by M. T. Miller
“My Lord!” the man shouted.
The Nameless didn’t like his expression “Speak!” he shouted back as he rose.
The man was barely breathing by the time he came close. “Th—there’s… been a, a—“ his speech turned into panting.
“A what?” The Nameless said. Being able to speak should be a requirement for joining the guard. “It is alright. Breathe, then say it.”
The guard let his hands rest against his knees and wheezed for a good couple of seconds before he spoke again. “Attack… on vehicle gate. Cars stolen… gate blown shut.” He resumed his panting.
Stick a tail on me, the Nameless thought. Well played, Tarantula.
“There is more,” the messenger continued, raised his head and looked into the Nameless’ eyes. “The Champion was there, my Lord.”
Behind his dented mask, the Nameless’ eyes widened. “Is she in one piece?”
“Maybe,” he messenger said weakly. “They didn’t say.”
The Nameless went silent. His hand tightened, pulling the trigger. Good thing the revolver was empty, or he might have shot his own foot.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Being taken to a hospital, I think,” the guard said. “Probably in an elevator by now.”
One more loved one, dead because of me? The Nameless turned toward the other men. “This area is properly secured, yes?”
“Of course, Lord Nameless,” a sergeant said confidently.
“Then you do not need me here anymore,” the Nameless said as he went past the messenger and toward the central pillar.
Chapter Five
The Nameless bit into his cheek, drawing blood.
Standing in front of a large one-way glass, he observed the doctors that swarmed within the other chamber. He barely caught more than a glimpse of Rush as they worked on her, and whenever he did, he was stunned by how blue it was. The Nameless was no mere man, but at least his own blood ran red. Her own distinct color unnerved even him from time to time.
Lives saved, men impressed, the Nameless mused. Tarantula fled, Rush critical. Win-win. Lose-lose.
The door to his left opened. He only turned to face it once he heard the voice of David Torres.
“How’s she doing?”
“I cannot see,” the Nameless grumbled, “and anyone I can ask is busy.”
One more figure followed David in and shut the door behind them. It was Sheriff Azarian.
“Report,” said the Nameless.
“A bit too soon for that,” the sheriff said. “But the general consensus is that we’ve won. Congratulations, gentlemen! This city is now at least ninety percent more germ-free.” He exchanged glances with the Nameless before continuing. “Ah, I see you’re not pleased by that joke. Apologies, my Lord. But it is true. The gangs put everything they had into this, and they were broken. We didn’t lose a single factory, and civilian casualties were minimal. I’d say we owe ourselves at least a bit of congratulations.”
“And we have lost the instigators,” said the Nameless, his gaze drawn into the other room by another quick flash of blue. And I might have lost Rush.
“That is true,” the sheriff said. “As well as the whole vehicle gate. Not that we’d have had a use for that anytime soon.”
“Better the gate than the factories,” said David. “I think we can all agree on that.”
The sheriff nodded. The Nameless didn’t react.
“How did this happen?” he asked.
“They had help on the inside,” the sheriff said. “Normally, this would have been difficult to pull off, but with us preoccupied with stopping the attacks, it was more than doable.”
Tarantula used the outlaws to distract us and threw them away. Would she have done the same with me if I had joined the Management?
“We’re still not sure, but it seems three vehicles are missing,” the sheriff continued. “We’ve also found bodies in what’s left of the garage. Blown to bits, of course, but possibly dead even before that.”
The Nameless turned toward the sheriff. “So these saboteurs have killed the gate operators while we were dealing with the distraction.”
“And then they fled in our cars, along with this Crew,” said the sheriff. “Yes, I think that’s about it.”
Magnificent. “Anything else?”
“Not for now. If there is, you will of course be the first to know, my Lord.”
“Thank you. You are dismissed.”
The sheriff disappeared from the room, but David remained.
“You’ve done good,” he said.
“I will be the judge of that,” said the Nameless.
“I’m serious. Priorities, Bones. If we’d fucked this up, there’d be no second chance. This way, you’ve bought us all at least a bit more time.”
“I know,” the Nameless said. “I just hope we use it well.” I hope Rush gets the chance to use it at all. Good thing she was unconscious. Spending time under the knife with her perception of time would likely drive her insane. If she did not survive the procedure, at least she would go in peace. This thought did not calm him at all.
“You alright?” David asked.
“Yes,” the Nameless turned away from the glass. “I am just… tired.”
“From what you told me,” David pointed toward the doctors, “she won’t be the first person you’ve lost.” He stopped for a moment. “If she dies, I mean.”
“I have lost almost everyone,” said the Nameless. “I would prefer for that to not keep happening.”
“So would we all,” David nodded. “Just remember this: your penchant for hanging out with Rush doesn’t make her more important than anyone else. She signed up to fight for the cause, just as we all did.”
“Yet she was the only one who was on to the enemy’s feint,” the Nameless said. And it cost her.
“I’m not saying she’s not important!” David pushed his glasses up with a finger. “Look, just try and stay composed. Don’t let this shake you. The shit is about to hit the fan, and we need you functional!” He smiled awkwardly, as if he’d forgotten how. “After all, if you won’t do it, who will?”
