armored guards let out a bloodcurdling cry as the Crusher squeezed him in his massive hand, the sound of his ribs cracking one-by-one filling the air with the general horror of the scene before the screaming stopped and Crusher spat his helmet to the ground. A tremor ran through Will''s body, knowing what kind of power the Crusher had at his disposal.


    "Will!" Vera called out, the distance between them shrinking by the second. "Will thank god."


    "Vera," he said, feeling a claw tug at his shoulder, spinning around to find himself face-to-face with a ghoul. He sunk his elbow into the former-man''s midsection and smashed him across the jaw with the back of his right fist, not getting a full impact, but it still enough to crush its skull and send it crashing to the ground. "Fuckin'' wanker."


    "TK needs your help, Will," she said.


    "I see that," he said, rushing to her side and embracing her, only for her to tap her knee against his groin.


    "Then get me free already and help him."


    "Fuckin'' hell," he muttered, glancing back at the chains. "So uh, I need everyone to sit down so I can get a hold of ''em."


    "Christ, Will," Vera said. "Can you even try to be friendly?"


    "Do ya see what''s goin'' on?"


    "Fine, fine, Tyler. I need you to sit down with me. Shar, just stay still, okay?"


    "Okay," she said, a makeshift tourniquet torn from Tyler''s once-gray, now-deep red shirt wrapped around her leg. Tyler sat down next to Vera. Will pulled the chains tight and crashed his fist down onto the lock, which exploded on impact.


    "You''re free," he said. "Now what?"


    "Help TK, damnit."


    "Oh, right." Will turned to TK, who was doubled over. "Mate, I dunno what to say but..."


    "Do you have a charge pack?" He asked.


    "What? Err, one''uh these?" He held out his glove.


    "Yeah, I don''t have one," TK said.


    "Just the one, but uhh¡ª"


    "Pass it over, get them back to safety. You shouldn''t need it. I''ll fend them off, I just need a charge pack." Gabriel got back to his feet just in time to plant a kick to the midsection of the monstrosity, sending it toppling back into three others, them all falling to the ground. "Please."


    "Oh c''mon," Vera tugged the charge pack out from his gauntlet, tossing it to Gabriel. "Let''s just go while we have a chance."


    "Fine, fine," he said, scanning around, looking for a way out. The only way that he saw was where he came from with the Crusher, but now he was ferrying a kid, Vera and a woman with some sort of injury, all of this without a charge pack for his gauntlet.


    "You''re gonna need to help carry Shar, though," she said while helping the woman to her feet. "She got hit pretty badly."


    "She ain''t gonna turn, right?" He looked at Vera, supporting the woman. "Right?"


    "No, she''s not going to turn," she said. "She got scratched, not bitten. Come and help me already."


    "You didn''t think that it''d be this easy?" Branch was shouting over the intercom. "Did you?"You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Will did his best to ignore it while he pulled Shar''s arm up over his bad shoulder, leaving his right arm free in case he needed to swat at someone on the way to the door. The door was a long walk, especially carrying someone wounded. Vera could take care of herself, but she was looking out for the kid. "This whole thing is fucked," he muttered.


    "Keep it to yourself, Will," Vera whispered into his ear. "They need us to be strong."


    "That they''ll just be able to walk free from this? Oh no, TK, they won''t walk free."


    TK was defiant, mowing through the undead with the fresh charge pack attached to his explosive shin guard. Will''s urge to join the fight was strong, but he knew he needed to sit this one out, to just get them across to safety and then who know''s where. This wasn''t the most thought-out plan, he admitted, but he had to do something. He couldn''t just let Vera die out there, not after all that she had done for him. This would most likely be the last thing he did as long as Branch was alive inside of that arena, or as a resident of the Tower. They''d have to find somewhere else to stay. But what about Stuart? Oh, Stuart.


    The woman was wailing while they dragged her, sidling against the wall as best that they could, TK behind them and against the other wall, doing his best to lure all the undead towards him while they escaped. Still in shock, the boy was sullen, but still moving and remaining quiet. Crusher was slowing down, Branch''s guards zapping him with shock sticks while he writhed against the wall.


    "Dad!" the boy shouted.


    "Shut ''em up, Vera," Will said.


    "Dad no!"


    "Baby, that isn''t your daddy anymore," the woman said through the tears. "Your daddy is gone."


    "No, he''s not, mom, he''s right there and they are killing him!"


    "Ver, we gotta keep goin''," Will said.


    "C''mon, Tyler," Vera grabbed his hand. "We''ve gotta keep going, we''re almost there."


    "Dad! No!" The boy broke free, dashing towards the scene while the rest stood in disbelief.


    "Tyler, no!" Vera called out.


    "He''s gonna get us all killed!"


    "Will, go after him. I''ll watch after her," Vera said, Will letting go of the boy''s mother while the weight shifted onto Vera.


    "With what?"


    "I don''t know, just figure something out! Hurry!"


    The boy was rushing towards the group, Will dashing after him, shouting for him to stop, to no avail. Whatever the Crusher was now, that was at one point his father and the boy seemed to be magnetically attracted to him after believing him to be dead for so long. He didn''t envy the kid, but he also didn''t want to die inside of the arena, in fact, he had thought he''d rule over it for years to come, or at least become a legend who got fat and drunk in the stands watching kids kill each other to live up to his name. Instead, he was chasing down a kid who threatened to end all of them because he couldn''t control his shit.


    "Isn''t this touching?" Branch cackled like a madman. "Is that your daddy, boy? Watch him writhe! He''s weak, he''s a tool for me! He never even put up a fight!"


    "No, dad!" the kid shouted. "Let him go."


    "The balls on this one." Branch stood before the boy, holding his goons back. "You dare oppose me? I''m Jordan Branch, boy. All of this is mine, including your life and the life of that mother of yours. See this hand?" He held out his hand towards him, clenching it into a fist. "I can crush it whenever I damned well please, and right now seems as good of a time as any."


    "Fuck off, already," Will said, out of breath.


    "Oh Mr. Farrington," Branch said, his demeanor taking a turn towards the morose. "I hadn''t forgotten about you and how you''ve disappointed me."


