Strife

by M. T. Miller

  Indeed, to White Knights, the First Skull was definite proof of the righteousness of their cause. God himself had seen fit to imbue one of their own with His blessing, and send him back to the world of man. With someone like that on their side, how could they possibly be wrong?

  When one of the pyramid’s higher windows opened and let something hang outside, everyone with a pair of binoculars was quick to use them. When they saw what it was, half of them doubted their eyes. The other half doubted their sanity.

  The First Skull, the indestructible and undefeatable servant of the Lord, was tied, strung up like an animal, and let hang by a piece of steel rope that had been fastened around his neck. His body was completely immobilized, first by another piece of a similar rope, then by something that looked an awful lot like bent metal bars.

  The men demanded to know what it was. Some officers shared what they saw. Others remained silent, either from shock or out of some foolhardy attempt at minimizing morale damage. Their efforts were in vain. Talk of doom spread around the camp like wildfire. If the enemy had the means of subduing that which was invincible, then what chance did they have?

  A booming voice echoed across the night sky, coming from the direction of the city. Dozens of binoculars turned toward it immediately, focusing on a familiar (and hated) figure that stood in the window above the hanging First Skull. Clad in black, Lord Nameless wore a hooded trench coat and held a speaking horn before his smooth, featureless mask.

  “I am Nameless, Lord of Babylon!” He shouted in a voice that pierced the heavens. “Once more, I am back from the dead! As you can see, your champion lies defeated, and your cavalry is in pieces! How many more must fall before you realize the error of your ways?

  “There is no division within Babylon! Its people stand ready, willing, and able to withstand anything you might throw at them! Our gates are impenetrable, and our supplies plentiful! Any charge you attempt, we will break like we did the last two! And even if you somehow manage to break in—” he pointed to the First Skull “—then you will face me, compared to whom your champion is but child’s play!”

  Not giving the Holy Army a chance to speak back, Lord Nameless disappeared back into the structure. First in discord, then unison, several officers tried to set up some sort of communication. All they said was ignored.

  The siege camp went silent when the last officer stopped talking. It would remain like that for hours.

  ***

  In a windowless room, the Nameless stood before Rush and David, his back pressed against the wall. They had people observing the Holy Army’s reaction to his proclamation, but he would not show himself again without need. For almost an hour now, he’d been describing all that had happened to him. All this time Malachi screamed out curses, profanities, and promises of eternal damnation.

  “We should have gagged him,” the Nameless said after his explanation was over.

  “Naw. I kind of like it,” Rush said, still trying to wrap her head around what she’d just been told. The front part of her hair was now short, probably blasted off by the explosion. It resulted in a violet set of bangs that went for her eyes whenever she moved.

  David was quick to get to the point. “So you just ran here without a plan?” His leg was broken, he still relied on a crutch, but at least he didn’t seem to be in pain anymore. The Nameless was glad to know that whoever had done it was most likely dead.

  “I had traces of one,” said the Nameless. “Disable the catapults, get rid of that curse bag, get back on the right side of the conflict. The way their cavalry gave chase and got slaughtered like that was a godsend. As for us catching the invulnerable one…” He looked at the nearby wall. “I think this blunder will cost them dearly.”

  “Yeah, ‘bout that one…” Rush crossed her arms “I pressed down hard while lugging him up to the window. Like handling a wiggling diamond. Not that I know what a diamond feels like, but you get the point.”

  “No one knows,” the Nameless said. “Not anyone willing to talk, anyway. The invulnerability seems to be a blessing bestowed by this Holy One. Several people like that exist, each different in what they do. Or in his case, what cannot be done to them.”

  “How many?” Rush asked, her interest piqued. “What can they do?”

  “I am uncertain on both counts,” the Nameless said. “But I think you will be disappointed. One can mend injuries, the other is used to deepen the Knights’ dedication to their cause. So far, the one hanging outside is the only one posing a direct danger.”

  “Oh,” Rush said, disappointed.

  Still crazy, that one, the Nameless thought. They might as well all die without setting foot outside, and she still thought about mending her boredom.

  “So, what now?” David asked.

  “We wait,” said the Nameless.

  “For what? The power grid to fail? Starvation? The Second Coming?”

  “As far as we know, the Second Coming may have already happened,” the Nameless quipped. “So you can write that last one off.”

  “You know what? You’re a fucking jackass,” David scoffed.

  I am. The Nameless lowered his head. He took his mask off slowly, as if he was hesitant to show his face again.

  Someone knocked on the door, interrupting the silence.

  “It’s open!” David shouted.

  “Sir, I think you might want to take a look at this,” a man said as he peeked through the door. He stared at the Nameless a bit too long for comfort, but that was to be expected.

  “Good or bad?” David asked.

  “The very best!” the man said. “They’re retreating, sir. The whole lot; packing their bags and crawling back!”

  David turned to the Nameless, then Rush, then back to the messenger. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

  “It doesn’t, sir,” the man said, his surprise so intense he forgot to smile. “But it’s happening.”