“No one,” the Nameless said. “I will be fine. Do not worry.”
“You should get out of here,” David said, taking a step back and grabbing the knob. “How about we grab a few beers? I’ve got a ton of stuff to do, but I can swing it for you.”
I was supposed to have a drink with her, but I rejected it. The Nameless barely prevented himself from looking at the operating room. “I cannot. If I do that, it will take me to a bad place. As you said, you need me functional.”
“Exactly!” David opened the door, stepping outside. “You should still get out of here, though.”
“I will,” the Nameless said. “I will not take more than a minute. There is something I need to do.”
“Fine. I will know if you take longer. I do have spies,” David said as he shut the door.
Alone, the Nameless forced himself to look at the operation. He could still not see Rush, and the center of the room was now more red than blue. Blood transfusions, he realized. Someone else would die due to these being administered to Rush. The Nameless did not care in the slightest.
“I took you for granted,” he finally said. “I took your company for granted, and I took everything that you are for granted. David has no idea.”
David was a good and smart man, but he never knew the isolation of being unnatural. Rush understood this, and even reveled in it in a way not even the Nameless did. For him, she provided a kind of camaraderie no one else could.
And now life is flowing out of her. The Nameless barely prevented himself from punching the wall. His stomach tightened almost as much as the base of his neck. But when he ran his fingers over his eyes, there was barely a hint of moisture.
Disappointed, the Nameless let both hands hang at his sides. He was beyond tears. He had seen so much death, he had none to spare for when it was important.
“I wi
ll not say that I am sorry,” he said. “You would not want me to. You are a fighter. Always were, always will be. Fight. Get out of this alive, so we can make who did this to you pay.”
The Nameless turned away from the sight, and went for the exit. “I will be waiting for that drink,” he said as he left the room.
***
The Nameless slammed the door of his room behind him, not bothering to lock it. Ignoring the books on the floor, he set forth toward Snake’s holding cell. He scanned it as he went inside, making sure that the thing didn’t slither out unnoticed.
This time, the Nameless didn’t introduce himself. He did not bother calling the creature out. No offering it better living conditions or trying to get on its good side. Instead, he turned toward the closest pile of rocks and kicked it hard. Pieces of stone slammed against the wall to the left, shards breaking off. Snake was not underneath.
The Nameless’ eyes moved rapidly. No sound, nor surface motion. Fine. Let us play a game. He approached a pile of leaves and dispersed it in a similar way. There was nothing underneath, but the sound of something moving nearby reached his ears. It was brief, no longer than a split second. You are running out of hiding places.
He came up to another pile of rocks, this one smaller than the last. A small patch of dirt was disturbed at its side, causing the Nameless’ muscles to tense up. No escape. He wound up his body, preparing to send the creature flying.
But Snake struck first. Or at the very least tried to. Its body flying out of the hiding place as if it were fired from a gun, the creature went straight for the Nameless’ calves. Hissing, it opened up its jaws, ready to sink its teeth into flesh. The Nameless grabbed it in the air at the very last second, his fingers digging into its scaly skin.
Holding Snake at the base of the head, the Nameless lifted it up, locking its head away from his face. Its body quickly wrapped itself around the Nameless’ arm, compressing it with a surprising amount of power. Small distortions started showing up on its scale patterns, and the pressure kept increasing. Within seconds, its weight doubled.
The Nameless had no intention of giving it any kind of chance. He moved his coat to the side with his left hand, and carefully pulled out the sword from its sheath. He lowered his right hand to the floor, still holding Snake and being held by it.
“I… I can show you things,” the creature somehow managed to shriek, despite its supply of air being cut off. It wasn’t a voice as much as a thousand hisses forming a sentence. “Things not even the Sun God knew…”
“Then why are you changing into a constrictor?” the Nameless shouted, holding the katana up above his head.
Not waiting for Snake’s response, he drove the blade through the creature’s neck, inches below the point where he held it. Now that it was pinned to the floor, he tightened every muscle in his body, and pulled mercilessly.
It was over before the creature even realized it. The blade tore through the entirety of its head, separating it into two clean halves. For a split second, the left side of its head twitched, and then stopped moving entirely. The rest of the body followed suit.
The Nameless rose, letting the now-dead Snake slide off his right arm. The pain, if he could call it that, disappeared momentarily, erased by the power of the sacrifice. His hand bled, the thumb and most fingers gone. It would fix itself soon enough. He closed his eyes, standing serenely above his kill. His breathing went steady. He started to visualize.
The mass of power was everywhere in Babylon, some created by his cult, most by the people’s worship of Babylon’s currency. He was still unable to access the latter, and the former seemed to flow into him at a steady, minimal pace. However, the life energy he had just reaped from Snake was not like that. He absorbed it directly, without having to think or try. It was as natural as breathing.
He opened his eyes, letting his gaze rest on the body. It bled red.
“This was long overdue,” he said as he headed back to his room. Bloody footprints followed every step he made.
