"Grrraaah," he managed to form from a guttural memory of communication, the man before him familiar, but the fog not allowing him to press further. The animosity inside of him was swelling like a deep, festering wound that was ripped open anew. Demoreo. The fire burned inside of his head. Jordan Branch did this to you. He bolted up to his feet in a rage, slamming his body against the cell door, sending Branch tumbling onto his ass. "Grah!"
"Still a lively one," Branch sighed. "I fear that it's too late into his development to try anything else."
"I suppose so," a darker-skinned man in a white lab coat stared down at a readout in front of him on a chain of paper that extended all the way to the ground. "He was a fine experiment, Mr. Branch, he's just, well, he's not really responding to the treatments. He still flies into these fits of rage all the time and attacks our staff. We need to sedate him to get anywhere with him and that just doesn't work outside of tossing him into the arena."
"Oh what glory you've brought to that arena, though, my fine friend," Branch turned back towards the cell, Crusher still in a rage. "We do need more out of him. Imagine if he was under my command and actually heeded my orders instead of being uncorked like this."
"We've exhausted every other means for mind control that we've had success for in the past, sir."
"I understand that, but Demoreo here is different, you do get that, don't you?"
"We do..."
"Then why aren't you trying everything?"
"We've tried everything, sir, the only options left on the table are a bit more, well...."
"What?"
"They are invasive. We aren't sure that he'll survive the procedure, plus, he's so large and his biology has completely changed since the--"
"What part of 'everything' don't you understand? Demoreo here has been through so much, what is a little bit more?"
"I mean, we could," the man's face turned as white as a newly laundered sheet. "I'm just not sure that he'll survive it, and we know how important he is to you."
"He's served his purpose thus far, I suppose," Branch traced his fingers along the bars on the door. "But the intended purpose was to be able to control him. Right now, in this shape, there isn't much that we can do with him. He won't respond to orders, he only responds to stimulus or hunger. I haven't heard him mumble a coherent sentence in quite a while, even. He just grunts."
"There could be side effects, though."
"What part of this don't you understand? I know that, but that is a risk that we are willing to take."
"No, sir, I mean, there is still some of his personality there. Some of it is latent, some of it isn't. We do routine scans of his mind and even of late we are detecting regular human thought patterns. If we implant this device into his mind, there is no telling what will happen."
"He was a dead man when he first came to us and we gave him new life. If he dies like this, then at least he had that bit more of life."
"But he had a family, a wife, a daughter, a son and..."
"We've compensated them. They live among us now. In fact, they live like the elite. They would've been fodder for the arena under any other circumstance. She's unskilled, of no real use to us."
"She is fertile," the doctor said, Crusher feeling a new surge of rage build up in him, once again slamming himself against the door, ignoring the jolts of pain each time that he made contact.
"There there, friend," Branch chided. "This life was never meant to be perfect, now was it? But we can rebuild, much like we are doing now. Peterson, when can we begin the procedure?"
"Today, if you want. I do advise that we proceed with caution, though, as he was in the arena last night and tends to be a bit more, well.... Prone to bouts of rage."
"Just ensure that he's sedated."
Branch trotted off, out of view without a care in the world while a group of guards approached and fired round after round of darts into his body. Each one stung more than the last. Crusher fought it at first, plucking them from his body, trying to remind himself that he was a man, that he was Demoreo, but they acted quickly, making his whole body heavier, his head foggy. As hard as he fought, it was futile, and the fight was slowly draining from him along with his consciousness. Demoreo, he repeated to himself, before it all went blank.
Consciousness returned, the haze still heavily occupying his thoughts and obscuring anything tangible from forming inside of his mind. A blank canvas to the world around him, Crusher sat up, no longer consumed by rage. Men in lab coats stood tentatively nearby, armed guards pointing their guns at him. He sat quietly, the hulking mass on a giant slab of a table, waiting.
"Oookay," Peterson said. "He's awake, and he's not smashing or eating everything."
"That's good, isn't it?" The other replied.
"I think so, but we don't know yet, we can't let Mr. Branch know yet, he'll get too excited and--"
"And what? Do something rash?" Branch strode into the room wearing a smile on his face. He stood right in front of Crusher and inspected him from head-to-toe. "My, my, Crusher, aren't we in control today?"
Crusher simply sat, staring at Branch, a haphazard crown of metal protruding from his skull, the gauze still tightly wrapped around the base and stained a deep crimson.
"Crusher, stand up, please," Branch ordered. Crusher groaned, still feeling the effects of all the sedatives, but pulled himself up to his feet, off of the table. His bare feet slapped against the cold concrete floor, him looking down at a smirking Branch. A dull, thudding pain pulsated throughout his head, a constant zap that wasn't overpowering, but noticeable. "What would there ever be concern about?"
"Well, sir, we haven't conducted the proper tests yet and--"
"I designed this myself, though," Branch walked around Crusher, marveling at him. "This was my invention, was it not?"
"Yes, sir, but—"
"There are no buts, Peterson. Crusher is under our control. He's as docile as a newborn puppy and as obedient as an old dog now. This is precisely what we wanted from this experiment, in fact, I'm upset that we didn't do this sooner."