  The second problem with having a fanatical army is that it tends to break before it bends, the Nameless thought as he straightened himself up and stepped away from the wall. Silently, he went for the door. Rush beat him to it, making the messenger sway to the side for fear of being run down. David hobbled behind them, in too much of a hurry for his body to allow.

  They approached the window—the very same one they hung Malachi from—and feasted their eyes on the spectacle outside. Dawn was breaking, but this was barely noticeable on the western horizon. Still, the pristine whiteness of the enemy was readily visible, and it was receding before their eyes.

  Pleased, the Nameless allowed himself a long, hearty laugh. Malachi roared in frustration from below, but this only added to the appeal.

  “How did this happen?” David said once he’d witnessed the retreat with his own eyes.

  “Simple,” the Nameless said, not looking away from the opened window. “These are not soldiers. Not most of them, anyway. These are skirmishers, raiders, and opportunists, united by fear, hero worship, and blind faith. And all of it centered on this man right here. With him beaten and humiliated like this, I have not only beheaded them, but ripped out their spine as well.”

  “No way is that it,” Rush said. “They’re not gonna leave it at that.”

  “Of course they will not,” the Nameless nodded. “There is still a general, and an entire apparatus that works with him. Then this Holy One, and all the other so-called Saints. This will escalate further, of that there is no doubt. But for now…” He turned toward David and the people around them. There were around twenty, all armed and staring at him; volunteers with guns.

  For now, what? “We are safe, and get to live another day.” At least until they return.

  Everyone was relieved, that much was true. But that didn’t take care of the elephant (or god-tyrant) in the room.

  “You can relax,” he said, carefully considering his next words. He would have to get this next part right, or else he could wind up right where he started: the unsupported leader. “I have no intention of
making everything the way it was. The time I spent outside has taught me a lesson in humility.” He extended a hand toward the window. “What I said was showmanship; I am no longer Nameless, Lord of Babylon. I am now just like you, a man caught between a rock and a hard place.”

  “A position you put us in,” someone said from the crowd.

  “And that is true,” the Nameless said. “I will make no excuses. I have tried to fix this city, and in doing so made mistakes. What we are living through now is but one consequence of those actions.

  “But do not think for a moment that this was not inevitable. Remember, I have seen the Holy Army from within, and in doing so have glimpsed the doctrine of the One True Church. Their beliefs are incompatible with your freedoms, as well as those of the Movement. This war would have come at some point, and that is a fact. I did not start it. I have merely sped it along in my ignorance.”

  “Maybe they would have gone around this place,” someone else said.

  “Maybe,” the Nameless said. “There might even have been a good chance for that. And what would have happened then? You and your children would have lain as slaves to the old Management, mere cogs in a machine powering a game you had no stake in. Yes, you would have been alive. Yes, you would have been safer, but tell me this: would such a life have been worth living?”

  The crowd murmured. It wasn’t a decisive ‘no,’ but was still far better than a ‘yes.’

  A pistol-holding woman was the first to say something concrete. “No, I guess.”

  “I don’t know,” an unarmed man in dirty work clothes added.

  The seed of my winning this debate. “Of course you do not know. You have spent years struggling to get by in a rigged system, faced with long-lasting penalties for any sort of failure. This was all done on purpose. You were told it was to keep you safe, and to an extent it was, but the real purpose of Babylon was far more sinister: it was meant to crush you so thoroughly you would never imagine anything better.

  “And those who only try to avoid defeat, have no chance at victory,” he concluded.

  Another murmur filled the hallway, this one much louder than the last.

  “So what, now we put you back on the throne?” another man asked. “Rebuild shrines and pray for aid?”

  “I need my sustenance, so praying would be welcome,” the Nameless said with a half-smile. “But no, I demand nothing from you. I have said it before, and I will say it again: I am no longer Lord Nameless. From this point on, it is you who will determine this city’s future. And if and when you decide to fight, know that you will be able to count on my strength.”

  This time, there were no mutterings. In silence, everyone’s eyes were trained on the Nameless. He was right, and they knew it well. The pill was bitter, but this time they were ready for it.

  “I will interpret you not shooting me as agreement,” he said as he cautiously stepped to the right. “Now would you please let me pass? I have been on the road for days. All this blood and dirt needs washing.” And I need some rest.

  He turned toward Rush, who seemed beyond bored by his speech.

  “How about that drink?” he whispered.

  ***

  Rush pounced on him the very second they entered his apartment. The place was messy, and so was the Nameless, yet he couldn’t help but respond in kind.

  “I am filthy!” he said despite digging his fingers into her burning skin.

  “Yes, you are!” Rush said before planting her violet lips on his freshly-grown ones. She didn’t smell like a human being; her scent was artificial, chemical, but still very pleasant. His fingers traced along the lines of her fishnets as she tore through his costume. This was long overdue. A faint image of Lydia flickered before the Nameless’ eyes no more than once, but he let it pass. She was too dead to mind.

  When it was over, the Nameless and Rush lay beside his bed, resting on a red blanket and the pillows they had brought down. Rush was on her belly, both hands crossed below her chest as she stared into his eyes. Her bangs hugged the right side of her face, wet from her translucent sweat.

