Ascent: Second Book of the Nameless Chronicle

by M. T. Miller

  Besides, I made a promise to my only friend. The image of Horace’s brains splattering against the railway flashed in front of his eyes then, almost causing him to lose balance.

  To hell with this. The Nameless stepped backward, not looking down once. He strode back toward the staircase, and went up another sub-floor. Horace asked me to end his life. No, he begged me to do it. All so I could punish the scum who infest this dying land.

  His body completely rigid, he approached the third sub-story balcony. He checked his every thought and movement for self-destructive tendencies before putting them into play. This time, he would not allow himself to stumble even a little bit.

  The Nameless looked down. Last time, the people had appeared about as large as mice. Now, they looked more akin to the bee drones he often likened them to. But the question remains: does my work pay for its cost?

  He remembered the face of the other old man he’d killed on the ground floor. It haunted his dreams almost as much as Horace’s did. The Nameless was killing bad people, and that was a fact. But his track record was not perfect. Someone undeserving always got hurt.

  Chastity was right.

  Memories of his time in the Underbelly flew by. The cathedral. The beautiful sister who risked everything to help him. The Manhunters. And then there was Annabelle. What happened to her in the end?

  The Nameless was more conflicted about the redheaded woman from the Manhunter settlement than he was about everything else. On one hand, she had saved his life. On the other, she was a violating, murderous cannibal from a family of murderous cannibals. “Was” being the operative word. All of her kin were dead, slaughtered as a consequence of the Nameless’ actions.

  However, he and Horace had not managed to find her body among the deceased. If she is indeed still alive, the Nameless thought, then I wish her all the luck in the world. She is going to need it.

  He stepped away from the ledge. There was one more floor to ascend. One more question to answer. One more test of will to brave.

  Once he was at the summit, he did not immediately look downward. Instead, he lifted his gaze up toward the ceiling. It was so close he could almost touch it. What lay above that slab of concrete and steel? Only time would tell.

  You are still a monster, you know? he heard his conscience whisper. The Nameless could try to ignore it all day long, and he would still know it was right. No matter how many other monsters he killed, no matter how many lives he saved or tried to save, he would still be the world’s deadliest parasite. And someone will always get caught in the crossfire.

  Despite his better judgment, the Nameless let his gaze drop. His vision blurred. The crowd did not seem like it was made up of different pieces anymore. A river of people, indeed. His knees gradually got weaker. Scores of suicide jokes kept piling at the back of his head, easing him into actually going up and doing it.

  But I will not. He grabbed the railing as hard as he could. Then, he realized why he made that decision, and a smile crept onto his face. There are people down there. If I jump, I will be taking some of them with me.

  He stepped away from the balcony and turned toward the stairs, ready to begin his descent. I think I will hunt a bit earlier today.

  After exchanging a few words with the guards downstairs, the Nameless started hustling his way back into the apartment complex. I can spend the whole day debating this with myself. But in the end, I have no choice at all.

  ***

  He stood in front of the slum-house for a good five minutes.

  Come on! The Nameless told himself. You owe her. You owe her a lot. Regardless, he could not bring himself to step inside.

  What would I even tell her? That I got better by killing her old man? He considered lying, but quickly shot the option down. The girl did not deserve it, along with everything else he’d put her through.

  Suddenly, the sound of something fragile falling and shattering caught his ear. Immediately, he went for his sword, ready for violence.

  “Meow!”

  A small, furry animal crawled out from one of the narrow walkways around the rickety house, showing no fear at all. Moving as if it owned the whole place, the kitten approached the Nameless’ boot and started rubbing itself against it.

  “Ahoy there, little guy.” The Nameless slowly pulled out his sword, embedded it into the ground to his right, and got down on one knee. Then, clumsily, as if he had forgotten how to do it, he started petting the animal. “How are you?”

  “Meow!” the kitten said, purring.

  “I could not agree more.” The Nameless smiled. “Listen, I have business down here, so how about you run along? And please do not follow me. Things are about to get ugly.”

  “Meow!” the kitten said, rolling over.

  The Nameless kept smiling as he fondled the fur on the animal’s belly. Very slowly, he got up, and walked toward the house.

  Perhaps I lack the courage to provide what you deserve. He put his hand into one of his many pockets, pulling out the bag that David had given him. It contained almost half of his winnings. Carefully, so as to make as little noise as possible, he let it slide through the broken glass and wood of a barred-up widow. But I hope I can help you at least a little bit.

  “Take care, little one,” he whispered to the kitten as he turned around and walked away. Another hunt waited for him, and distractions were not needed.

  He turned around but once before the house disappeared from his vision. The kitten was still there, but the door remained shut.

  ***

  “I knew you were good,” Al said in-between bites, “but to down Jean-Pierre that fast, that’s Jesus-level kung fu you got going there.”

  The Nameless nodded, still in the process of devouring his chicken. It was his treat, and everyone ordered double.

  “I don’t think you can call that a fight,” Andrea said. “He fell down even faster than Max here did.”

  “Good thing I don’t fall that fast in the bedroom,” Max said, causing everyone to laugh. Everyone but Andrea.