"There are still possible side effects, he is still highly dangerous," Peterson pulled his glasses off and rubbed his temples.
"Oh, I don't fear my Crusher, I don't fear him at all," Branch ran his fingers over Crusher's back. "In fact, Crusher."
"Urgh?"
"Crusher, take Peterson over here's head off."
"No, what?" Peterson looked up at him in horror, dropping his clipboard to the ground with a clatter. "No, sir, wait, I was just..."
"Crusher!"
"Rrraaaagh!" Crusher let out a mighty roar. The doctor tried to run, but the guards all turned their guns on him. He scrambled for the bench, grabbing for anything to protect himself, but it was too late. Crusher's hand was wrapped around his neck, a tight grip turning his head into a dark crimson shade.
"This is working just splendid, I think," Branch said. "Now give me his head!"
Crusher tightened his grip, Peterson's flesh turning a deep shade of purple, trying to escape only for Crusher to reach down with his other hand, grip firmly onto his skull and twist. There was a sickening crack with a whimper, the head coming loose and blood spraying all over. He had died before his clipboard had settled into the ground, all of it happening in a matter of seconds. Crusher turned to Branch, who was laughing maniacally with blood dotting his suit. Crusher held the head out towards Branch, who smiled and nodded approvingly.
"Oh my sweet boy," he whispered. "What have we done?"
Seven
The Brawler
The post-arena cooldown was always the most surreal for Will. Being in front of that crowd—what could be the last real society left in the world—and being their hero was a feeling that was beyond description for Will. He was a god inside of that arena. They all ate out of the palm of his hand each and every second that he existed inside of that fighting pit. They were rapt with attention the entire time, with all of their adoring eyes on him. Tonight was no different
than any other night, really. The only difference was that Branch had trotted out that hotshot Hollywood star as a special guest and gave Will the chance to tear him down a few notches in front of everyone. He couldn't help but feel the sting of losing out on his retirement because of some sort of showcase to some rich fella, but Branch owed him. He'd be good for it. He hoped.
He sat in Branch's private lounge on the top floor, relaxing on a lounge chair out by the pool that overlooked the wasteland, a contrast if there ever was one. Back when there were other buildings around and the general insanity that was Las Vegas still existed, he imagined that it was quite a view. Now, instead, it was simply looking out on the vast nothingness that existed beyond those walls. There really wasn't much left for him out there, which hit him every time that he was up there at the top of the world in Branch's personal oasis. Jenna and Vera sat on each side of him, a standard part of his post-fight festivities, while Branch approached him wearing a pair of board shorts and mirrored sunglasses, even though it was night.
"What a show out there, my old friend," Branch beamed.
"Thanks, innit? I thought we really showed up that Gabriel fella," he replied.
"Yes, well," Branch scratched his chin, "ladies, would you mind giving us some space?"
"C'mon Jenna," Vera picked herself up, tossing Jenna a towel to cover herself up with. Jenna was in a two piece, her golden body a more subtle hue of blue in the dim moonlight while Vera was just in her usual clothes, looking as uncomfortable up there as she always was. "Let's go get something to eat."
"Alright," Jenna leaned over Will and planted a kiss on his cheek, his eyes stuck on her tits that were looking to burst out of her top. "We'll be over there if you need us, champ."
"Aight," Will said, slapping Jenna's ass while she walked off, her letting out a playful squeal.
"I do love to watch them leave," Branch commented.
"What? Oh, yeah, they are quite something."
"Just like your performance was out there tonight. Actually, I'd go as far as to say it was masterful."
"Masterful, eh?" William took another swig of his beer, the bottle sweating in his hands. "I guess it was, huh?"
"Truly."
"What about that Gabriel fella? He looked mighty buggered."
"Well, he was," Branch said. "He was quite upset by the whole thing, but you played your part quite well."
"That was what you wanted, I thought?"
"Yes," he said. "I wanted to take him down a few pegs. There is a very fragile balance here within Branch Tower, and someone like Gabriel could easily upset the balance. You know the type; the liberal do-gooder that used to go on Larry King to talk about saving the children in Africa. The type always crusading for humanity while living as lavish of a life as the rest. People rally behind that, but there is no room for that in our new world, is there?"
"From what I seen? No place at all. Things are fucked e'nuff as it is."
"Right. I'll freely admit that not everything here is fair. I mean, look, you and I are up here enjoying the pool, some drinks and food while there are people in this very tower who are going hungry down in the cellars. Those people are waiting for work, for us to build them housing, or waiting for their chance to ascend via a chance in the arena. If we were to share everything evenly, well, none of us would survive."
"I guess not, no," he said. It made sense, sure, but there was still something nagging at him from the inside, usually in Vera's voice warning him about Branch.
"We are the exceptional. We are the few. We are the people that humanity needs to survive this unfortunate world that we live in. We can worry about everyone else later. You see that, don't you?"
"I s'pose so," William took another swig. "Just never thought of it that way, I s'pose."
"Living like this doesn't make us wrong, it simply makes us smarter than—"
"I wonder if this is how other madmen in history rationalized their insanity," a voice broke through. Will looked up and saw Gabriel, still in his gear from the arena that night.