  “Now, why couldn’t we have done this before?” she said in a cheeky tone.

  “Stupidity on my part,” said the Nameless as he played with a lock of her hair. The thin rays of sunlight that managed to bypass his bed were playing with the shades of violet on her body. Her eyes, lips, even the skin, were all caught up in a dazzling game of light that made him want her again. For himself, and only for himself.

  Then he noted the almost invisible, vein-like tattoos on her shoulders, back, and forearms. Looking further, he realized that they extended all the way to her backside.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Does what hurt?” She smiled before realizing what he meant. “Ah. Nah. They’re almost gone. It’s prolly the stupid window that lets you see it. Lemme take care of that for ya.” She prepared to rise.

  “No,” the Nameless leaned in, holding her by the chin. “Stay,” he said, kissing her on the lips. She rose up toward him, wrapping both arms around his neck without interrupting the kiss. The way they went at it then, it was a wonder that the floor didn’t cave in.

  “If I smoked, I think this would be the part where I lit one up,” she later said, stretching her arms and legs as she sat with her back against the bed.

  An incredible woman, the Nameless thought, sitting less than an inch from her in a similar position. From head to toe, he caressed her body with his stare, again and again. It didn’t get old.

  “If I were a bitch, I’d have made ya pay a stupidity tax,” she said with a smile as she lowered an elbow onto the bed, then her knuckles on the side of her face. “But I’m feeling generous today.”

  “You are generous always. At least when it comes to me,” the Nameless said. “I have wronged you, Rush. I am aware of that, and I apologize from the heart.”

  “And he’s back to robot-mode!” she said jokingly. “Relax, Bones. I’m over it. Being told you were dead and then seeing you alive has been an eye-opener. I’m not even mad about the goddamn snake!”

  The smile disappeared from the Nameless’ face. He was about to apologize again, but regained his good spirits quickly. “As I said, stupidity on my part.”

  “Yup.” She leaned in slightly. “But no prob. You’ll make up for it.”

  The Nameless started leaning in as well, but the blood-freezing shriek given off by Malachi made him stop. He started getting up, but Rush put a hand over his shoulder.

  “He’s been doin’ that all day long,” she said. “Now he’s turned toward this way. Don’t worry, he’ll become bearable again once he stops turning. Way I wrapped him up, he’s not going anywhere.”

  “I almost forgot,” the Nameless said, “that you could hear him all the time.”

  Rush nodded. “Yup. Didn’t bother me. In fact, I think I kind of liked it.”

  “I wonder if he needs to eat,” the Nameless thought out loud.

  “I guess we’ll see,” Rush said, her smile dimming somewhat. “So… any idea on what we’re gonna do here? Or do we just wait for them to come back?”

  “I was hoping you would not ask this soon,” said the Nameless.

  “Yeah, killed the mood right there, didn’t I?” She flashed her colorful eyebrows.

  “I reckon we have to talk about it sooner or later,” the Nameless said. “Now is as good a time as any.”

  “So, what do we do? What do I do?”

  “First off, I will need you to get me a driver,” the Nameless said. “I assume we have at least one functioning car left. I will take it to New Orleans, where I will meet Hillaire and try to reach some sort of agreement.”

  “A car? Yeah, I think we do have a set of wheels or two,” she said. “I’ll make Torres give us a bigger one. So we can warm the backseat, if you know what I mean.”

  Now comes the hard part. “You cannot go with me,” he said.

  The speed with which her expression changed into one of irritation was nothin
g short of amazing. “Tell me why or I will toss you out this window.”

  “I will need you here,” the Nameless said. “Imagine if the Army turned back, or if Malachi somehow got free. Without you or me here, this city has no chance.”

  “I don’t give a single fuck about this city, Bones!” Rush growled at him, and not in a playful way. “What I do give a lot of fucks about, though, is you. Let’s say we’re going to get help, take a driver and car, and go somewhere we’ll never be found again! Imagine that: you and me, not having to drag ourselves through shit for someone who won’t appreciate it! Dunno about you, but to me that sounds like heaven on earth!”

  The True Church wants an altogether different heaven on earth, thought the Nameless. Her proposition was tempting. They could flee into the night and make the frontier their own. Villages existed up north, in areas no one cared for. The Mist made the large factions uninterested in them. Setting up another cult there would be child’s play.

  “But if I do that, then I truly am the monster they make me out to be,” the Nameless said. “I have taken from this world, Rush. I stole people’s trust, their well-being, and their lives. That would never change, no matter how many times I claimed it was for the good of all. If I don’t pay it back somehow, or at the very least try, the Church will be proven right about me.”

  Rush was fuming, but kept herself under control. The fact that she remained silent told the Nameless that he needed to say more.

  “This horror needs to end. I started it, and I need you to help me finish it. Can I count on you?”

  She turned toward the nearby wall. “You can always count on me, you stupid asshole,” she said.

  The Nameless tried putting his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off like a buck tossing off a rider.

  “I will make it up to you when this is over,” he said. If I am still alive by then.

  Rush didn’t speak for a long, long while.