  “How did your fight go, Max?” The Nameless chose to speak before Andrea would. “I saw that you were faced against another big one.”

  “Bad.” Max squeezed his palm around his right shoulder. “I mean I won, sure, but he did a number on me. I think I might have to take a break. Heal up, let my value drop, then start from scratch. The works.”

  “And who do you think will have to keep earning for his reckless ass?” Andrea turned to the Nameless. “I told him to take it easy, but he had to go balls-deep.”

  “First time I ever heard you complain about me going balls-deep,” Max grinned.

  “Yeah? Well, keep joking, you seven-foot baby!” Andrea shouted. “Just don’t come crying to me when you get dropped like old Turtle!”

  What? The Nameless stopped eating. “Excuse me?”

  “Unless he starts taking this fighting gig seriously, Torres’s gonna drop him. What part don’t you understand?” Andrea said.

  “I am referring to the Turtle,” the Nameless said. “What has happened to him?

  “He got released from his contract,” Max said, “to make room for you.”

  “Why did you not tell me this?” the Nameless asked.

  “And what would you have done? ‘Jeez, Mr. Torres, thanks so much for the offer, but I’m afraid I will have to decline?’ Get real, man. People would kill for what you and I have. People have killed for what you and I have.”

  “Excuse me,” the Nameless said as he rose. “There is something I need to take care of.”

  “Come on, man!” Max shouted from behind him.

  The Nameless did not listen, and quickly exited the apartment.

  David, I would have a word.

  He had been told of the man’s address back when they shared a drink, but the apartment was not all that easy to find. It was located on the second floor-within-floor, so the Nameless had to buy another half-pass.

  Of course, he lives among the privileged, he thoug
ht as he stared down from the balcony next to the entrance to the apartment. The river of people flowed underneath, the very same one he’d had to swim through so many times before. Having had enough of the sight for one day, he approached the door and knocked.

  “Yes?” The entrance opened, revealing a black-haired little girl in a silky white dress. Instead of a single room and a bathroom, behind her was a branching hallway.

  “Ah. Excuse me, little lady,” the Nameless said. “Does a man named David live here?”

  “Patricia! Who is it?” A familiar voice echoed from the right.

  “A scary, long-haired man, dad!” the girl shouted back.

  He did not strike me as a father. “Torres!” the Nameless said, just loud enough not to upset the child. “I would like us to have a talk!”

  “Bones!” David appeared within seconds. He was dressed casually, but his shirt and leisure pants still appeared expensive. “Get back inside, Patricia. Daddy’s working.”

  “Have fun, then,” the girl said before disappearing back into the apartment.

  “Friends come to see her more often than they come for me,” David gestured for both of them to stand near the balcony while he closed the door behind him. “So, Bones, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I have heard something… unpleasant today, Torres,” the Nameless said. “I thought it best to discuss the matter with you.”

  “Sure, go ahead! By the way, what happened to ‘David?’”

  Indeed, what happened to David? the Nameless thought. “I have just heard that you have given the boot to the Turtle.”

  “Of course I have. I can’t afford to keep you all on the payroll.”

  “You are not paying us, David. We split the winnings.”

  “Figure of speech, Bones. But not all that inaccurate. I’m required to pay for each fighter I vouch for, and old Turtle wasn’t pulling his weight anymore. Nothing personal at all, but I’ve got myself a daughter to raise, and I’m not letting her grow up like that.” He pointed toward the people downstairs.

  The Nameless did not say a word.

  “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be alright,” David continued. “He’s still good. Really good. But he’s as slow as molasses. His fights take forever and he only does one each day. I just can’t afford to wait until he’s back up again. Not when I can get you before someone else can.”

  “Would you do the same to me if someone better comes up?” The Nameless lifted his gaze.

  “To you, no. You’ve got a whole lot of potential. If something like that happened, I’d replace Max.”

  Another unpleasant silence followed.

  “I’m being honest with you here,” David said after a while. “It’s more than you’d get from anyone else.”

  “I understand,” the Nameless said as he turned away. “Have a good day, David.”

  “You still up for facing Fireball tomorrow night?” David asked.

  “Of course.” The Nameless looked at him sideways. “It will be a fight to remember.”

  Chapter Ten

  The cheers resounded across the amphitheater.

  He looked up toward the crowd as they roared. Seen from inside the cage, everything looked quite unreal.

  “You are in for a treat tonight,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Men, I want a good, clean fight!” the referee shouted.

  “Say, you look familiar. Have we met before?” Fireball said, causing the Nameless’ gaze to snap back toward him. He was lean but broad-shouldered, and the tightness of his singlet made him resemble a humanoid pit bull.

  Fernando Jones, better known as Fireball, the Nameless thought. Soon to be put out. “Perhaps,” he said. “Although I doubt I’d have remembered it. After all, a whole lot of people look like you.”

  “Ready?” the referee shouted.

  “You’re a funny man,” Fireball said as he stepped back. “Are you this funny when you’re taking a beating?”

  “You tell me,” the Nameless said, raising his fists.

