by M. T. Miller
She turned toward the Sun God, and her inhuman stare intensified even further. “Should he die here and now—” a sudden wind blew, pushing the mug shot off the table “—death will cover the continent within a decade!”
“How?” the Sun God asked. “Neither the Skulls, the Church, nor the Movement have the strength to move against anyone else. And even if they do, we are here to back their opposition. Mutual survival is assured.”
Abruptly, all of Tarantula’s eyes closed. She collapsed on top of the table, completely limp. She would have slid to the ground as well, had the Coyote not caught her.
“Nothing is clear,” she said. “It’s still reweaving.” Just barely, she opened her eyes. “And that doesn’t make what I said any less true. He can’t die. Not here, and not by your hand. Trust in my vision, for once. Please…”
She rolled her eyes upward, consciousness leaving her. As if he was holding a rag, Coyote carefully put her back on the chair.
“What now?” he asked, still standing.
“Now I ponder this whole thing,” the Sun God said. “You may go.”
“I wish I could say that I know that look on your face,” Snake said flatly, “but you only have one look. Regardless, I would advise you to heed her words. Was there ever a time when Tarantula was not right?” He slowly stood up as he finished his sentence.
“No,” the Sun God said. “No, there wasn’t.” He stared at the table while the two men carried her out of the meeting chamber.
What to do?
He looked sideways, toward the photo of the black-haired man as the wind blew it away. The wind used to be my friend, he thought. Before you killed its master, along with so many others. Now it acts without reason, without purpose…
His brow furrowed. His gaze drifted back to the table, and the documents on it. As does everything else.
The Sun God wanted to kill the uninvited guest. More than everything in the world, he desired to see his flesh smolder and his bones char. If he could do it a hundred times, it would not be enough. But what then? If what Tarantula saw was correct, then by taking the intruder’s life, he would be ending everyone else’s.
He had already ignored fate once, and the consequences of that decision were staring him in the face. Approximately three thousand dead, it said on one paper. ‘Skulls’ fractured into seven sub-factions, read another.
Babylon thrived on many things, and one of them was cattle. Cattle produced fertilizer. Fertilizer was sold to communes that could still practice agriculture. Farm raiding spree, he read a third report. Everything looted. One less business partner. One less external source of quality food. One less thriving hub of human life.
“No,” he said, and the echo followed. I won’t repeat that mistake, my vengeance be damned. He reached below the pile of papers, searching for something. There you are. He grabbed the brick-like device and lifted it.
Holding the contraption in front of his face, the Sun God pressed a button, and it started emanating sound.
“Sir?” A voice spoke from the other side. It belonged to an older man, but wasn’t infirm in any way.
“We have made our decision,” the Sun God said. “Do with him as you will. He is all yours.”
“Affirmative, sir,” the voice from the other side said.
“Good. Keep me informed.” The Sun God hung up, and put the device back down. Lost in thought, he rose slowly, before making his way toward the large, ornately decorated seat in the middle of the room.
I think I will order the service to remove the chairs and table later tonight, he mused as he sat. The roof was opened directly above his head, and his silver hair gleamed magnificently under the light of the stars. I feel like enjoying the peace and quiet for a little while more.
After all, he thought, I don’t think it will last.
Chapter Eleven
At least now I know where the Sheriff’s Office is, the Nameless thought, now back inside the relative comfort of his apartment. He had been sitting on the bed for some half an hour, the guards having left as soon as they were done escorting him.
Ponderously, he turned his gaze toward the door. Whoever it was that had scraped the brain-matter from it and from the floor had done an amazing job. With the new rug they’d provided, there was hardly any indication anyone was murdered there. Aside from the strange smell, of course.
He shifted in his spot. Having gotten used to the ever-so-slight bumps his archaic arsenal created underneath the mattress, the Nameless found it difficult to relax now that they were gone.
It does not matter. I will get it all back soon enough.
The deal he had made with the sheriff seemed good on paper. He would ascend another floor, and would even get sent on sanctioned hunting trips.
He was not specific about the frequency of those assassination runs, though. In all likelihood, I will still have to reap someone on my own terms from time to time.
The Nameless’ recently scrubbed room evoked the name of the whole outfit. The Cleanup Crew. Are they contract killers? Or merely a band of blackmailed individuals such as myself? Only time will tell.
He rose, and the room spun around him. He had not gotten enough sleep last night, and the time he had spent at the sheriff’s office was anything but relaxing. Still, there were things to do. I need to do my daily fight. Assuming, of course, that anyone is willing to even step into the cage with me.
As the Nameless approached the door, a realization came upon him. It is not only for the fight that I need to go there. It was the camaraderie as well. Max, Al, even Andrea—they all acted as a cushion for his ever-growing frustration. Without their company, the repetition he had to face every day would have inevitably caused him to do something stupid again.
Although not much could be stupider than killing a man in front of an audience. I wonder how everyone will react to what I have done. Let us check.