"Why Mr. Gabriel, how nice of you to join us," Branch offered him up a big smile. "We were just discussing politics here."
He replied with a grunt.
"So I'm assuming that you disagree?"
"Uh huh," Gabriel replied.
"Well fuck," William said. "Maybe we should all live in your prissy lil' wonderworld, but this is reality, mate."
A smile washed across Gabriel's face, Will feeling his blood boiling. What kind of asshole gets brought in from the wasteland and disrespects the man in charge? Branch's place was the only refuge from the outside world, and this guy was being treated like royalty. Even got his retirement delayed.
"I don't care how you justify this, humanity deserves better."
"But you do care oh so much, don't you, Mr. Gabriel?"
"This is the fuckin' apocalypse, mate," Will said.
"But not humanity."
"This is humanity," Branch said. "You don't have to approve or disapprove of it. That isn't for you."
He kept silent, Will followed his eyes as he scanned the room, from beautiful woman to beautiful woman, to the booze, the food and the few men scattered about.
"Think of it as a test. One to see where you fit in our society, of course," Branch said. "Although I'm not quite sure how that worked out."
Gabriel just let out a laugh.
"What do you think, Mr. Farrington?" Branch turned back towards Will.
"Ain't much of a fit, if I say so."
"So what do we do about this, then? Do we continue letting Mr. Gabriel live among us, the few, the proud and the contributing? Or do we make him earn his living?"
"You know," Will scratched at his beard, "if I still gotta earn my way, I don't see why not."
"Some oasis wonderland," Gabriel added.
"Whatever you think is inconsequential," Branch said. "The benefit of running the only game in town is that I call the shots, Mr. Gabriel. I'll... give you some time to think this over."
"Fuck it," Gabriel stormed off, leaving William sitting next to Branch, who was casually sipping on his drink.
"That went better than expected," he said.
"Oh?"
"We wanted this to happen, because we want him to have to prove himself in the arena."
"Oh," Will said, feeling a bit more comfortable with the whole situation. Branch did have a plan. "Do you think that he can?"
"Possibly," Branch said, the amusement plastered on his face. "It would be quite sporting if he could and it all led up to a meeting between the two of you, but if not then just as well."
"This seems wrong, Will," Vera sat across from Will in their apartment, gazing off towards the neon-lit fish tank and the few surviving fish that they had, the ones that Vera had remembered to feed, not the ones that Will had neglected. "This guy survives god knows what out there and is just going to be made an example of?"
"That's how it goes, ya know?"
"I do know," she said. "Just like I know that I have no place here if it isn't for you."
"That's bollocks and you know it," he said. "Where would I be without that sexy lil' mind of yours?"
"You wouldn't have that gauntlet that you use, that's for damned sure."
"Right, so, you ain't goin' nowhere."
"But you are going to have to kill him."
"S'pose so," he said. "But it's not like I don't kill other people, innit?"
"It's not like every night after you do I'm any less annoying about it."
"I guess that I just tune it out."
"That or you just drink yourself stupid and fuck Jenna until you pass out."
"An' that, aye," he said, feeling morose.
"What happens when you retire? Do you even get to retire, or do you die a martyr out there? Branch brought this guy in as a big deal, but now he's willing to sacrifice him in just 24 hours? Doesn't that seem off to you?"
"Well, the bloke was pissin' 'round."
"So what?" She asked. "H
aven't you ever looked at your relationship with Branch and how he uses you? That whole display tonight was just so he could make a grand display of this guy and make a fool of him. Now he's trying to get him to fight in the arena and get killed? If you ever asked a simple question, wouldn't he just do the same to you?"
"That won't happen, darlin'."
"And why not?"
"Because I'm not 'bout to be buggerin' around like that, you know that."
"This was supposed to be your retirement night, right?"
"Aye," he said. That one stung.
"But it wasn't, now there is just one more guy that they have to build up for you to tear down in front of those people."
"So?"
"So, don't you see the pattern? You were supposed to retire. Then some movie star waltzes in and Branch considers him a threat, so he wants you to keep going for a bit longer as his pet to make an example out of this guy. What happens when the next guy comes along?"
"There won't be a next 'un, darlin', I promise," Will was speaking quietly now, starting to wonder himself what the line was.
"You aren't a bad man, Will," she said. "Or else I wouldn't even be in here with you, having this conversation with you. You helped me out there when you could have just been like the rest. There is some humanity left in you yet. I know that. Look, I'm under no illusion that you owe me anything or that I mean anything to you, but you are better than this."
"An' if I'm not?" He asked, genuinely unsure of the answer.
"Then you've let me down," she said.
"Just bugger off then," he was starting to feel frustrated. "There's a lot going on right now and I'm lookin' out for all of us. Just bugger off, will you?"
"Whatever," Vera gathered up a few things and stormed out of the room, slamming the door.
"My champ," Jenna was awoken from her daze. "What was that?"
"Oh nothing, snookums," he sighed, picking up a few of the bottles in front of him and swishing them around looking for another sip. "Just the usual bollocks from Vera."
The Tower Page 7