Ascent: Second Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  “Indeed we do.” The Nameless accepted the handshake, squeezing it firmly. “Let us make some blue together.”

  ***

  I will need to be at my finest for tomorrow night.

  Fully clothed and wearing his filthy trench coat, the Nameless shoved his way through the current of people that blocked his way out of the apartment complex. Even though it was not enjoyable at all, this particular routine had found its way into his heart. It reminded him that the hunt was on.

  He extended his elbows as he squeezed himself in between a pair who refused to give way. Better to make them uncomfortable than have someone impaled on a stray spike from beneath his getup.

  Which part of the ground floor should I prowl?

  He pondered the possibilities as he advanced. Then, out of the blue, something to his left grabbed his attention, shattering that line of thought. Neither a nose nor lips on that man… a Skull? He stopped abruptly, causing someone to bump into him from behind.

  “Hey! Do you mind, buddy?” someone else shouted from the back.

  Not saying a word, the Nameless left the line he was in and slipped into the one that went in the opposite direction. His target was some six feet in front of him, back turned and in sight. The man had a full head of messy brown hair, but he most definitely bore the disfigurements of the gang that terrorized the Underbelly.

  Is he trying to hide in here? With that face? The Nameless was almost insulted.

  For somewhere close to five minutes, he stalked the poorly disguised Skull. Then, as abruptly as he had appeared, the man turned to the right, and vanished through a doorway.

  So this is where you live. Patiently, the Nameless waited to get close. Gesturing for the rest of the line to go past him, he took a deep breath and knocked.

  The door opened slightly, revealing a skeleton of a man—in more ways than one. “Can I help you?”

  “Johnny, old friend!” the Nameless shouted, grabbing the door from the outside, and slamming it against the Skull’s body. Then, he rushed in while the man still regained his bearings, closed the entrance, and turned the key. “How has life been treating you?”

  “Wh—what do you want?” the Skull stuttered as he retreated toward the nearest wall, still on all fours. “I—I don’t have anything of value! I swear!”

  “How about your life?” The Nameless slowly pulled the sword out of his pants, careful not to cut anything. “Is that worth anything to you?”

  “But… Why?” The Skull’s eyes gleamed as if he was about to start crying.

  “How does revenge sound?” The Nameless took special effort to approach as ominously as possible. The man’s fear was palatable.

  “Revenge for what? I haven’t done anything!”

  “No?” The Nameless stopped his advance. He observed the man’s disfigurements. As with others of his gang, they had been made with a blade. “Then tell me, why do you wear the mutilations of a Skull?”

  “Because I was a member, of course! But I left! I left as soon as I saw what was expected of me!”

  Curious. “And you would expect me to believe that your own lack of character makes you somehow less deserving of death than your former associates?”

  “Hell yes, I would!” the former Skull slobbered as he talked, no doubt due to his lack of lips. “I’m no saint, but fuck me if I was cut out for such a life! Joining that outfit was the worst decision I ever made!”

  “Why did you do it, then?” The Nameless sat on the bed, now merely a foot away.

  “Why else? To survive, of course!”

  “A lot of people have stayed alive, all the way up to this day,” the Nameless said. “Without selling their souls, too.”

  “Sure they did! Like rats, or haven’t you been paying attention?”

  “And somehow you have judged yourself worthy of improving your life at the cost of theirs?” The Nameless gripped his blade.

  “No!” The former Skull said. “Ah… fuck it. Yes. Yes, I did, man. I fucked up. I fucked up royally. And I’ve been paying the price ever since. You think it’s easy for me to get a job here? Or anything resembling a woman? This face doesn’t exactly make me popular, you know?”

  “So, let me make certain that I understand you.” The Nameless raised his sword lightly, but he did not point it at the man just yet. “You have accepted mutilation in order to join the most feared gang there is, only to turn yellow and run when the time came to get dirty?”

  The former Skull nodded. The Nameless all but burst into laughter.

  “That is one of the funniest things I have ever heard,” he said.

  “I’m glad that you find my misfortune amusing,” the former Skull said. “But, what now?”

  “To be fair, I had planned on killing you right after I gave you a good scare,” the Nameless said. “But you have improved my mood so much that I now find the idea unwholesome.”

  “So… you’ll let me live?” The former Skull’s eyes lit up.

  “Not so fast,” the Nameless said. “You have seen my face, and you know that I am walking around with hidden weaponry. How do I know that you will not turn me in as revenge?”

  “That’s easy!” The former Skull made something resembling a smile. “No one ever responds when I call for help. I could try and rat you out the moment you leave the room, and no one would even come to investigate.”

  “I find that a little hard to believe.”

  “Honest!” The former Skull slowly worked his hands underneath his shirt. “If you let me I can show you. Please?”

  “Go ahead. But do not make any sudden movements.”

  After nodding, the former Skull slowly exposed his belly, revealing a sizeable collection of yellow spots. “I got beat up a week ago. Happens from time to time.” He let his shirt drop down. “The guards won’t do a thing about it.”

  “What is your name?” the Nameless asked after a moment of consideration.

  “Frank. Franklin Myers, but I haven’t used my full name in a while.”