  “Go!” the referee shouted, and the crowd screamed in unison.

  The Nameless darted forward at the very instant he was given permission. He did not forget the pain the Rainbows had caused him, and he was itching to pay it back with interest.

  Still not certain of what he was up against, Fireball tried to intercept his rush with a jab. Ducking underneath it, the Nameless delivered a crushing blow into his abdomen. Almost immediately, though, Fireball’s right knee rose up, hitting the Nameless in the face.

  But the red-haired man’s counterattack had been weakened by the punch he took, and it failed to knock the Nameless out. Like an uncoiling viper, the Nameless rose, connecting his elbow with his opponent’s chin. Under the force of the impact, Fireball’s head tilted backward, exposing the vulnerable spot in the middle of his neck.

  Enjoy your suffocation.

  With all of his strength, the Nameless struck the spot with his fist. Skin, bone, and cartilage gave way beneath his knuckles, and Fireball lost what little balance he had left, falling down on his back.

  The medics! the Nameless remembered in that instant. With a timely intervention, the bastard could survive. I will not allow that, he told himself as he sat on Fireball’s chest while the man fought for his breath.

  “Break!” the referee shouted. Frantically, someone tried to open the cage door.

  “Remember this sight,” the Nameless said, a moment before he covered Fireball’s eyes with his thumbs. “And take it with you on your way down.” And with those words, he drove them into Fireball’s sockets, pushing as deep as they would go. Then, when it appeared that there was no more room, he pushed them upward, all while slamming the man’s head against the floor as hard as he could.

  “Break, asshole! I said fucking break!” the referee kept screaming louder and louder.

  Turning to his right, the Nameless noted that the entire medical team had rushed inside, accompanied by three security guards. Rising from the soon-to-be corpse, he said, “He is all yours.” For what little that is worth, he thought as he slowly made his way toward the exit. The crowd was silent, as was everything else.

  “You motherfucker!” Torres shouted at him the very moment he was out. His normally pallid face was now as red as it could be. “What the hell was that, you maniac?”

  “Is there a problem?” The Nameless moved away from the cage, forcing David to follow. He tried his best to ignore Jake’s murderous expression when they passed him by, but that was beyond anyone’s capabilities. “As far as I know, I cannot be jailed for a murder done inside of a cage. I have done my research.”

  “Yes, there is a fucking problem!” Torres sped up and stood right in front of the Nameless, forcing him to stop. “So you won’t go to jail. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! You’re still done! In a month, when you’re grazing down in the slums, you’ll remember this day and will want to bite your own ass in regret! Too bad you won’t be able to fucking reach it!”

  “What are you talking about?” The Nameless said. “I am not disqualified in any way. Are you going to release me from my contract?”

  “Hell, no! I’ve paid good money, and that means that I’m stuck with you for the month.” David dragged his palm over his face, then gestured for the two of them to keep moving. “It’s just that no one worth a damn will step into a cage with you again.”

  “Surely there must be something we can do.” Little by little, the crowd started reacting to other events, but to the Nameless, they all seemed to stare directly at him.

  “Of course we can. Build ourselves a time machine and stop you from being stupid. That, or prevent the goddamn apocalypse, but I think the former is the worse of the two tragedies.”

  “So, there is no way at all for me to keep making money as a fighter?” the Nameless asked as they started ascending the stairs. The eyes of the audience followed their every move.

  “Glad you’ve asked. There is, but it’s going to be difficult. That being said, I
expect you to at least attempt it. You owe it to me.”

  “How come?” The Nameless turned and stared into David’s eyes. “I have already earned you something. Is that not enough?”

  “Not at all. We pay for our fighters by the point. I’ve yet to break even with you.” As if he remembered something, David pulled out another small pouch from his pocket and gave it to the Nameless. “You got me so pissed I almost forgot about this. Your winnings for today. Take good care of that money, Bones. You are in for a huge dry spell.”

  “Alright. I understand,” the Nameless said as he accepted the money. They were on top of the seat rows by then. “What is it I can do that is so difficult, then? I do need the money.”

  “Oh, it’s money you need, huh? Could’ve fooled me! I was certain you were out for blood!”

  The Nameless was about to say something, but the image on the screen grabbed his attention. Fireball had just been proclaimed dead. Four more to go, he thought, smiling ever so slightly.

  “Wow,” David interrupted his enjoyment. “You really hated that guy, huh? No need to reply, it’s obvious. Anyway, I’ll need you to pay attention now. Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” the Nameless said as he turned away from the gruesome display. “I am listening.”

  “It’s called an Endurance match,” David said, “You essentially put yourself up to fight anyone who’s crazy enough to do it. Everyone who enters gets a number, and we randomly determine the order in which you face them. You’ve got around five minutes of rest between matches. The event ends after you’ve beaten them all, or after you’re defeated.”

  So it will be a gamble for my opponents. They will be hoping for a somewhat later number, to face me after I have exhausted myself. “And how much would we get out of it?” the Nameless asked.

  “Enough for you to retire for a good while. But as I’ve said, it will be incredibly hard. Every once in a while, someone tries and fails. But you can do it. I know you can.”