    The popping sounds from the small, controlled explosions being set off by Gabriel''s shin guard were growing closer, Will glancing over his shoulder to see him, covered in gore, but making his way towards them, doing his best to distract Branch''s guards and Branch, to no avail. Branch was standing in front of the boy, who was staring up at him in defiance. The boy lunged at Branch, only for him to pull his cape in front of him, Tyler smashing against it and crashing to the ground.


    "You see?" Branch stood over him. "Weak, just like your father."


    "No!" Tyler shouted, springing to his feet and rushing at Branch again. Will tried to reach out for him, but it was too late. Branch''s cape flashed again, only this time the blades along the bottom ripped into the boy''s midsection, his cry filling the air before his body tumbled to the dirt. A bright red gash opened up across his stomach. Blood oozing out, Will slid to his knees, diving onto the boy, shielding him with his body.


    "Move, Farrington!"


    "Fuck off, ye cunt," Will spat up at him.


    "The boy must die," Branch said.


    "I''ll not let you touch ''em again."


    "So be it," Branch said, gripping onto his cape only for Stuart to grab a hold of his wrist, stopping him from attacking. "What the...?"


    "That''s my brother, boss."


    "I don''t care," Branch shoved Stuart to the ground. "Do your job or you''ll die with him."


    "Dad..." Tyler whispered, coughing and holding his stomach, repeating it louder and louder yet. "Dad! Dad!"


    The Crusher paused, a flurry of bullets slamming him against the wall with a mighty thud. He turned towards Will and Tyler, a sense of dread filling Will up. The boy thought he was helping, but Will knew better. That wasn''t his dad anymore. That was Branch''s killing machine. He had brought him out here as a distraction, but if that mind-control device kicked in again, Branch would have him under his command again, and this plan would have turned to shit.


    "Kid, shut it," Will said. "We don''t want him comin'' near us."


    "Dad!" Tyler shouted, louder now.


    The Crusher roared out, slamming his giant fists down onto the shoulder of a nearby guard, his body buckling under the blow and folding up, bones crushing like twigs under the force of Crusher''s power. The beast sprinted towards them, his feet pounding against the ground, growing louder with each step like a tidal wave, Will waiting for him to crash into them. Branch panicked, pulling Stuart up and pushing him towards Crusher while Branch rushed towards the nearest door. The guards that could come to their senses fired at Crusher, but his mighty fists swung from side to side, sending them flying in both directions, parting them like he was cutting through water in a boat.


    Stuart dove out of the way of Crusher''s fist, him and Will locking eyes, Will thought for the last time. He stood over Will, as imposing as ever, blood and gore staining his body, face and fists, his lungs heaving and the hot breath running through Will''s hair. "You can''t hurt ''em, Crusher. You can''t hurt the boy."


    Crusher stood there, glaring down at him, before his hand probed down towards Will. Will primed his right hand, but remembered that he had given his charge to Gabriel. This was it, wasn''t it? He might as well die a hero after all of that. He pulled himself up to his feet and went to swing his right hand up towards Crusher, only for Crusher to catch his punch in his palm and brush Will off onto his back. Crusher loomed over his boy, the boy breathing heavily and trying to stay calm, but the look of panic was clear on his face. That wasn''t his father staring down at him. It was something different and far more sinister.


    "Dad?" Tyler squeaked out.


    Crusher leaned in close, sniffing at him before he stopped, inspecting the gash across Tyler''s stomach, then making eye contact with him. Tyler stayed calm, reaching his hand up towards Crusher''s face.


    "Dad," he said. "I miss you."


    The beast stumbled back at the boy''s touch, letting out not a moan, not a groan or a scream, but a cry. It was heart wrenching, pained, confused and the raucous arena fell silent at it. The guards stopped attacking, everyone just watched while Branch''s creation came to terms with its humanity, or lack thereof. Stuart crawled over to Will, the brothers clasping hands.


    "We gotta get the fuck outta here," Stuart muttered.


    "Aye," Will said. "Help me with the boy."


    "Lookit ''em," Stuart said. "He''s already dead."


    "Maybe, maybe not. Just help me, you cunt."


    Stuart didn''t reply, helping Will to his feet before the both of them tended to the boy. The cut wasn''t too deep, but Will still pulled his jersey off and wrapped it around the boy''s waist just the same. That was his favorite jersey, one from before the fall. Not that it mattered now, anyway. Keeping the kid¡¯s guts inside of him was what was important. He looked around and didn''t see Vera, which meant she made it to the back. They draped the boy''s arms over their shoulders and lifted him up, Will keeping a keen eye on the Crusher while he agonized on the ground. Everyone in a state of chaos.

 34. The Doctor

    Chaos was the religion of the moment. Branch had been defied and was running for his life. Bill had quickly opened the door into his den to allow Branch to escape from the fighting only for the billionaire to stumble in, fighting to catch his breath. He gripped onto Bill''s overalls to keep himself up while Bill reached out and steadied him.


    "It''s safe through here, boss," Bill said.


    "Safe? Safe?" Branch was in disbelief. "Did you see that? Did you see what they were doing? Gabriel, that motherfucker, my god, I just... Safe?"


    "Aye, they won''t make it through here. I promise ya that, I''ve got a wrench here with Gabriel''s name on it." He smacked the wrench he had threatened Dr. Faraday with into his open palm.


    "Give me that." He snatched it from his subordinate''s hands, Bill relenting his grip to his boss before Branch inspected it and unloaded on his face, the wrench cracking across his skull, sending blood splattering all over. The hulk of a man stayed standing, holding his jaw before Branch smacked him again, again and again. Bill fell to a knee while Branch continued to rain down blows on him until he was on the ground, and his skull was misshapen beyond recognition. Branch spat on him, tossing the wrench to the ground before unfurling his pocket square and dabbing at his blood-speckled forehead. "Fucking dullard."


    The billionaire attempted to regain his composure, the chaotic destruction of the arena almost deafening, from the screams to the gunshots. After a deep breath he straightened out his newly red-speckled-yellow-tie and stepped over the body of Handsome Bill like it was a fallen tree in his way on the sidewalk, striding towards the door before he noticed Dr. Faraday huddled in a corner, shaking and covered in Bill''s blood.


