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Station Page 20

by Jarrett Brandon Early


  On several occasions, a particularly feisty Riser would move to intercept the trio, only to be pulled back by a seemingly higher-ranking soldier. As Hadder moved through the increasingly organized grounds, it became painfully clear that Albany Rott was correct; he would not have made it very far alone.

  Past rudimentary watchtowers and within the sights of various projectile weapons, Hadder, Cal, and Otho continued their journey, growing increasingly surprised by the organization through which they marched. More military base on acid than uncontrolled chaos, Hadder watched as Risers moved with purpose, reinforcing roadblocks, mending building weak spots, and repurposing debris into weapons.

  Eyes followed them everywhere, and soon they were shadowed to the left, right, and behind by several groups bearing arms. Although they maintained a safe distance, the threat of violence hung heavy and real in the air. If this was Riser downtime, Hadder wanted to do his best to avoid the Rising at Haela.

  The further south they trekked, the more ornery the Risers became. Taunts began to fly at them from all directions, then the occasional stone. Hadder made sure to pay close attention, dodging several, while Cal and Otho just allowed them to bounce harmlessly off their thick skins. One lone Riser, cutting a ridiculous shirtless figure in leather shorts held up by suspenders, sprung out from behind a slab of marble and clumsily swung a makeshift mace at Hadder's head. Hadder quickly ducked the strike and, seeing how unbalanced the swing put the man, dropped a vicious elbow across the attacker's nose, shattering cartilage and sending a fountain of blood into the air.

  As the Riser screamed and cupped his hands over his broken face, Hadder simply kicked the man over and continued walking. Although he refused to turn around, he could feel Cal, and perhaps even Otho, cracking small smiles behind him. All three knew that that would be the last of the lone Riser assailants. If another attack came, it would be a coordinated effort.

  The skeletons and dilapidated buildings that defined the early goings of their travels were soon left behind as an increasing number of fully functioning Bars appeared. Loud music could be heard coming from the open front doors of several, sharing an aggressive quality, whether metal or hip hop. Sentries were stationed on the roofs of almost all buildings, a blatant show of organization and force that contrasted with the secretive nature of the spies and scouts further north.

  A large Bar sat heavy in the near distance, clearly the most important building in South Rising. A sturdy wall had been constructed around the Bar, making it more compound than place of leisure. With Risers blocking their left and right, the trio had no option but to walk towards the compound, stopping when they reached a metal gate that guarded the entrance.

  As soon as they stopped, Risers moved in and tightened around them, forming rudimentary battle positions and wielding an array of wicked-looking weaponry. The metal gate slid open slightly, allowing just enough space for a tall, slim woman to pass through. It quickly slid shut as soon as she was through and facing Hadder and the Caesars. Black leather pants, boots, and tube top matched her black skin and black hair, which was pulled into a tight ponytail that cascaded down from the top of her head. Confident, fierce, and beautiful, she cut an impressive figure.

  "I am Kamaria. State your business," she said to Hadder, ignoring Cal and Otho. "If I don't like what I hear, I'll have you cut down where you stand. Nobody comes this far south without announcing themselves, Caesar guard or not."

  "I'm looking for Ego Rounds."

  "And what do you want with Ego Rounds."

  "To talk. Just to talk. I have a question to ask."

  She looked up to Cal and addressed him. "Who is this fool, Cal? Why do you accompany him? Who is he to Mister Rott?"

  Cal shrugged. "He's the new resident. He want's revenge. Father said help him get it."

  "Revenge?" Back to Hadder. "Revenge for what, Setter?"

  "A friend of mine was killed by a Riser who snuck over the Skirt. I want to find this Riser."

  "No one from our clique would cross the Skirt," stated Kamaria. "We have enough to deal with on this side of the border. To go poking around in the Setting? Tempt the wrath of Rott? Not us."

  "Fair enough," replied Hadder, "But maybe Ego would know of who I seek. Could point me in the right direction."