  “Alright, Frank.” The Nameless rose. “I am indeed going to let you live. However, if I see anyone as much as look at me strangely, I will come back for you. Do we have ourselves an understanding?”

  “Yes!” Frank said, once again trying to smile. “You won’t regret it, man! I promise!”

  “And I hope you keep it,” the Nameless said as he hid the sword again. “Goodbye, Frank. Be good.”

  He did not look at the former Skull he left the room, and he knew that he did not have to. Given how much he’d scared him, it would be a while before Frank was mobile again.

  Now, the Nameless thought, once again within the crowded corridor. Time to hunt.

  ***

  The crowd’s roar was deafening.

  With anticipation, the Nameless neared the entrance to cage number three, his opponent barely a couple feet away.

  He certainly looks competent, the Nameless thought as his gaze darted over Jean-Pierre’s body. Somewhere around six feet tall, the man was in his prime. Nearly every exposed part of him rippled with lean muscle, and he did not keep all that much covered up. His face was pristine, a clear indication that he had not taken a lot of hits.

  “Are you gonna fight me or fuck me?” Jeanne-Pierre asked with a savage grin.

  “You will find out soon enough,” the Nameless said, dragging his knuckles over his now-smooth chin. He had shaved his beard more out of necessity than vanity; he did not want to be recognized by a stray gang member.

  “You may enter the cage!” the referee shouted, and the crowd roared once more. As he stepped inside, the Nameless could not help but wonder whether their ovations were directed toward an already existing fight, or the one that was about to begin. After all, the hanging squares can display up to five matches at a time. Mine is but one.

  “Men, I want a good, clean fight!” the referee shouted once they took their positions in the center. Knowing that he had a good half a minute or so, the Nameless scanned his surroundings once more. Th
e lights were blinding, and he could still not tell who the audience was cheering for. Regardless, the experience was intoxicating.

  So, this is what David was referring to. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the atmosphere. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  “Ready?” the referee shouted. In response, both men took a step back. “Go!”

  And the audience ceased to exist.

  The Nameless squinted, focusing on his opponent. Apart from Jean-Pierre, the cage, and himself, there was nothing. He took a step to his right, expecting something similar from the other man. However, instead of playing the guessing game, Jean-Pierre attacked.

  His movements were rapid. Had the Nameless as much as blinked, his opponent’s straight would have clocked him in the nose. However, the Nameless was ready for such an approach, intercepting the man’s punch with his left, while his own right was well on its way toward Jean-Pierre’s face. But the man was quite fast, deflecting the Nameless’ counter with his own free hand as he followed up with a trip attempt.

  No, you will not! Instantly, the Nameless shifted his center. His right arm, still extended, bent at the elbow, and instead of allowing himself to be swept down to the floor, he stepped forward. With a resounding crack, his elbow connected with the area around Jean-Pierre’s nose. Disoriented, the man fumbled his footwork and tried to step back.

  And you have just lost. Intent on using the moment, the Nameless went on the offensive. Still not having regained all of his senses, Jean-Pierre’s defenses were not on mark, and he took a punch to the head. As he stumbled backwards again, another hit followed, this one blowing the air out of his lungs. Deprived of what little fight he still had left, he tried to move once more, but instead only managed to fall down.

  Just in case, the Nameless took a step back, ready for a counterattack that would never come.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer’s voice pierced through the surrounding blackness. Shred by shred, parts of what lay beyond the cage became visible, and the audience followed. “Winner by knock-out, Horace Bones!”

  “Bones! Bones! Bones!” The cheering kept getting louder by the second, and it was not until the referee took and raised his hand that the Nameless realized that the exit had opened.

  “Great job, man!” David shouted from the outside. “Great fucking job! You’ve destroyed him completely! C’mere!”

  “You can go,” the referee said, letting go of the Nameless’ arm. “We’ll take it from here.”

  Still not completely in the moment, the Nameless stepped out of the cage, and the audience roared again. This time, he was certain they were cheering for him.

  “Who’s a rich man?” David grinned as he held a pair of mismatched credit chips up to the Nameless’ face.

  “Both of us?” the Nameless said.

  “Hah! Not only do you kick ass, you’re modest, too!” David put the money into a small black pouch before handing it to the Nameless. “You’re even better than I hoped you were, Bones. Come! This calls for a drink!”

  “You are buying,” the Nameless said.

  “And I wouldn’t have it any other way!” David put his hand on the Nameless’ shoulder as they proceeded up the stairs. Just as they were about to leave the amphitheater, though, he stopped.

  “Too bad you can’t see yourself fight,” David said, turning back and pointing his palm toward the large hanging squares. All five of them were active. Max, apparently known as Max Damage was having a hard time against a man of similar size, while cage number one contained—

  Is that…!? Wide-eyed, the Nameless stepped forward, and nearly tumbled down the stairs. On one of the squares, looking just the way he did in the Nameless’ memory, a member of the Rainbows was doing battle. Large and red-haired with orange streaks, there was no mistaking him for anyone else. Teeth gritted, the Nameless clenched both fists so hard they hurt.

  Greetings, dead man.

  “Bones, you okay?” David stepped forward. “I didn’t see you take a hit. Should I call for a doctor?”