    "Ah yes," he cleared his throat, "Dr. Faraday. Truly a splendid day, isn''t it? Do give my regards to Mr. Gabriel, won''t you?"


    There he stood, waiting for her response. All she could manage to do was give a sheepish nod, waiting for him to attack her. The blow never came, though. Instead, Branch dusted himself off, straightened out his suit and meandered out of the den, leaving her and the corpse of Handsome Bill alone in what was both his home and his grave. It was a fitting end for a life that turned into a mire of violence and depravity, yet the loss of life still felt worthless, even if it was Bill. Standing seemed out of the question for her, her legs weak and the air oppressively heavy when a pounding on the door from the arena made her jump.


    More pounding, including some muffled shouting, but everything was a blur thanks to the ensuing chaos. Dr. Faraday scrambled around for something¡ªanything¡ªthat she could use to protect herself. The purpose of Handsome Bill''s den was to outfit and equip combatants, yet there was nothing lying around. He was good at his job; she supposed. There, hanging from his belt, was his key loop, including the keys to the weapons locker. Taking a deep breath, she crawled towards the body; her palms slapping against the sticky blood that pooled around his body while the pounding persisted.


    A chill ran through her body while she slipped, falling face-first into the body, the stench of his still warm body making her retch. Fumbling around with his jeans, she grabbed at the keys, tugging them a few times before the loop on his jeans broke, the ring jangling free into her hands. But there were too many keys¡ªat least thirty or so¡ªnone of them marked. The weapons'' locker was right behind the set of lockers that she dealt in with medical supplies, blankets and other essentials, but the banging was growing more and more intense, the metal door bowing at the force of the blows. The row of keys was taunting her while she sifted through them, looking to find any sort of label or mark to set them apart. Then, without warning, the door burst open, sunlight streaming through into the darkened pit that was Bill''s den, her dropping the keys into the puddle of blood. The only thing within arm''s reach was the big, adjustable spanner that Branch had bashed Bill''s skull in with, but it was sitting amidst the remains of his head. Fighting off the disgust, she rolled over and grabbed it, the handle cold and slimy before rolling back towards the door and swinging it wildly in the air.


    "Leave me alone!" She shouted, eyes shut and jaw clenched, only to feel it connect with something and get stuck. After a few tugs, she heard a laugh, only to open her eyes and see a haggard Tom Gabriel on the other end of the wrench. "My god," she said, rushing towards him and squeezing him, forgetting about his host of injuries.


    "Ah, shit," he moaned.


    "Oh, no, I''m sorry, he stabbed you, right? I thought I saw him stab you, but I wasn''t sure where or if he did or..."


    "Yeah," he slumped down on a bench, pulling his jacket aside to show a gash in his black t-shirt and a mass of red flowing over it. "Fucking ass."


    "Just sit still and I''ll patch you up, although we''ll need to..."


    "Where''s Branch?"


    "Oh, um," she was rifling around her supply locker, "he went down that hallway."


    "Was he alone?"


    "I, well, yes, but, what are you doing, sit back down and let me treat you," she stood, dumbfounded with gauze and rubbing alcohol in her hands while Tom was sauntering off towards the building proper and the elevators. "Come back here! At least let me treat the wound, so it doesn''t get infected."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "I''ve got something to take care of," he said. "Why don''t you clean Bill''s brains up off the ground."


    "Tom, stop being so damned stubborn."


    "This ends now, doc," he leaned up against the chain-link fence. "I''m going after him."


    "At least let me give you something for the pain, Tom,"


    "No," he said, "I need to be alert."


    "Fine, then, hold on," she went back to the locker and rummaged around until she found a vial of lidocaine, some epinephrine, and a syringe. Without looking at the dosage, she filled the syringe up. "You might want to sit down for this."


    He shook his head no, lifting his shirt up to show the knife wound, just a few hairs underneath the gunshot wound. The wound was still bleeding, and with every breath, a small spurt flowed out. She plunged the needle into his skin, injecting a small dose before moving in for another, dotting around the wound while he clenched his teeth at each injection. After she finished, she pulled a roll of gauze from her back pocket and began wrapping it; him trying to pull away only for her to look up at him, stopping any dissention cold in its tracks.


    "There, that should numb you up and the bleeding should at least slow down... for now, I suppose, but I need to treat you, Tom. This is serious."


    "You saw what he did," he muttered, "I can''t let him continue on like this."


    "Just be careful, Tom, christ."


    "They need you out there," he said. "Vera and Farrington. They''ve got Crusher, and he''s hurt bad. Wouldn''t want him dying like that in front of his kid, would ya?"


    "Fine, I just... Be careful, won''t you?"


    He grunted before walking off towards the exit of the parking structure and back into the depths of Branch Tower. That feeling of finality still wouldn''t shake free from her mind, but somehow he had survived the last time they had said goodbye. Perhaps this was his day to survive. Who knows what Branch had in store for Tom, but she couldn''t help him alone, she knew that, and the people who could help him needed her.


    Back at the locker she scrambled for supplies, rounding up antiseptic, gauze and a few vials of morphine. Before she headed for the door, she grabbed the spanner as well, just in case she needed to fight anyone or anything off. The scene outside the door was beyond what she had expected to find; bodies and gore strewn about. Most of the fighting had subsided and, instead, survivors were scourging around to check on the fallen. As a doctor who had taken an oath to help the wounded and sick, she felt overwhelmed. Even if most of the fallen were in Branch''s guard uniforms, they were still people in need of help.


    All of that changed when she saw the mess in the corner. The gargantuan beast hunched over, looking as vulnerable as he was inside of the cell that they had locked him into, only covered in blood and guts. There was no way to tell what was his own, and what was from others. Only the female engineer, Vera, was close to him, trying to soothe the magnificent beast while Will Farrington hovered behind her, a machete at the ready in case Crusher decided one of them was food. The boy and his mother were nowhere in sight.


    "Oh, doc," Vera said, trying to sound upbeat but exhausted and shaken, "this looks bad."


