"What the fuck is this bullocks?" She turned to see Will Farrington shouting at anyone and everyone.
"This is what he requested," Bill said. "Branch told me it was fine, I dunno, Will, I take orders from Branch."
"They are out there right now putting together my ring for this poofter," he pointed at Tom, who was still feigning that he was asleep. "That's bollocks! They'll think that it's me comin' out, then it's this arsehole."
"My hands are tied, Will, they really are."
"You answer to me!"
"I answer to Mr. Branch."
"Fuck this," Farrington unloaded on a locker.
"Calm down there, big guy," Tom stretched his arms out.
"You," Farrington kicked at his boot before stooping down in front of Tom's face. "You think this is a fuckin' game? You think this is funny? I'll destroy you out there, gut ya like a pig, and let Crusher eat your innards."
"Oh, are we fighting tonight? The ring should be out there."
"You fuckin' twat," he spat, storming off. "I'm going to Branch."
"That wasn't good," Bill said.
"How long until my fight?"
"Oh, uh," Bill scratched his chin, studying his clipboard. "Looks like yer up next, once this lot is done. Better get a move on, eh?"
"No shit," Tom said, stretching his arms out before sliding the jacket on. He looked like he had in the movies, which is what Branch had wanted out of him. Branch wanted poor Tom to be that man that he portrayed in the movies, the dashing action hero, and he wanted him to die in his arena. The Tom that she had known—even briefly—was quiet, kept to himself, but could handle weapons and take care of himself. She owed him her life now, but he didn't seem to care to collect on that debt. Granted, she'd still do whatever she could for him, he just had to stay alive.
"Alright, here's your weapon," Bill held the bat out handle first at TK. "Good luck out there. You're gonna need it."
"Gee, thanks," TK said, following Bill towards the mouth of the arena. She trailed behind them. With each step, the calls of the crowd grew louder and more violent. Two guards were supporting a badly beaten up man on their shoulders, the "victor" of the last fight, who looked like he wouldn't survive the night. TK stood in front of the gate, peaking through the cracks to see the ring about 30 yards out. The announcer's voice boomed in a barely decipherable voice, the crowd erupting once again while the gate began to creak open.
"Git out there," Bill pushed him from behind. "It's your go!"
"Fuck off, Bill," TK said, gripping onto the bat tightly in his left hand, taking a few test swings with the blunt weapon, now he just had to survive. Bill looked back at her and nodded towards a door off to the side.
"Ya can watch from that box there, if ya want."
"What about this last bunch of boys?"
"We both know that they're dead," he shrugged. "Watch some fights."
Dr. Faraday settled into an empty seat overlooking the chaos, taken aback again by the atmosphere of the arena. TK slowly stepped out onto the bloodstained sands of the arena while the crowd both cheered and booed. That display from the previous night really set some of them off, Branch selling it like TK had spurned society and doomed humanity for good instead of Branch himself doing all the dirty work. TK held the bat up to the sky while he strode towards the ring, hopping up onto the apron and surveying the crowd before stepping into the ropes, arms outstretched.
"Ladies and gentlemen, TK Gabriel!" The announcer's voice was more discernible from inside of the ring now. She felt her stomach turning in knots. He could deal with this, couldn't he? He survived the end of the world and even saved a few people along the way, including her. Surely he wasn't afraid of being in front of crowds. That was how he made his living, although that was a long time ago, a lifetime even. "Bring out the dead!"
The crowd broke out into a cheer while the opposing gate opened up, a small horde of undead flowing out like the levee had just broken. "My god," she muttered under her breath. There were no less than 20 shambling towards the ring. Last night they had seen Farrington get a gimme, having to fend off five or six, not twenty. Things were not looking good, and he was inside of a certified death trap if he hung out inside of that ring. The only way that he'd survive was to meet them head on, and it looked like he knew it. He climbed out from between the ring ropes and hopped down, bat in hand, charging towards them silently—at least she thought—it was difficult to hear from where she was.
The first one had some speed to him, but inertia wasn't on his side. TK sidestepped him and swung the bat up to meet his skull, the head of the bat connecting and with a sickening thud sending skull fragments and brain matter flying. The next one came easily to him, arcing the bat over his head and down onto the top of his skull. Two were coming towards him, TK planting his boot into the stomach of one and sending it onto its ass, swinging the bat towards the other one's head, the body falling on top of the other.
The truth was, the undead weren't a huge risk unless they were stampeding in a pack, in fact, they were quite easy to kill once you've been dealing with them for a while. She herself has killed at least a dozen of them, well, if you could call caving in an undead monster's skull killing. Depending on how long they had been dead their bodies could be in different stages of decay, some much worse than others. If the leg muscles were mostly intact they could run, but on average they were stuck at a snail's pace. This meant that TK could take his time and pick them off one-by-one and be okay. A few had grouped up, but they were too slow for his bat and the occasional kick. The crowd gave an "ooh" when he swung his leg up with a roundhouse kick that took one of the heads clean off. These had been dead for a while, that was for sure.
