"Rott wanted to create a utopia, but he thought one size would fit all. It wouldn't. But two sizes will. I want the Rising to be that other size, for those who are willing to pay the ultimate price for living the ultimate life."
"And The Krown?"
Ego's face darkened, something Hadder thought impossible. "Ronald Cronowski. Juice head. Woman abuser. Dog kicker, for all I know. Rumors are he had it rough growing up, with a dad who kicked the shit out of him on the regular and a mother who turned tricks while daddy was at work. Sometimes, the young boy at home was thrown into the deals. As he got old, he got angry. As he got angry, he got nasty. As he got nasty, he got violent. Gym, juice, and violence was all he engaged in. He was in and out of jail before he found his way here. And once he discovered that he could inflict pain with Elevations, there was no stopping him. There were many reasons for the raising of the Skirt, yours truly included, but none played a bigger factor than Ronnie, who now called himself The Krown."
"You obviously see a difference between the two of you. Maybe I don't. Help me see."
"I want to control the Setting. I want it to play out like the streets. I welcome little factions or crews to spring up, try to usurp my control. I want smaller Bars to jostle for power, I want to move them around like chess pieces. My dream is to make the Rising an alternative to Station's floundering existence, where stakes are high and decisions always come with drastic repercussions. But most importantly, I want it to be a choice. You want to experience this life? Cross the Skirt and it's yours. Sounds horrible? Fine, stay in the Setting and enjoy the luxuries that soften your muscles and dull your minds."
"And The Krown? What does he want?"
"He only knows carnage, only wishes to invoke pain. The Rising is just a stepping stone for him."
"Stepping stone to where?"
"First to the Setting. Then, my guess is he wants out."
"Out? Out of the city?"
Ego leaned in and his eyes flashed in seriousness. "Yes, Hadder. Think about it. Think about the damage he could do in the Before. He has a head full of rage and an army of disciples, all with combat Elevations. Right now, the walls of Station, the Caesars, and yours truly keeps him confined, but out there they've never seen a monster like him. His fire will rage unchecked; he will destroy all in his path."
Hadder finally understood. And it terrified him. "He wants revenge against the world. For what it did to the boy he was."
"Not just him, Hadder. Many in Station want the same. We've taken bad chickens out of the coop, tied blades to their claws, and could now place them back among the group. I see tremendous blood ahead if that happens."
"One thing I don't quite get; how do I fit in all this?"
Ego took another drink, handed another to Hadder. "We've reached an uncomfortable stalemate. The Krown and I are equally matched. While he has many more followers, my men and women are much more organized and disciplined. Likewise, he doesn't have the numbers necessary to simply power through the Skirt. Remember, Risers are homicidal, not suicidal. The Caesars are beyond formidable, and Albany Rott hasn't begun to show his real power, much less where his loyalties lie. However, if The Krown were to defeat me, absorb my army and resources, he may have what he needs to overtake the Skirt, run ramshackle over the Setting. From there, he may have what he needs to bring the Wall down."
"Usher in the Fall."
"Yes, you know?"
"I heard it spoken of. But this still doesn't account for my role in all this."
Ego mulled this over for several seconds before speaking. "Honestly, I think Albany Rott tires of this balanced imbalance. Maybe he grows bored. But he wants to see chess pieces moved, and I think you are his pawn to e4, a chaotic element introduced to a stagnant layout. A drop of blood in a pool of piranhas. Something to stir the pot, mix the elements, force hands."
Now it was Hadder's turn to think for a moment. "Do you think The Krown sent Skeelis over the Skirt to kill my friend?"
Ego gave the question real consideration. "Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps he sent Skeelis to test the Caesars' defenses. Perhaps he sent Skeelis to create fear and foster anger. Remember, if the Setting gets to the point where they want to attack the Rising, The Krown still gets his way, achieves his objectives. But most likely, Skeelis got high on some brain-melting gas and wandered over with bad intentions, found doors ajar, discovered a young girl in the shadows."