    "No shit, it''s bad," Farrington grunted, "look ''round, doll, look what that beast did. He served his purpose. Let''s get outta here before something happens."


    "How bad is he wounded?" Dr. Faraday asked, approaching them. "Will he?"


    "No, he won''t bite, if that''s what you''re asking," Vera said. "Disregard whatever Will here is going on about."


    "That''s the thanks that I get? I corralled that thing out to save ya and that''s what I get?"


    "He''s a big baby," she said.


    The doctor approached, realizing that the tools and supplies that she had at her disposal would not cut it when it came to whatever the Crusher was. Not only was he bigger, but whatever Branch had done to him had altered him beyond her wildest imagination. Things weren''t all going according to plan, with his body covered in bulbous tumors and lesions, but he was an incredible specimen that made her curious what he looked like through an x-ray or CAT scan, not that it helped her now.


    "I''m not even sure where to start."


    "Most are just minor cuts and bruises," Vera explained. "He heals fast. Unlike anything that I''ve ever seen before, I''m just worried that there''s something else going on."


    "How much do you know about his... condition?"


    "I saw him turn, watched it all happen. He complained about there being a beast living inside of his head, about it taking over his body and his mind. Whatever it is, the Demoreo that I knew doesn''t seem to be in control anymore, but parts of him are peaking through."


    "Oh?"


    "The bugger recognized his boy," Will interrupted. "Lit right up and went nuts. Asshole was just chasing me out here, I thought he''d bloody rip my head off. Saw the boy an'' his wife. Boom, different beast. Even Vera here, he knew her."


    "Where are they now?"


    "Who?" she asked.


    "His son and wife."


    "Oh, right, we had Stuart run them off to safety. Honestly, we thought he''d go and find you. The kid had a gash on his chest and her leg was pretty banged up."


    "Good," she said. "Maybe I should head back in and try to find them? I don''t know what I can do for Demoreo here without running tests. I can treat some of these gashes so they won''t get infected, but I''m not sure that it matters."


    "He just seems so... defeated? He fought so hard to remember and to help all of us. Now he just seems drained of life. I''m worried he won''t make it."


    "Fuckers been dead since Branch got ''em," Farrington interjected.


    "Oh fuck off, Will," Vera grunted. "Hey, where''s TK?"


    "Oh dear, Tom," the doctor remembered him sauntering off into the unknown. "He went after Branch."


    "Where did Branch get to?" Will asked.


    "He... went into Bill''s den and," a shudder ran through her spine.


    "Say no more." Vera gave her a squeeze, the doctor flinching at the pain in her arm.


    "Gabriel gonna get himself killed, ya know."


    "What do you mean?" Vera asked.


    "Haven''t seen Viktor ''round, if Branch has him with him, well, that fucker is stone crazy."


    "Oh god," Dr. Faraday froze. "I sent him up there. He didn''t even have a weapon on him. I had just numbed up the stab wound. He was looking pretty haggard."


    "Gabriel can handle himself," Farrington said.


    "You''re an idiot," Vera retorted. "He''s gone off to get himself killed, for what?"


    "Never seems to be a reason," Farrington said.


    "So you''re okay with him just dying, then?"


    "Fucker took my job!"


    "He opposed the dictator who tried to have me killed!"


    "Ey, I saved the fuckin'' day."


    "I have to go," Dr. Faraday mumbled after cleaning out a few of Crusher''s wounds, only to see them already starting to heal on their own. "I have to go."


    "No, wait." Vera grabbed her by her bad shoulder, making her yelp in pain. "Oh shit, sorry, doc. But wait, I think we can help."


    "I ain''t helpin'' him," Farrington said.


    "Fuck you, Will, you''re helping."

 35. The Doctor

    Being crammed into one of the Branch Tower elevators was a common occurrence for Dr. Faraday since arriving at the tower, yet this time was different. While not the first time that fear overcame her, this time she was crammed into the elevator with Vera, Stuart''s brother and the Crusher. To say that Crusher took up the entire elevator would not be an exaggeration; he took up the entire elevator, and it was a miracle that the elevator still crawled its way up to the penthouse carrying all of that weight. She could have sworn that the elevator lurched and crawled its way up, but it also could''ve been in her head.


    The heat alone was enough to feel oppressive, but being crammed up against the door while Crusher''s pock-marked and bloody body pushed them all out made it almost unbearable. When the elevator dinged, and the door opened, she tumbled to the floor, landing hard on her injured arm only to look into Branch''s penthouse suite. The gilded doors ripped off of the hinges and bullet holes lining the walls. Branch was behind a bar while Tom was hunched over, bleeding, with Viktor standing over him.


    "Look at you, you are hurt, TK," Branch''s tone turned sullen while he stared down into the bottle. The madness was wearing off, like him coming down from a high, only to realize that it was temporary. They weren''t in public anymore. There was no more bravado to be had, just a sad understanding of their collective mire. "I never wanted things to end up like this. In fact, your arrival excited me. You were to be the crown jewel of our society; Hollywood''s favorite action hero, no, my favorite! But then it all just went to shit, didn''t it?"


    "You''ve gone mad. The signs are all around you, or maybe they aren''t and you were always mad."


    "One man''s madness is another man''s brilliance, sadly, and you can''t see that, can you? Very short-sighted."


    "This is over, Branch," TK pulled himself up, pushing aside Branch''s bodyguard and trying to step around a dark leather couch.


    "Viktor," he turned to his bodyguard with the gun. "I''m sure you have a score to settle with Mr. Gabriel here? Please, take care of this and let me brood in peace."


    Viktor advanced towards TK, unclipping the rifle from his shoulder and tossing it down onto the bar in front of Branch with a thunk. TK had a pistol in his hands, but Viktor advanced barehanded, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it aside to reveal his chest full of scars. There was a crazy in that man''s eyes that went beyond just someone broken by the apocalypse. This was a man who was unfit for any civilized place or time, someone who had seen the horrors of the world and embraced it. He was the most dangerous kind of crazy; he was the kind that saw Branch''s madness and embraced it. Stuart had some humanity left in him, which was why he wasn''t in there with the two of them, the last true lunatics in what was left of the world.