Chapter Six
Elbows resting against his knees, the Nameless sat on one of the countless seats of Babylon’s amphitheater. His gaze alternated between three of the five fighting stages below, the ones where combat was in progress. The fights calmed him down, negating a piece of the tension he’d been in for the last four days. He didn’t even bother to put the mask on when he left the apartment.
“How is she?” someone said from his right. It took a while for the Nameless to turn. He didn’t want to miss the pummeling in cage three.
Short, stocky, and bald, there was no mistaking the figure for anyone other than Jake, the man in charge of the place. The Nameless focused on his hands, noting that he held a pair of pints.
“Your offer is appreciated, but I do not drink anymore,” he said. “As for Rush, she has survived the surgery, but nothing is certain yet. The doctors are having enough trouble keeping her unconscious.”
Jake sat down, keeping a bit of distance from the Nameless. He took a chug of his beer, lowering the other one between them. He seemed hesitant to speak.
“I like to think that the worst is over,” the Nameless said. “After all, Rush does recover quickly. But to what extent, I do not know. Worse off, if she rouses early, she might tear her stitches. I do not think she would survive another rupture.”
Jake took another swig.
“I do not remember you being this quiet,” the Nameless said.
“I didn’t know I spoke to a god before,” Jake said, looking at the just-finished fight in cage number three. A hirsute ape of a man towered above a much smaller, wirier one. The hairs on his face and chest were sticky with blood.
The Nameless recalled the time he’d spent in the fighting pits. Although it was brief, he remembered it fondly. “What happened to the old crew?”
“Went their separate ways,” Jake said after taking another long sip. “Max hit the bottle. Quit. No idea where he’s at. Andrea still fights from time to time, but I keep seeing her less and less. Al’s retired. Think he bought a stand and opened a restaurant. Erm… I forget who else you hung out with.”
James and Nathan, the Nameless thought. “No matter. I have heard enough.”
It took a long minute of beer-chugging for Jake to speak again. “So… are you for real? Am I to be executed for asking this?”
No, but you might get hit by a stray explosion. “I only execute scum. You helped me back when I needed it most. Our falling out is unimportant. You have my respect.” A pair of female contenders was entering cage four. The Nameless followed their movements. “You said yourself that I fought like no man you’ve seen, and I am certain that you’ve heard tales of my exploits.”
He looked at his hand, contracting and releasing the fingers. Four days had passed since last he took a life, and there was no onset of lethargy. Perhaps the cult is doing something after all.
“Sometimes tales are just that.”
“And sometimes a god is just that,” the Nameless said.
Jake chose to respond by finishing his beer. The Nameless didn’t interrupt, instead feasting his eyes on the violence below. It was only when something moved to his right that he looked away. A man was walking straight toward them, wearing a guard’s uniform. His eyes were bloodshot, a common consequence of having to push and yell through the second floor’s river of people.
“Lord Nameless,” the man said, standing at attention. “Governor Torres has urgent news, and asks for your presence in his office!”
The Nameless rose. “He did not tell you what it was?”
“No, my Lord! He did say it was important.”
Of course it is, the Nameless thought. Else he would not have summoned me like an employee.
“Necessity calls, Jake,” he said, looking down on the cage manager. “Apologies about the beer.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said. “It won’t go to waste.”
***
“Here I am,” the Nameless said as he shut th
e door behind him.
The office of the now-deceased Snake had become more practical after they’d emptied it of his collection of Native American artifacts. David kept it clean and efficient, just like everything else. There was no room for decoration in his world; everything either had a purpose, or would get thrown out. The old desk was still there, though, and he and the sheriff sat around it, staring at a piece of paper.
“Have a seat,” David said, leaning back. “You’ll need it.”
The Nameless froze up. “Is Rush…?”
“Fuck Rush!” David slammed the desk with his palm, sending the papers flying.
He… he dares? The Nameless’ fingers contracted. He furrowed his brow, his stare drifting between David and the sheriff. Azarian kept his expression straight, but his eyes betrayed amusement. He obviously enjoyed seeing the Nameless’ buttons pushed since he couldn’t do it himself.
David raised his hand, running his palm over his face. “Sorry. I went out of line.” He stuck his hand inside the mess of papers, pulled one out, and extended it toward the Nameless. “Look at this and you’ll understand why.”
The Nameless needed the better part of a second to get moving again. He allowed the new Management he’d formed a bit of leeway, but this was too much. He looked at Azarian out of the corner of his eye. And in front of the new sheriff, as well… he took the paper and raised it in front of his face, not sitting down.
Army, it read. From White City. Thousands. The Nameless stared at it for a while, as if he expected the words to magically change. With my luck, it would become something worse. He grabbed a chair, dragged it closer with one hand, and sat down, still not completely near the desk. “I assume this came in from the scouts?”
“Of course,” the sheriff broke his silence. “We called you as soon as we read it.”
“And how old is this news?” the Nameless asked. They probably heard of the mass dungeon escape. Want to capitalize on our weakness.
“Fresh,” David said. “Scouts communicate over long distances by flashing lights in Morse code. Upside of this is that it’s quick. Downside is that it’s only reliable at night, so this message is some fourteen hours old at worst.”