Hadder remembered the smile on Skeelis's face when the fiend saw Hadder in The Soiree Noire, like he knew the pain he was about to inflict was going to cut deep. But Skeelis failed to see that he had cut too deep, that he had unearthed something Hadder had worked hard to bury. He decided not to share this with Ego Rounds.
"Penny for your thoughts, Hadder. You look like you're stewing over something there." Hadder's eyes rose and Ego's head snapped back a bit from what he saw in them, something he was sure Rott had seen long ago.
"I was wondering if I should just kill both Skeelis and The Krown while I'm in the North. Put an end to all this bullshit."
Silence. And then deep laughter that sent waves across Ego Round's shirtless body. Other Risers who had been holding guard and listening in also began to laugh. Even Cal and Otho shared a small chuckle between sips of drink. Ego grabbed another leg from the cooked carcass. "You would be doing me a great service, Hadder. But you should know, The Krown would quickly impale you on those spikes of his and walk around with you for a week, allowing your body to decompose in front of everyone. Stick with Skeelis for now; you'll have your hands full with him. In fact, I give you a one in three chance of making it back alive." Ego could see Hadder's eyes flare, so he added, "Oh, I don't question your heart, Hadder. And Lord knows I don't doubt your Rage. But you're going against a man every bit as crazy as yourself, but with years of combat Elevations. I'm sorry, my friend, but it doesn't look good."
"I'm counting on that. And I hope Skeelis's face is frozen in a disdainful laugh when I bring his head back across the Skirt."
Ego's meaty hand hit the table again, almost splintering the weathered wood. "Oh, but Hadder, you would make an excellent Riser! When your business is done in the North, and when you realize that the Rage is not quieted, join me here and we'll conquer the Rising together."
"Something tells me it wouldn't end there."
"Well, of course not. Then we would have a falling out, split the Bars amongst ourselves, watch as loyalties are divided, and wage a proper, respectable war against each other. What do you think?"
"I think your utopia is my nightmare."
"No, Hadder, you'll be walking into your nightmare shortly."
CHAPTER 19
Viktor Krill Lives!
There it was again, spray-painted on the lone wall where a Bar once stood. This was the third time Hadder had seen the message since the trio crossed over into North Rising, also known as the dominion of The Krown.
After his conversation with Ego Rounds, Hadder was once again invited to join the party of violence that defined Station's eastern third, but not before Ego provided Hadder with the general location of The Krown's encampment. Like Ego's, it was far from the Lethe, which separated their two controlled territories, and could be found in the northeast corner of the city.
Not wanting to run the entire Rising gauntlet, Hadder, Cal, and Otho simply went west from Thug's Passion, hitting the Skirt and following it north, back across the Caesar Bridge, where Hadder left his now-stifling jacket, and high into the city. When the northern Station Wall was in view, they cut east, entering the post-apocalyptic Mad Max world of The Krown.
This far from the Lethe, Hadder expected the landscape to mirror that of The Krown's nemesis to the south - defensive fortifications, military precision, and controlled chaos. Other than chaos, the uncontrolled kind, Hadder saw none of these things. North Rising was a complete wasteland, complete with razed buildings, half-eaten carcasses, and scorched earth where wildfires were employed as weapons.
Ten minutes into The Krown's terri
tory, Hadder had seen very few Risers, and those he did seemed little more than scavengers, carrying trash they found back into sad, flapping tents that served as home. With very little else to note, the repeated graffiti messages were even more glaring. Hadder was unable to wrangle his curiosity.
"Who the hell is Viktor Krill?"
Cal and Otho shared a strange look, one Hadder had grown accustomed to in his short time with the behemoths. The look said that they knew something, didn't like what they knew, and weren't about to share what they knew with Marlin Hadder. Hadder kicked a loose stone in frustration, hurting the top of his foot, and made a mental note to ask others about this man who seemed so popular in the Rising.
On they walked, seeing more of the same, namely destruction of the highest order. With almost no organized protection to be seen, Hadder wondered why Ego couldn't easily take this turf with his sophisticated military tactics. Just ahead, a previous Cluster of Bars must have been the scene of a vicious fight. The bones of the Bars remained intact, decorated with burn marks, deep divots, and more of the same message.