    "Are you going to gun down an unarmed man? I thought you still had some honor left in you," Branch said. "I guess that I was wrong."


    "Not all wrong," TK said, pointing the gun towards Branch and squeezing off a few shots, sending Branch crashing to the ground behind the bar. Viktor lunged at him, their bodies colliding and the gun flying from his hand onto the carpet. The blonde maniac had pinned his knees against TK''s shoulders and began raining down strikes on his face with blind fury. TK tried to kick both his legs up, pop his hips, but Viktor wasn''t budging. TK continued to writhe on the ground, trying to move his head out of the way of Viktor''s fists but failing miserably. His left eye blurred, and his head felt light.


    "We need to help," Dr. Faraday said, only for Farrington to shush her. She looked back and saw Vera with Demoreo, talking to him, trying to make sense of the situation, but the monster sat there, a dull look in his eyes.


    TK bucked his hips in one last ditch effort to throw the Russian psychopath off of him, which made Viktor lose his balance but only find himself higher up on TK''s shoulders, his knees on either side of TK''s head. Viktor looked down at him and smiled a sly smile. Blood splattered on his face and his fists raw from pounding on TK. This was the opening that TK needed, but he looked weak still, his head heavy, and any little movement pained him. His shoulders were still pinned down, but were under Viktor''s ankles, meaning that his arms were free. Once again, he popped his hips up and this time was able to slide his head out from underneath of Viktor, sending his assailant flat onto his face.


    TK was free from the Russian''s grip, but still too hurt to spring to his feet, having to drag himself up. By the time he had stood up, Viktor was dashing at him headfirst, ramming TK''s back against the wall, a painting of a Nevada sunset tumbling to the floor next to them. Viktor pulled back, jamming his shoulder into TK''s midsection again, sending the air out of him. Viktor wrapped his arms around the back of TK''s legs and was trying to wrestle him to the ground, TK spreading his legs out and doing his best to keep on his feet. He clasped his hands together and hefted them high over his head before pounding them down onto Viktor''s spine. The grip on his legs loosened a bit, and TK once again pounded his fists down onto Viktor''s spine.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    One more time. This time, he reached down and wrapped his arms around Viktor''s midsection. There wasn''t much left in the tank, but he knew he had to stop Viktor in any way that he could. With a groan he mustered up what was left of his strength and hefted the scarred man up onto his shoulders, staggering forward before slamming him down with all of his might onto the glass table, the sound of glass shattering under the weight of the impact and a howl rising from Viktor. TK dropped to one knee, fighting to catch his breath. His side was bleeding more heavily now, a dark red flowing now, his shirt sopping wet with his own blood.


    "Stay down," TK said.


    Viktor groaned, rolling into the glass while it crunched underneath the weight of his body. Shards had covered him, were cascading off of his scarred chest while he rolled to one side, planting his hands down and pulling himself up. His back was shredded, small bits of glass embedded into his skin, a large shard stuck inside of him near his right shoulder blade that was oozing out blood. TK muttered under his breath and picked himself up, checking the charge on his battery to see that he still had a few blows left in that archaic weapon that Vera had designed for him. With his left foot planted, he motioned for Viktor to stand up, for him to come into range for a kick and to end it.


    "Come on, you motherfucker," TK muttered, only to look back and see Dr. Faraday on the ground, Farrington standing over her. That brief distraction was all that Branch needed. The billionaire pulling himself up, bright red eyes bugged out and that vein in his forehead throbbing. Branch''s hands gripped onto the rifle on the counter, and TK''s eyes widened. TK dove to the ground just as the bullets started to fly, and Branch was screaming at the top of his lungs. Farrington draped himself over the doctor and tried to pull her from harm''s way, glass and bullets dancing in the air. The bullets tore through the room and Viktor, who had just fought back to his feet. Pressed up against the cool leather of the couch, TK scanned the room to see if the doctor was okay, before focusing on the bloody pulp of a body that was Viktor''s hit the ground, pools of blood expanding out onto the white tile floor.


    Branch had lost it. TK did his best to get his footing and pressed on the couch, pushing it back towards the bar while bullets were still flying throughout the room, piercing through the couch while TK pushed it. Gaining momentum, he gave one last great push; the couch crashing into the bar and tipping it over, the gun clicking against the tile, laying there like a smoking reminder of the surrounding chaos. TK dove for the gun, hitting the ground hard with his shoulder but getting a grip on it, turning to face Branch, who was pinned up against the window, snarling at him.


    "You miserable wretch of a man," Branch said. "You really think that you can destroy all of this? Do you think that you can fix it? Nothing can be done, it''s all over, no one can be saved."


    "Fuck off, Branch," TK said, pointing the gun up at his head and pulling the trigger, only to be greeted by a click. Again. Again. "Fuck!" He said, tossing the rifle aside while Branch lunged at him from over the bar, his shoulder crashing into TK''s sternum and knocking the air out of him. Branch was desperate, grasping at anything that he could grip onto on TK, while TK fought for air, trying to kick Branch off of him. The roar from the elevator caught them both off guard, only for the doctor to turn to see Crusher bust through the elevator. "What the..." TK started, only for Branch to scramble off of him and stumble towards the bar. Crusher crashed into the suite, smashing both of the doors off of their hinges with Vera in tow. He glanced over at her, completely lost while she shrugged and pointed at Crusher, who was stalking his way towards Branch. Branch was hurling full bottles at Crusher, only for them to smash against his body and for him not to stop before Branch found a handgun, pointing it at the behemoth.


    "Y-y-you stop right there! You stop!" Crusher kept advancing, the gun shaking in Branch''s hand. "Stop! I helped you, I only wanted to help I... Oh god, Gabriel, do something or he''ll kill us all!"


    "What?" TK looked up at Branch, who was waving the gun at him, pointing him towards Crusher.


    "You heard me, I''ll do whatever you want, just please, stop him!" Crusher was charging at him, Branch started squeezing off shots that weren''t phasing the giant at all, he raged towards Branch like the bullets were bouncing right off of his tough skin. "No! Stop! Plee-"


    It was too late. Crusher leaped in a mighty bound at the bar, crashing into it and splintering it into pieces, Crusher''s body slamming into Branch''s, pinning him against the glass. Branch''s "please" escaped him in an exasperated sigh, as if the life were being wrung out of him like a wet towel before the glass gave, cracking at first, then smashing, both of the bodies flying out of the window.