  Hadder could see the wheels turning in Kamaria's mind. Head down, she began to think out loud. "New resident. Seeking revenge in the Rising. Rott sending a Caesar guard. Is this the start of the Fall?" Kamaria's head snapped up to stare darkly at Hadder. "Who are you?"

  "Marlin Hadder."

  "But what are you?"

  "Just a man who has a name that needs a location."

  "No. I think you're much more than that. And I think that the fact that you don't know what you are is the only reason that you're alive right now. I'll permit you to speak with Ego."

  Kamaria then moved like lightning. One moment she was standing several feet from Hadder, the next she was jammed up against him, her long, sharpened metal nails pressed against his throat hard enough to draw blood. Cal and Otho reached for their weapons but left their hands on the pommels without drawing them. Everyone stood frozen.

  "Just know," Kamaria whispered in Hadder's ear, "if this is some trick to harm Ego, I will kill you. All the Caesars in force wouldn't be enough to keep my nails from your heart. Know this."

  "I understand," said Hadder, his voice straining against the pain in his neck.

  Kamaria slowly lowered her nails and yelled over her shoulder. "Open the gates! Tell Ego he has visitors!" The metal gate slid open on her command, wide enough to accommodate the large trio walking shoulder to shoulder. "A word of advice. Ego is smarter than you. Speak only truths. He doesn't tolerate liars or fools. You've proven yourself a fool already by coming here. Don't make it two for two. That math usually leads to your head on a pike."

  Hadder simply nodded and moved forward, torn between fearing Kamaria and wanting to kiss her.

  Hadder and his entourage walked through the courtyard surrounding Ego Rounds' command center, a Bar whose name read Thug's Passion above its large golden doors. The yard was much different than the landscape just outside its walls. Perfectly manicured grounds greeted the trio. Manikins could be seen carving shapes into hedges and planting those wondrous flowers that were common in the Setting. A small stream ran around the building, populated with iridescent golden coy that waited greedily near the surface for food.

  Hadder crossed a small bridge that traversed the stream and looked back in concern as the two behemoths followed, their weight making the poor bridge groan under strain. The golden doors swung open at their approach, pulled from the inside by two men wearing black jeans and matching black vests. Both men shared an Elevation that caused Hadder to look twice - the back skulls of the men had been replaced by metal casings, making them look like robots with human faces. After opening the doors, they moved to the side and waited at attention.

  Hadder passed through and into a long common room. Tables were placed to the left and right, where Risers looked up from their meals to look at the new visitors. Despite the plethora of furnishings and buzz of activity, the center of the room was left clear, lending Hadder and the Caesars an open path towards the back, where Ego Rounds could be found sitting on a golden throne placed upon a raised platform.

  Guards were stationed in front of the platform, long spears at the ready, and Hadder spotted additional protection to the left and right, where women draped in leather fingered hand crossbows. Hadder halted his approach a safe distance from the platform, not ready to invite violence from this imposing new character.

  And imposing was the word that immediately came to mind when Marlin Hadder looked upon Ego Rounds, a giant of a man who, although not near the height of the Caesars, probably exceeded their weight. Ego's girth reminded Hadder of the hippopotamus, that most dangerous of nature's creations whose enormous size hid layers of muscle and belied tremendous speed.

  Ego lounged on his golden throne covered in plu
sh pillows and animal skins. He wore loose black harem pants, black high tops, and went without a shirt, showcasing his unbelievable girth and a myriad of tattoos that were hard to make out against his black skin. Several gold dookie chains accented his golden-brown eyes that shone of light of their own, two bits of color that stood out against Ego's black face and thick, dark beard. Ego's hair was short and nicely shaped, with designs carved into it that had also been dyed gold.

  As Hadder stared at the hulking man, his eyes fell to Ego's giant hands, where he noticed metal knuckles peering out from black skin. Hadder imagined that a blow from those Elevated hands could fell a Caesar and would put a hole in Hadder's comparably frail chest.

  Two scantily clad women sat on either side of Ego, one petting his bare chest while the other peeled fruit with a knife. The knife seemed too at home in her hands, and Hadder understood that these two were not mere window dressing.