He stepped outside, conflicted. On one hand, Fireball was dead, as were another two members of his gang, and good riddance to the whole stinking lot of them. The Nameless had barely suffered any consequence for all three murders, as well. If anything, he had been rewarded.
On the other hand, he was discontent.
Am I actually worried about what will happen in the amphitheater? He locked the door, clenched his fists, and set course there. No regrets. No remorse. Whatever happens, happens.
Getting anywhere in Babylon always took forever. This time, that rule seemed literal. As he kept pushing his way forward, the Nameless found himself having to push back thoughts as well. His gut was tightened up all the way there, a reliable indicator that things were about to turn sour.
His assumptions proved completely accurate. Even from the top of the amphitheater’s impressively sized staircase, he saw everyone’s heads turn toward him. So this is how it feels to be famous? He descended, one rigid step at a time. I do not like it.
By the time the Nameless was all the way down, the look on everyone’s faces was evident. Both the fighters and other attendees stared at him as if he were a man-sized cockroach. I will not let them presume that I care. He proceeded toward the changing booth, only to get intercepted by the short, burly figure of Jake.
Initially silent, the Nameless measured the man from head to toe. As he did so, others kept closing in, until there was no way to leave but to push through the whole lot of them. Realizing this, the Nameless moved his right foot backwards just a little bit, taking on a stance that was not explicitly hostile, yet still combat-ready.
“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, his eyes darting around everyone in his vicinity. Max was there, as was Andrea. He could not make out the rest of the gang, but that did not mean that they weren’t there.
“Stick around for a bit more and you just might find out,” Jake growled. His fists were clenched, his body as tense as it could be. Unlike the Nameless, he did not try to hide his disposition.
“Is that a threat?” the Nameless said, now staring Jake straight in the e
ye.
“Naw, you’re just imagining things,” Jake said. “This here is no more a threat than you are a raving lunatic of a murderer, Bones!” He spat at the Nameless as he finished his sentence, hitting his stomach.
“And you presume that I fear you?” the Nameless asked. “That I fear anything at all?” No flinching.
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Jake said as he tilted his head toward a face in the crowd.
The Nameless did not need to turn to know who it belonged to. “A man is dead, Bones,” Max said. “You killed him, and it was no accident. We all saw it. You went out of your way to end his life!”
“And not one of you cares to ask why?” the Nameless shouted back.
“Why bother?” Andrea spoke. “Nothing that comes out of your mouth is ever worth anything at all. Half-truths and silence; that’s all you’re good for!”
In that regard, she is right. Still, the Nameless knew that giving them any ground at all was the same as picking up and heading home. If he was to keep his place among the fighters, he would have to fight for it.
“This time it does not have to be that way,” he said. “The man I killed, I had unfinished business with. I would tell you all about it.” If you let me, he finished the sentence in his mind.
“But we won’t hear it.” Max said. “This is enough, Bones. We took you in, and now we drive you out.”
“And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that?” The Nameless’ blood was about to boil. A comment like that would have been surmountable if it came from Andrea. But Max? If it has truly come to this, then my days here are indeed numbered.
“By giving you a chance,” Jake said. “You either do what I advised and walk the fuck away, or…” He relaxed his body just a little bit, spreading his arms. “Or we all pile up on you.”
“I have yet to lose a fight, Jake,” the Nameless said. “Even in your quantities, you still might not be able to subdue me.”
Some fighters voiced their reactions, but Jake did not flinch. “Oh, I’m aware of that. Boy, you have no idea just how much I’m aware of that!”
“Then move aside,” the Nameless said, “and we will forget this whole misbegotten incident.” He stepped forward. No one else budged even a little bit.
“Not so fast,” Jake said. “I’m not done yet.” He extended his finger, poking the Nameless in the chest. Unlike the previous time, he did not hesitate. “You’re a god-damned monster in a fight. Perhaps in more than one way. I’ve seen it. Hell, we’ve all seen it! But here’s the thing: if we come at you right now, we won’t be trying to knock you out!”
It did not take long for the Nameless to realize just what he was getting at. Low blow. So you all detest me that much?
“And how do you survive lethal force, Bones?” Jake continued. “By applying some yourself, of course! Now, I make no claims to know you or anything, but—” He looked left and right. “I find it hard to believe even you’d go as far as to kill or maim the people who’ve helped you out when you needed it most. You are one sick puppy, but in a different way than that. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
The Nameless looked around once more. Some of them might hesitate when the chips go down. But… He got a good glimpse of Max and Andrea then, and his whole plan went up in flames. But these two will most definitely not. He turned his gaze back toward Jake, who had already donned his smile of victory. Well played, Jake. It appears that I can be beaten after all.
“I have an Endurance match coming up,” the Nameless said. “After that is done, I will be out of your hair.” What little is left of it.
“Deal!” Jake shouted, and the mob behind the Nameless opened up within seconds. “Now, get the fuck out of my arena! Rest up, do whatever crosses your mind. Just make sure you don’t do it here!”