    "Demoreo!" Vera called, rushing through the room and over the broken glass before TK could catch her. Farrington let go of the doctor and rushed over to Vera''s side.


    "What are you doing here?" TK asked.


    "He... He," she was staring at the broken window, tears streaming down her cheek. "He was aware, TK. He knew."


    "What?"


    "That shouldn''t have been possible, those windows... My god," she wriggled free of his grip and over to the window. "TK, these windows survived the goddamned apocalypse. A direct nuclear explosion didn''t break them."


    "Fucker was strong," Farrington muttered.


    "Jesus," he said, joining her by the window, the wind whipping at them and making him only more aware of all of his wounds. The drop was huge. All that he could see when he looked down was the hulk of a body that was the Crusher''s and the brown-red stains of blood on the sand.


    "It worked. He recognized his son, saw him in danger, just..."


    "Doc," TK said, looking back towards her on the ground.


    "Oh, Tom."


    "I''m pretty banged up," he said, collapsing back onto the couch.


    "Oh, gosh," she looked at him, pulling herself to her feet. "You are a mess."


    "I know," he said.

 36. The Engineer

    Utilizing Branch''s lab for something other than sheer insanity felt alien to Vera. Yet it had everything that they needed, so it''d have to do. For once, that lab would be used to save lives, instead of ruining them. In all the time that Vera had been at the compound, the lab was one of the few mysteries that remained; it being off-limits to anyone outside of Branch''s most trusted staff. The very table that TK was one was most likely the same table that had Demoreo strapped down to for months and months on end, injections, surgeries and other tests that stripped him of his humanity and turned him into a monster happened there, as did whatever tests that had brought his wife back. TK had collapsed in the elevator, leaving Vera and Dr. Faraday to drag him to the lab, now with Branch''s team of doctors buzzing around, doing what they could to save him.


    He had lost a lot of blood, more than he had let on, but they could save him with the large reserves of blood that Branch had stored for himself. It turned out that both Branch and TK were the same blood type, a fact that she was champing at the bit to joke with him about when he came to, until then she was watching while on another table a surgeon was working on Shar''s leg. There were fears of infection because of all the undead present, and they would amputate it to ensure that any infection didn''t spread throughout her system.


    Tyler sat curled up in a ball next to Vera, her arm draped over his shoulder. The cut on his stomach wasn''t deep, just required some stitches. Now he sat and waited, quiet and stone-faced, while the doctors operated on his mother in front of him. He knew that they''d be taking her leg, but he hadn''t budged or protested, either.


    "It''ll be okay," Vera said. "You know that, right?"


    "Where''s my dad?" he asked.


    "I... Well, umm..."


    "He''s dead," TK sat up on the table, pushing the doctors aside.


    "Damnit, Tom," Dr. Faraday scolded him, "there''s time for that later."


    "She''s right, Mr. Gabriel, we aren''t doing stitching up this wound and..." one doctor protested.


    "It''ll heal," he said, looking down at it. "Look, already has stitches in it. You''re free now, Branch is dead, but you still did whatever the fuck he wanted, don''t pull this Hippocratic Oath shit on me now."


    "He can''t be," Tyler said.


    "He is. I saw it with my own eyes. But your dad, what he did¡­ it was a brave thing. He killed Branch."


    "TK," Vera said. "Not now, okay? Just let them finish stitching you up and..."


    "Tyler, you need to understand this. He''s dead, but he died as a good man. He died a man, not a monster."


    "Okay, that''s enough, TK," she warned again, glaring at him. Tyler jerked away from her and out the door, Vera shaking her head and pointing at TK before following him out the door. "Hey, Tyler. Stop. I''m sorry."


    "Is it true? Did he die?"


    "He did," she said. "I''m sorry that I didn''t tell you, but I just... shit, I don''t know, I needed to explain it to you, so you''d understand."


    "I thought they could save him, that they could somehow reverse it all and that he''d be my dad again."


    "He was your dad, Tyler. No matter what. I''m sorry, but when I saw that TK went after Branch, I knew I had to help. He was hurt and, well, your father... You saw he wasn''t himself, but after he saw you, that changed. I saw something in him again, something inside of him woke up, was able to fight away all of that torture and remember who he was."


    "Wait, you mean he remembered me?"


    "Of course he did." She wiped a few tears away. "You woke him up, sweetie. He saw you and it changed him."


    "How did he even get up there?" TK asked.


    "I led him to the elevator, and we both stuffed in there, which, ohhh god, it was a pretty tight fit and..."


    "The boy doesn''t need to hear this, doll. He gets it." Will rounded the corner. "Don''t ye?"


    "Yes, sir."


    "Let him alone, will ya?"


    "Hey, he wanted to know, and he deserves to know and..."Stolen story; please report.


    "Boy," Will grabbed him by the shoulders. "Yer pop was a fearsome fella. I know I was ''fraid of ''em, but something changed out there. She thinks it was you. Guess that sounds ''bout right."


    "I know," he said. "I''m just gonna go check on my mom, okay?"


    "Sure," Vera said, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. Stuart made an appearance and in a rare showcase of emotion, the brothers embraced before Stuart pushed him off and Will departed with a slug to the shoulder.


    "Fucker," Will chided.


    "Whatever, knew ye''d make it," he said. "Where''s the doc?"


    "Stitching up Gabriel."


    "Well fuck, tell ''er Elsie''s fine, alright? Just made her a cheese sandwich and sumwit."


    "Look at you," Vera smiled, "taking care of someone else like anything matters."


    "Keep yer damned wench''s mouth shut, will ya?" Stuart scoffed, stomping off.


    Both of them stood in silence for what felt like an eternity before Will broke the silence. "Quite a fucked day, eh?"


    "Yeah," she said. "How about Stuart and the little girl, huh?"


    "Stone killer an'' he''s fussing ''bout some girl and dolls and shit."