  Hadder and Ego stared at each other for a long while, Hadder determined to allow the intimating man to speak first, which he eventually did. "I see you met Kamaria," Ego said in a soft but powerful voice.

  Seeing the confused look on Hadder's face, Ego pointed a ringed finger at Hadder's throat. Hadder reached up and felt the blood that he had forgotten to wipe off before entering. "Impressive woman. I commend your tastes in sergeants."

  Ego laughed. "If I had a hundred of her, this war would be over tomorrow. But, alas, she is a rarified creature and one that I am lucky to have as a partner." Ego motioned to Cal and Otho. "I see you have made powerful allies yourself. Rott doesn't take a shine to many. What is it that makes you so special, Marlin Hadder?"

  "There is nothing special about me. Rott simply sympathizes with my plight."

  Ego spat out some of the wine he had been drinking. "Albany Rott? Sympathy? Oh yes, I'm sure that's all it is." The words were dripped in sarcasm and sprinkled with condescendence. "And what is this plight of yours, Marlin Hadder? Does it bring you to me today?"

  "It does. A Riser snuck over the Skirt a few Haelas ago and murdered a friend of mine. I need to find him."

  "And what will you do when you find him, Setter? Bring him to justice? Serve him a strongly worded letter? Gather a jury of his peers and hold a trial?"

  "No."

  "What then?"

  "I'm going to cut his fucking head off."

  Ego's eyes went wide. "Oh, now I see it. Yes, yes, you hide it well, but it leaks out in moments of passion, does it not? It eats at you, I know this. How have you managed to remain a Setter? How have you tolerated the pain of holding it back?"

  "It's an acquired skill."

  "I can see that. Well, you have to know, my men and women are under strict orders not to cross the Skirt or harm any Setters. But, I concede that even the tightest ships have leaks. Give me a name. If it's one of my own, you'll have your vengeance."

  "The Riser's name is Skeelis." Ego shifted uncomfortably on his throne. The woman peeling the fruit stopped mid-cut. Hadder grew impatient in the extended silence. "Do you know this man?"

  "I do."

  "And is he one of yours?"

  "He is not."

  "What can you tell me about him?"

  "You sure know how to pick your enemies, Marlin Hadder. Skeelis is a Riser in every negative sense of the word, perverted in mind and body. He floated around as a mercenary during the Riser Wars, working for whoever promised the most kills, whoever proved the most violent. He belongs to The Krown now, is one of his most treasured killers. You're going to have a hard time with that one."

  "How can I find him?"

  "You'll have to go north. The bastard should be hanging around The Krown's compound, a Bar called King's Head."

  "Thank you. Any advice?"

  "Yes. It's a long walk through a den of vipers. You and your Caesars should dine with me. I'd like to learn what you know before you march off to your death."

  "But I don't know anything of value."

  "I agree. You don't know shit. But you are something. Otherwise, Kamaria would have slit your throat in the street. We don't do favors on this side of Station. Everything has a price, comes with a cost. Your cost is a meal with me, time I need to discover what you are and what that means to me."

  "What could it possibly mean?"

  "Oh, not much. Just the fate of Station. And perhaps the world outside these walls."

  Ego tore off the leg of an unrecognizable, turkey-sized bird that had been wholly smoked and placed on the table between him and Hadder. Cal and Otho sat at a nearby table, eating quietly under the watchful eyes of Ego's followers. Ego spoke through mouthfuls of meat. "You have no idea why people take such an interest in you, do you Hadder?"

  "None at all. I feel very insignificant. I always have."

  Ego swung the half-eaten leg in the air as he spoke. "I'm sure that the Moon, when it looks down upon the grandeur of the Earth, also feels insignificant. When it looks down at its small, pockmarked gray body, I'm sure it feels trivial standing next to the blue oceans, lush green forests, and snowcapped mountains of Dunia, or Earth. How could it know the giant effects it has on the world, from creating tides to stabilizing axial tilt to lighting the night skies? It does nothing, and yet it exerts tremendous power. It feels small, but wields dangerous control."