Viktor Krill Lives!
The spaces between the ghosts of Bars had been filled in with large debris, probably taken from demolished buildings farther south and closer to the Skirt. The large piles of wreckage effectively cut off many of the options the trio had, forcing them to pass between two large buildings that faced and mirrored each other, most likely co-themed Bars from another, less violent time in Station's history.
As it was fast becoming late in the Solay, with the Idol Moon quickly retreating into itself, thicker darkness was descending on the city. This darkness only deepened as Hadder and his escorts passed between the towering buildings, sad things that seem to cry out for a return to the days when beautiful women and smart-looking men waited anxiously to gain entrance through their grand doors.
As they marched headlong into shadow, Cal and Otho began to look around, their large noses twitching. Cal looked down into Hadder's questioning eyes and said, "Risers. Lot's of em." Hadder kept a constant pace, not wanting to appear startled, but began searching the constrictive space around him. He saw the briefest of motion in a darkened window on the third floor. The soft sound of feet on dirt could be heard everywhere but seen nowhere.
The three continued on, wanting nothing more than to be free of the two monoliths at their sides, having had enough of feeling like cattle being herded to slaughter. As they approached the end of the twin buildings, a figure stepped out to block their path. Hadder, Cal, and Otho halted, taking a measure of the man. Although dark, the man stood beyond the deep shadows of the large alley, allowing the last rays of Solay to illuminate his frightful form.
Wearing only dirty jeans and worn black boots, the man didn't need clothes to look dramatic. That effect was created by the metal tusks that adorned his face, jutting out from each side of the man's jaw to kiss the air before him with a pointed touch. Although he had thick, should-length hair, few would notice, their eyes instead being drawn to the metal horns that leaped from the man's forehead, curling slightly backward. Not large, the man was imposing nonetheless, with tensed muscles looking prepared to uncoil on anyone foolish enough to get close.
As usual, Hadder was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. "I'm seeking a meeting with The Krown. I have a question for him, nothing more."
The man chuckled, making his blue eyes flash brightly in the dim surroundings. "You think this is a conversation? Or maybe even a negotiation? I can assure you it is neither. Take them."
Cal and Otho immediately dropped into fighting stances, their weapons appearing in their hands as if by magic. Hadder followed their lead, cursing himself for not bringing an instrument of his own. For the first time, Hadder felt that he may have put too much into Rott's promise of safe travel. Had Rott already lost more power than he imagined?
To either side and behind the trio, men began to emerge directly from the walls of the twin buildings. As they stalked forward, Hadder saw that their skin moved strangely, shifting from that of concrete to a grayish complexion that helped them blend into the shadowy background. Scores of the mimics appeared at once, surrounding the trio on all sides. From above, each window became occupied by a Riser, projectile in hand.
Caught in a trap, Hadder and the Caesars touched backs, guarding against sneak attacks. As the throng of mimics tightened around them, Otho grew tired of the posturing, slamming his broad ax through the meager defenses of a closing mimic and the metal pole it wielded as a weapon, splitting the man in half like a piece of firewood. Gore shot up like a paint bomb, covering mimic, Caesar, and man alike, forcing everyone to literally see red as battle rage engulfed all.
Hadder welcomed it, giving in to the Rage.
An explosion of action followed, the instantaneous violence reminding Hadder of the kung fu movies of his youth. Cal chopped down with his right sword, which was deflected by a mimic's oversized machete, but immediately backhanded with the same weapon, neatly slicing off the top half of the defending mimic's head.