    "What''s next, Will Farrington settling down?"


    "Oh, fuck off. So what''s eatin'' you?"


    "I want to know what happened to Demoreo and Branch. Has anyone gone out there yet?"


    "The whole bloody tower saw them fall, love," he said. "No reason to worry about anything. They''re both gone."


    "That''s not a bad idea," TK exited the lab, pulling on his jacket over his blood-stained shirt. "I''m going up there. Who''s coming with me?"


    "Fine," Vera said, trying to sound disgusted, but morbidly curious.


    The three stood before the elevator, waiting for it only for TK to get frustrated and make for the emergency staircase without a word. Will sighed and motioned for Vera to walk in front of him like some sort of gentleman. TK was still a mystery to her, at times cold and distant, other times full of life and energy. Now that Branch was gone, there were a lot of questions that would need answering, and she wasn''t sure who would be the one to take over the daily operations of Branch Tower.


    The crushing weight of that responsibility could be enough to drive someone mad, or maybe Branch would just be replaced by someone worse. She wanted TK to just take over; him serving as the catalyst for the past few weeks, anyway. This seemed like his responsibility. Branch was a madman, but there was order under his rule. Now the infrastructure that he left behind was still in place for the time being, but it wouldn''t be long until that would fall apart without Branch at the helm.


    There were three sets of stairs to the main lobby, them emerging from the back, off to the side. The receptionist sat at her desk. Mascara streaked down her cheeks and balled up tissues surrounding her work area. TK Gabriel stood just outside of the door, at the top of the steps waiting for them, overlooking the scene. The door was hard to open, the suck of air followed by a whoosh and a blast of warmth from the sun and the whipping winds of the wasteland. TK was leaning against the metal railing with a foot up, munching on an apple from the reception area.


    "I always forget about the fucking apples," he said. "But seriously, fucking apples, the gall of this guy."


    "Yeah..." she crossed her arms and walked down the steps towards the two bodies. She had watched them jettison from the building in person, saw the glass that had survived the nuclear holocaust, withstood some of the most powerful winds and exposure known to man, smash under the strength of Demoreo. Branch was probably dead just from being smashed up against that glass, never mind the fall itself. "Why hasn''t anyone even checked on them yet?"


    "There''s lotsa shit going on right now," Will said. "There was no way that either of ''em coulda survived that."


    "He was a good man," she said. "I know that neither of you got to see that. But he was a good man, and he cared about his family. He didn''t deserve this."


    "None of ''em did," Will said.


    "This isn''t about who deserves what, this is about survival," TK said in between bites.


    "What about hope, then? Don''t these people deserve hope?"


    "What is there to hope for?" TK said. "This is all that''s left, hoping for more won''t get anyone anywhere."


    "You don''t see the hope? The hope that Demoreo could break through when he needed to, to fight off whatever they had done to him to save his son? That''s hope, TK," Vera said. "I''m sorry that you can''t see that, but that''s hope."


    "This is a giant fucking monument to the man who destroyed the world, full of people trying to live like things were before, who cheered on the destitute murdering each other or being fed to his creations," TK inspected the core of the apple before tossing it at Branch''s corpse and wiping his hands on his pants. "That''s not hope."


    "So what now, then? You take over and give us something different?"


    "Different?" He said, shaking his head. "I don''t know what you are thinking. I''m out of here first thing in the morning."


    "So you''ll just run, then? You''ll come here, fuck everything up, then leave?"


    "This isn''t my home," he said. She wanted to slap him, but Will wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. He could tell that she was getting upset, but this was his way of telling her "not now."


    "Then what will we do? There are still thousands of people here. Some are good, some could be good."


    "I don''t know," he said, walking back towards the door. "You two might as well take care of things. They all know him, anyway," he nodded at Will. "Maybe you can change things. Maybe not."


    With that, he walked back into the building, snatching up another apple from the reception desk and disappearing past Vera''s line of sight. She was angry, confused and scared at all that had gone down that day. People had died, some good, some bad, some just trying to survive, and their little world was thrown into chaos. TK Gabriel was at the center of all of this and his plan was to leave, suggesting that Vera and Will take the place of Branch as the integral cogs to keep things running.


    "Wait, can we do that?"


    "Dunno," Will said.


    "Fucking Gabriel," she said, kicking up some sand.


    "Mhm."


    "We should clean this up or something, shouldn''t we?"


    "Dunno."


    "Okay, well," she took a deep breath. "Call Stuart and get him to send a team out here to pick them up. Have Branch incinerated, but not Demoreo. We''ll hold a memorial service for him in the arena."


    "Kinda weird, innit?"


    "Just take care of it, please?"


    "Alright, alright, fuckin'' hell, woman."

 Epilogue

    There was a chill in the air unlike Bran had felt since before the fallout. A few of the more science-minded folk in the town had predicted that the chill would return, that all of that junk that wound up kicked up and into the sky would block out the sun for a while and leave them all cold, but that it''d fall and the warmth would return. The warmth returned, but now the cold of winter was returning and it felt obscene after all of that sun and heat. It wasn''t like Bran didn''t know the cold, growing up in the Rocky Mountains and all, but he never expected to feel that chill again and be struck with such fear. Lots of folk would die if the winter came. They weren''t ready for that yet; they had just finally secured their own borders and built up a perimeter that they could manage.


    Bran rubbed his gloved hands together over the barrel next to him, the fire simmering inside of it. Tonight was his watch shift and the first night in ages that he''d seen his own breath. No one had said much about it, just a few shrugs and groans. One thing at a time, Jeb had said. Jeb was a smug motherfucker, but he hadn''t failed them yet since he took over from Valentina. She was still bitter about it. But what''s fair is fair, he supposed. There was a vote, and most wanted to follow Jeb over her. Jeb wanted to stay put, to build something of their own, to start over. Valentina and her group wanted to keep moving, find somewhere more suitable.


    There was a sense in that, no doubt, but most of ''em had lived in Colorado their entire lives and weren''t keen on picking up and leaving, on letting the world win out and break their spirits. Bran understood the sense in rebuilding. He was born and raised in Grand Junction and wanted to see it alive again. They weren''t hit hard by a bomb like Denver was, but the shock wave still decimated the city. What was left is where they were camped out in, with makeshift walls built up around what was probably about a square mile of land right by old I-70.