  "Dangerous control without purpose sounds like chaos."

  "Yes, Hadder. Chaos. Perhaps that's what you are, a chaotic variable dropped into Station like a new virus, spreading throughout both Rising and Setting."

  "But why? Why would Mister Rott want such a thing introduced?"

  Ego sat back on his broad haunches, laughed softly. "Ahh, but now we're guessing as to the whims of a god, aren't we? The short answer, Hadder, is that I do not know. The long answer, however, is just that."

  "I have questions. But I also have time."

  "Very well." Ego signaled, and a petite Asian woman appeared with a tray of beverages, most of which Hadder recognized as typical Station concoctions. The young woman cut darkened eyes at Hadder, and he returned a smile that disappeared quickly as his eyes found the large whip strapped to her black belt, a small blade attached to its tip. Ego took an orange drink and slid another over to Hadder.

  "As I'm sure you're aware, Station was founded as a utopia for those who rejected or felt rejected by the natural world. What we call the Before. But Rott didn't account for something."

  "The Risers."

  "Yes. Not everyone is happy in a world of leisure. For many of us, that is a fate worse than the Before. Sitting around all day, manikins to feed us, clothe us, wipe our asses. There is a need for action, a call to violence in us that needs an outlet, and that just doesn't gel with many of Station's residents."

  "To what end?"

  "To give purpose to our daily lives. A reason to get up early, an excuse to train our bodies, a camaraderie built on more than casual sex and shared drugs. You've heard of the Soldier's Plight?"

  Hadder shook his head in the negative.

  "In times of war, bonds form that can never be broken or copied. Men count on each other in a way that isn't required away from the battlefield. It's terrifying, but in that fear you find real family, are truly alive. When the war ends, you grow to miss it, what it brought you. If the man next to you doesn't hold your life in the palm of his hand, what manner of friend is he really? When the bullets stop whizzing by your head, is a rollercoaster or scary movie gonna duplicate that thrill? Men fight for many reasons. But common to all is what war brings, something that no one talks about - a sense of being and community."

  "And you had that in the Before?"

  Ego downed his drink in one extended sip. "Yes, twice. First, as a military soldier. After I put in my ten, I got out and applied those skills to the streets. Within a few years, I had my city on lock, and my name echoed from coast to coast. And it was known, if you stepped in my city, you paid tribute, or you got got. Simple as that."

  "Sounds like you had everything you wanted. What happened?"

 
A heavy sigh spilled from the heavy man. "My children. I never wanted them to follow in my footsteps. My baggage of dark needs was my own, and I didn't want them to carry it as well. When Charles Jr. got shot in a nightclub over some bullshit, it hurt, but I thought I could move on. But when my baby girl got caught up, was gunned down with this piece of shit drug dealer she was with, the fight I had for that world flamed out."

  "But you found it again in Station."

  "I did."

  "And now you want to destroy the city."

  "No!" Ego slammed a meaty hand down on the table, his metal knuckles catching light from above and sending refracted rays around the table. The Caesars at the table over stopped their eating, waiting for a call to violence. "That's where the fucking Setters have me all wrong, have lumped me in with that psychopath The Krown, all because they cannot understand what it means to live a life of consequences."

  Hadder was honestly confused, and it showed clearly on his face. "Then what is it you want, Ego? I crossed the bones and ruins up north. I've seen the effects of the Riser Wars. Looks like destruction to me."

  "Nas said you have to destroy and rebuild." Another confused look from Hadder. "I am pleased with the way things are, Hadder. I don't want Station destroyed. In fact, right now, I'm the only thing preventing its annihilation. I want my half of the city, the Rising, to control it as I wish. I have no desire to take more or harm any Setters. I like playing games of strategy and violence, where losing means the forfeiture of lives. I was the best in the streets and I'll be the best here. But as I did in the streets, I only want to play with those also in the game. Shoot an enemy on disputed ground and you're a gunner. Shoot a woman on the way to the store and you're a murderer. I love my gunners, but I won't tolerate murderers."

  "I still don't understand."

 

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