  “Not at all, David,” the Nameless turned to face him. “Everything is perfectly fine. But if you want to help, there is something I would ask of you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Everything is moving forward.

  With a reinvigorated sense of purpose, the Nameless exited his apartment and joined the crowd outside. He was in good spirits for a change, so he decided to take a hike before proceeding with his usual routine. Knowing the floor in more detail cannot hurt.

  The proximity of other dirty drones was suffocating, but he didn’t mind anymore. The hallways were as claustrophobic as ever, but that was a fact of life. Breathing in the same stagnant air that everyone else did, he lightly shoved the man in front of him.

  But I must not allow complacency to overtake me. I am here on a mission.

  And what exactly is that? he asked himself a moment later. To take revenge on the Rainbows? Among other things, yes. David had agreed to set up the fight with the red-haired one, and the Nameless couldn’t wait. And once he had paid his due, what then? Hunt the rest of them, one by one? Is that all there is?

  Before he could even try to come up with an answer, the world outside his head demanded his attention again. He was out of the apartment complex, and free to explore. People hurriedly swarmed around everywhere he looked, and it was difficult to tell left from right. He was about to let the current decide the course, but someone forcefully walked into him.

  “Excuse me!” the overweight woman shouted. The Nameless didn’t even get the chance to note her features before the crowd swallowed her whole.

  “No trouble,” he mumbled to himself as he lifted his gaze. Just as he was about to turn back forward and resume his pace, though, something of interest caught his eye. A staircase… leading upward?

  It sprouted from the wall to the side of the apartment complex, and was being watched over by some six armed guards. Surprised that he had not notice it sooner, the Nameless lifted his gaze even further, and immediately took note of the many floors cut into the concrete above. Floors within a floor? He remembered a similar sight from the ground floor. Was this the same? He was about to find out.

  Removing himself from the line as gently as possible, the Nameless approached the guards. “Greetings,” he said. “Might I ask where this staircase leads?”

  A guard laughed as he gave his answer. “If you need to ask, then you don’t need to know!”

  “So, it is closed to the populace?”

  “Not exactly,” the guard said. “Jokes aside, the expensive apartments are up there. Complete with a view and everything. Afraid we can’t let you pass without a key, and I’m assuming you don’t have one. That or a half-pass, but I don’t recommend it.”

  “Why would you not recommend it?”

  “Well, given where you seem to live, I’d say you need to hold on to every dime—erm, chip you have. If you really want to take a look from up high, though, no one’s stopping you from buying your chance.” He pulled out a small, inscribed piece of paper from his pocket. “A red one and it’s all yours. For an hour, at least.”

  “Sold,” the Nameless said as he handed the man his money. “What happens if I do not come back in time?”

  “Then we hunt you down and drag you off to jail, of course,” the guard grinned as he scribbled something on the piece of paper. “Harsh? Hardly. We can’t have economy-class tenants rummaging through someone else’s hard-earned stuff.”

  Silently, the Nameless took the paper and stepped up toward the stairway. The men on his sides frisked him swiftly and effectively, finding nothing at all. Good thing he did not come armed.

  “He’s clean!” one of them said.

  The other one merely moved to the side.

  “Remember: one hour!” the chatty guard shouted. “Any more than that and we’ll have your hide!”

  “Understood,” the Nameless said, already making his way up the clanking stairs.

  After reaching the first f
loor-within-the-floor, he saw there were a lot more stairs to ascend. Despite this, he chose to approach the balcony and take a look down. It cannot hurt to keep some perspective before going higher.

  Like more or less everything else in Babylon, the sub-floors were made out of rough concrete. The relative distance from the perpetual hustle downstairs gave the air a freshness he did not expect, so he breathed in deeply before letting his gaze fall downward.

  Their numbers truly are endless, the Nameless thought at the sight of countless people going about their business. Himself a part of the same crowd only a few moments ago, he found it baffling how easy it was to mentally distance himself from it. All it took was a different point of view.

  But he’d never truly been part of the flock, and there was nothing that could ever change that. After all, he was a killer, and he would remain one for as long as he lived.

  I kill to stay alive.

  He tightened its grip around the balcony rail. I search for the Rainbows only to end their lives. He gritted his teeth. And when I finally find this fabled Management, what are the odds of that not ending violently?

  His thoughts turned toward a place he did not like, so he stepped away from the ledge. He turned around, heading back toward the staircase. If I wanted to kill myself, a greater height would be more appropriate.

  A man met his gaze on his way up. Respectfully, the Nameless moved to the side and let him pass. He was old, and bent from what appeared to be too much work. I do not envy him.

  Once the passer-by was out of view, the Nameless resumed his ascent. Except for the difference in height, the second sub-floor was identical to the first in both appearance and layout. In a deliberately slow manner, the Nameless observed the few and far-between doors that stood opposite the balcony. Judging by the distance between them, the apartments were likely quite big.

  He approached the ledge, finding himself having to hold back yet another suicide joke. What is wrong with me? The memory of his birth into this horrible world was still fresh in his mind, and something told him it would always remain so. He never wanted to suffer through anything like that ever again.