    He shook while staring out into the night. The haze still hung overhead, just like it had since the day the bombs dropped, but the moon and a few of the stars still broke through and were visible at times. So much for those dreams of space travel. There was no hope of seeing the universe now. It was all science fiction and the Earth would be humanity''s tomb. That much made sense to Bran. The shakes died down a bit; he wasn''t sure if it was from his diabetes or just the cold. Before everything went to shit, he suffered from diabetes, pricking himself and testing his blood all day to make sure his blood sugar was in order.


    After the fall, he couldn''t find any supplies or insulin, just had to hope that everything would be alright. His doctor had always told him that his diet was shit and that he needed to drop some weight, but that all seemed like a bother at the time. He wasn''t even recognizable now, losing what he reckoned was north of seventy pounds and was eating anything that they could get their hands on. They had been growing their own crops for the last few seasons, but the rocky soil wasn''t exactly great for farming much. At least there were some peaches and cherries from the summer still left over. He liked them quite a bit, especially compared to the rest of what they had.


    At least it was a quiet night. His last watch there was a group of raiders that tried to breach the west wall by climbing over it. There was a firefight that lasted for at least two hours before the shooting stopped. In the morning they went outside of the walls and found two men dead and a third bleeding out, Valentina putting a bullet into his skull, which upset Jeb something fierce. Jeb wanted to get something out of them, to find out where they were coming from and if they could make peace, but she was an ice cold bitch and just killed him in cold blood.


    A shiver ran down his spine, thinking about her. No one knew much about her, just that she was definitely Russian, with a thick accent and a cool demeanor. Definitely wasn''t one of the folk from Grand Junction, maybe from Denver? She never said much about her past, though, which never bugged him much. A faint roar of an engine stirred Bran from his reverie, turning out towards the highway where he saw a faint light in the distance. Bran rummaged through his stuff for his set of old binoculars, looking out and seeing a lone motorcycle racing towards the west wall.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "God damnit," he muttered.


    The bike came closer towards the wall, a sinking feeling in Bran''s gut remembering the last assault on the wall from the raiders. This was supposed to be an easier night, one where he didn''t have to shoot at anyone while avoiding being shot himself. The diesel generator next to him hummed louder when he flipped on the floodlight next to him, pointing it towards the road while the rider got closer and closer. Eventually, he was right down in front of the wall, stopping and leaning against his left leg.


    "Stop right there," Bran called out as loudly as he could, having to clear his throat. "Who goes there?"


    "Just passing through," the rider said.


    "Well, you can''t come through here," Bran said, turning the light towards the man, who raised his gloved hand over his eyes. Entirely clad in leather, a few weapons visible on the bike and a tarp strapped onto the back of the bike. "This is our home."


    "You built your home on the fucking freeway," he said. "Not sure how I''m supposed to get around you out here in the woods and hills."


    "Oh, well... Fuck," Bran scratched his head. "Just turn around?"


    "I''m headed east," the rider said. "I''d rather not."


    "There''s nothing out there, man."


    "That''s for me to see with my own eyes," he said.


    "I mean, my hands are tied. I can''t just let you in," Bran said. "Why not head over to Branch Tower? I hear there''s plenty for everyone there."


    "Can''t," the man said. "I killed him."


    "Yeah well..." Bran paused. "Wait, what? Who?"


    "Branch."


    "As in Jordan Branch?"


    "The one and only."


    "Bran," Valentina''s voice came from behind him. He turned and saw her standing there, smoking a cigarette, standing by the gate controls. "Let this man in."


    "Well look, Val, I dunno if Jeb would want that and all after the last time..."


    "Let him in," she said, staring coolly up at him.


    "Well fuck," he said. "Alright. Hey, stranger, I''m opening up the gates, you just gotta promise to be gone by morning, alright?"


    "Whatever it takes," he said.


    Bran nodded down to Valentina, who flipped the switch on the gate controls to unlock it, while Bran walked over to the crank and turned it. Slowly at first, but picking up speed with each rotation as the gate slowly ascended. The gate clicked into place and the rider walked his bike in through the gate, favoring his right side while he walked, Bran unsure if that was him putting on a big show to lull them into thinking he wasn''t gonna cause no problems or what, but he kept a watchful eye on the horizon just in case. Bran made sure to quickly close the gate behind the man before clambering down and flipping the lock switch. Valentina was standing in front of the rider, taking a drag from her cigarette.


    "So this is the man that killed Jordan Branch."


    "What about it?" He asked.


    "I heard that he fell out of the window while drunk," she said.


    "No."


    "Innnnteresting," the word rolled off of her tongue. "So you were there?"


    "Suppose so."


    "What reason would you have to kill such a man?"


    "He tried to execute me in his little coliseum thing," the rider was still favoring his side, slightly grimacing in pain, either at a memory or an old wound.


    "Ah, so you are the rock star?"


    "Action hero," he said. "Big difference."


    "My mistake," she said.


    "Hey Val," Bran said to her. "Shouldn''t we go get Jeb, you know, tell him ''bout this?"


    "Do as you wish."


    "It''s just, this was my watch, and we weren''t supposed to let no one in and¡ª"


    "I don''t want any trouble," the rider interrupted. "I can trade some bullets for gas, maybe some food and be on my way."


    "The great action hero of the wasteland simply on his way?" She let out a laugh.


    "Like I told him," he nodded up towards Bran. "Heading east."


    "Without finishing what you started?"


    "What?"


    "What would you say if I told you," she took a drag from her cigarette, "that he''s not dead."


    "Bullshit."


    "What are you two goin'' on about?" Bran asked, coughing from the smoke of Valentina''s cigarette.


    "Nothing," she said, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stomping the life out of it. "Just informing my new friend here that his work isn''t done yet."


    "My work?" The rider asked.


    "You really didn''t know about his neural network? About his backups?"


    "Backups?" The rider''s face was rife with disgust.


    "Finish what you started, Mr. Gabriel."