The Nameless was just about to deliver his retort when a heavy thing hit the floor with the sound of metallic clanging. His payment for today.
“Scrape the damn thing off the floor with your teeth for all I care. I’ll be sending the rest to Torres, just so I don’t have to look at you!”
Without uttering a single word, the Nameless quickly crouched, picked up the money, and started walking away within that same breath.
Perhaps I should have left the pouch where it was, he thought, but quickly rejected the idea. No. I have worked for that money. It belongs to me.
After reaching the staircase, he considered trying to sneak a peek behind him, but managed to subdue the urge. Slowly, he made the first of many steps he would have to take on his way up. The knowledge that it was his next-to-last time made him truly appreciate every single one of them.
I will miss this place, the Nameless thought when he got to the top. In a strange way, the amphitheater was even more of a home to him than his own apartment was. Despite his better judgment, this time he did turn around. The rest of the fighters were right where he had left them: staring with a distaste that stung even from afar. With a bitter taste in his mouth, the Nameless finally exited the structure.
At least one thing is certain, he concluded on his way to the food stands. My Endurance match will have no shortage of opponents.
***
Barely an hour had passed since the Nameless left the fighting cages. Full from his overly spicy but still enjoyable meal, he pondered his next move on the way home. This time, however, it was decided for him.
“How was your lunch?” The sheriff made his voice heard. It was distinctive: not overly loud, but still discernable in the crowded corridor in front of the Nameless’ apartment. “Or was that your breakfast? I never can tell with you young people and your routines!”
“Not too bad,” the Nameless said, trying to ignore his displeasure about being spotted first. After shoving a few more people out of his way, the sheriff became visible: tall and standing straight, leaned against a door. My door.
“Not to your tastes, huh? Don’t worry. You’ll find the third floor’s cuisine to be head and shoulders above the crap you have to eat down here.” A few passers-by turned their heads in response, but no one bothered to voice an opinion.
“I will believe that when I… taste it,” the Nameless said, overtly waiting for the sheriff to move to his side.
“You’re unimpressed,” the sheriff said. “Understandable, I guess. For you, that moment is somewhere in the future. But what if I told you that it doesn’t have to remain there?”
“Am I to believe that you will move me up right this minute?”
“Of course not,” the sheriff said. “I need a little more than circumstantial evidence and a gut feeling to make such a permanent decision, Bones. But, thing is, there’s an operation we have planned. Up until you came up, we’ve lacked the manpower to do it expediently. With you on board, however, we just might be able to move it up.”
“May I hear the details?”
“Of course,” the sheriff said as he slowly separated his back from the door. “But not here. I’ve set up a meeting above and I’d like you to attend. Meet the team and learn the details. Two birds with one stone.”
“I assume that I have little choice on the matter?” the Nameless said, more out of form than reluctance.
“You assume correctly,” the sheriff said. “It’s either that or I put you back in the box.” He leaned toward the Nameless just a little bit. “Be smart about this, Bones. It’s the chance of a lifetime.”
“I am sure that it is,” the Nameless said as he diverted his gaze toward the surrounding people. “So… when does this meeting take place?”
“In about—” the sheriff took a moment to look at his wristwatch “—an hour from now, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Lead the way,” the Nameless said, moving to his side as much as was possible without elbowing someone in the gut.
“That’s the attitude I like to see,” the sheriff said as he took point.
Some half an hour later, they reached the elevator hub.
“Going up,” the sheriff said to the guards. “This
one’s with me.”
“Of course, sir,” a man said, his fingers already working the controls.
He does not even have to show them his ID, the Nameless thought as the elevator door opened up.
“After you,” the sheriff said, and his guest obliged.
When both men were inside the heavy doors closed behind them. With the familiar grinding sound, the thing started to move, and the Nameless’ stomach responded in kind.
One step closer to the penthouse, he thought, inadvertently clenching his fists. One step closer to my answers. His gaze flew toward the sheriff, who noticed it. One step closer to my revenge.
“Don’t be nervous,” the old man said, not even looking in the Nameless’ general direction. “It may not seem like that right now, but the third floor is as much a people’s place as the second one is. More so, in fact. You’ll fit right in. Just don’t overthink it.”
“It has to be,” the Nameless said, his mind back in the moment, “since the second floor is more of a hive than anything resembling a city.”
“Hah! Too young to remember the major cities, are we?” The sheriff’s face caught something resembling a smile, but lost it within a second. “All the better, I guess. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”
Am I even young at all? the Nameless found himself wondering. Yes or no, it would be best to act the part.
“Indeed,” he said. “I can barely recall a hint of anything. How about you, sheriff? I assume that you have a lot of memories? From before the disaster, I mean. Perhaps even of the event itself?”
“Way too many,” the sheriff said, his brow furrowing. “None of them useful, of course.”
“No knowledge is useless,” the Nameless said. “Especially to one as young as me.”