Hadder wanted nothing more than to enjoy the scene but quickly found himself fending off attacks from two other mimics. The first came at his chest with a curved knife while the second swung a hammer overhand at his head. Hadder caught the wrist of the knife-wielder, pushing the blade out to pass in front of his body. In the same motion, Hadder executed a front kick on the second assailant, a perfect defensive Muay Thai technique for creating space. Catching the mimic squarely in the chest, air flew from the creature's lungs as the hammer flew from his hand. Hadder plucked the hammer from the sky and came down in a single move, caving in the skull of the first attacker, whose body went limp, sending the curved knife to the ground. Not wanting to leave himself open, Hadder simply kicked at the curved blade, sending it flying towards mimic two, who easily dodged the sloppy attack. But in doing so, he left his side unguarded, which Hadder happily took advantage of, blasting his shoulder with the hammer. The mimic fell to one knee as his clavicle shattered, turning to face Hadder, a curse forming on his lips. The curse fell flat, however, as his jaw was separated from his face by Hadder's next blow.
Pandemonium followed, rendering Hadder unable to even account for his own actions. Otho swung his giant ax in an arc, keeping fiends at bay, occasionally sending entrails high into the air. Cal took a more calculated approach, selecting targets and executing deft attacks and defensive maneuvers. A mimic's throat was slashed here, an eye was removed there.
Meanwhile, Hadder had to work extra hard to remain alive, fortunate that most mimic attention was on the imposing Caesars. Facing a variety of opponents, Hadder traded his hammer for a pickaxe, which he gladly left in the chest of a mimic in exchange for a slim rapier-like blade that almost made him a eunuch. After piercing a charging mimic's heart with the rapier, Hadder was surprised to see that his area had cleared, with overwhelming attention being placed on the Caesars.
Looking forward, there was nothing between Hadder and the tusk-faced man, who was obviously calling the shots in the battle. He remained standing at the end of the twin buildings, body cocked for violence as he surveyed the battle. He looked to Hadder and smiled, a natural act rendered unnatural-looking by the metal implants. Something snapped in Hadder, and he charged ahead, desperate to cut the accessories from the man's face and end this fight.
As he ran, Hadder planned his strike, considering potential attacks and counterattacks, readying himself for a bloody affair. Closing in, however, Hadder was surprised to see that the man had barely moved, had only brought his fingers to his mouth. A shrill whistle rang out across the alley, and Hadder doubled his efforts, afraid of what he knew was coming next. The tusked man was just outside of striking distance when the first quarrel struck him in the neck, his legs immediately turning to jelly. Hadder pressed on, readying his blade as two more bolts hit home, one latching onto his forearm and the other catching him just under the jaw.
Hadder took two more steps and fell face first at the feet of the t
usked man, who remained unmoved during the whole ordeal. As unconsciousness fell over Hadder, he heard another whistle, sounding as if from a far-off land, and the ringing of metal on metal fell quiet.
Icy cold wetness ripped Hadder from his deep slumber, transplanting him from a nightmare of blood-stained concrete, crumpled metal, and torn flesh into another only slightly less uncomfortable. As his eyes fought their way open, Hadder became aware of the pain in his hands, a thousand needles piercing his soft flesh. He raised his head and looked over, blinking away the water that had been unceremoniously thrown in his face, to find that his wrists had been tightly bound to a wooden board that ran across his shoulders. After feeling another board that ran vertically from the floor, Hadder quickly realized that he had been strapped to a crudely made cross. Out of mere reaction, Hadder tested the bindings, only to discover that they had been tied by a skilled hand.
Deep laughter, heavy and evil, tore Hadder from his physical predicament and demanded attention. Hadder raised his eyes and fought back a wave of terror that momentarily threatened to overtake him. Panic avoided, Hadder took note of the monster that sat before him. The beast that could only be The Krown.
While not as girthy as Ego Rounds, The Krown was a giant nonetheless, one that didn't hide his muscle under layers of fat. Looking as if he was chiseled from white marble, the hulking man sat on a throne of bones that was bound together with a clear epoxy, allowing one to view the remains that made up the macabre chair in all their glory.
The Krown wore black leather pants, black combat boots, and, like Ego Rounds, went without a shirt. Red, pink, and white scars crisscrossed the man's enormous white chest, a timeline of battles and wars. Putting aside Ego's unimaginable mass, The Krown was the largest man Hadder had ever seen, only marginally smaller than a Caesar. His jade eyes flared from a wave of deep anger, highlighting snakelike pupils, apt given that Hadder felt like a mouse cornered by a viper.
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