If this was all that they had for him, he'd make easy work of them. He just had to keep his head and stay alive, flowing from one to the next, aiming for the head or neck to ensure that they don't get back up. What was clear is that he knew what he was doing in that arena against those ghouls. The final one approached, TK deciding to put on a bit of a show, which she groaned at. Just get this over with. He jabbed the toe of his boot into the knee of the zed, it crashing down to the sand. The decaying man tried to claw his way back up to his feet, making it up to one knee while TK measured him, playing to the crowd before swinging his left leg around and connecting with the skull, sending the head flying off into the first row of the crowd. Screams and adulation followed, TK looking up towards Branch's box and pointing the bat towards him.
"Very well, Mr. Gabriel," Branch's voice boomed throughout the arena. "You want a challenge, you've got it."
From the distance she saw TK's wry smile and saw it start to dissipate; he had made it look too easy. The undead were hardly a challenge, anyone who had survived in the wasteland for any period of time knew that. They were slow, dumb, and only really dangerous in giant herds that could overwhelm an individual. What was at first the greatest horror imaginable became commonplace to TK and the savvy survivor. They had blended into the rest of the wildlife and were only a threat in the most extreme of situations. Farrington had made a show over dispatching a paltry group of the undead the prior night. Now TK had shown him up with ease, then taunted the man with his fingers on the controls. The ring greeted him as a place to retreat to, looking around anxiously, awaiting the next challenge.
The great gates parted, the rumble echoing through the arena, followed by the same deafening cry that had kept her awake the previous night. Faraday's blood ran cold while the huge figure emerged from the shadows of the arena and out into the bath of flood lights. The Crusher stood menacingly in the doorway. Only something had changed. Before a wild beast of a man that ran amok inside of the arena, destroying anything and everything in his path was standing on the fringes of the arena looking controlled, staring directly at TK. He was different, though, there were pieces of metal jutting out from his skull that weren't there prior, lining his bald head line a crown of thorns, leading into a brace that ran down his neck.
A smaller doo
r to his side creaked open. He mustn't of heard it because he jumped when he realized it, so focused on the giant beast before him. There was no explanation needed; Branch wanted TK dead, and he wanted to do it in a grand display. Whatever he did to the Crusher, it made him somehow more of a menace than before. Before he was a monster, a rampaging beast on display, but the cool intelligence on display made TK freeze in place. Two figures emerged from the door, both outfitted in ill-fitting leather armor adorned with spikes and chains, wielding makeshift weapons. The one with the leather skull cap carried a chain while the one with the pink mohawk and the beer gut had a 2x4 strung with barbed wire like they were Christmas lights.
They both stood in either corner of the ring, staring down TK and laughing. They had him cornered, at least they thought. TK had to tear himself away from staring down the monster at the lip of the arena and focus on these two goons. The chain started to swing around the thug's wrist, TK studying both men carefully while Dr. Faraday's heart was pounding. He pointed the bat at the chain-bearer's face; the crowd cheering while he stood just pointing the bat, the two men looked on, confused, slowly advancing, the chain-bearer making sure not to get anywhere near the bat, for fear of some sort of hidden blade or another trick, she supposed. With cat-like reflexes, TK deftly arced the bat, smashing into the chest of the second man, sending him to the canvas in a heap. The chain whipped towards him, TK unable to duck it, instead holding up his right hand and feeling it slap across his wrist before wrapping itself around his hand.
A quick tug from the thug pulled TK off kilter, him stumbling forward. The thug came at him with a wild hook, TK dodging it with a strategic knee to the stomach that sent the thug reeling back. He wrangled his hand free from the chain; him taking the bat into both hands with an overhead slash only for it to meet the chain. The thug spun around, wrapping the bat up in the chain and with a mighty tug TK's grip on the bat loosened, it flying from his hands, leaving him defenseless. Before he could catch his breath, TK threw an elbow into the face of the man, followed by another that threw him back into the corner. TK faked like he was going for his bat, the chain whipping down towards it only for TK to fling his body at the thug, knee-point extended and it connecting flush on the jaw, sending the thug back into the corner. With a leap TK lunged at him, bringing his elbow down onto the crown of the man's head, watching the man slink down to the mat in a heap.
TK paused in the ring, and she wished that he'd just end this already. The crowd was unglued, the Crusher still standing there staring at TK in the ring. TK pointed at him and then to Branch, not paying close enough attention to the two men in the ring, one blasting him in the gut with a barbed wire back. TK reeled, the man trying to free the bat but finding it lodged in the jacket. Luckily TK was quick to react, throwing a right cross that connected on the temple and sent the thug back down to the mat with a thud. He cried out while he pried the barbs loose, blood flowing freely from the dozens of tiny puncture wounds and tears. This wasn't working. Survive. That's all that he needed to do right now. It was them or him.
Branch and TK had locked eyes again, if just for a brief second. He needed to focus on those men, not on the one up in that box, but she understood how his cold, steely eyes were a distraction. She could hear that voice now, hear him scolding TK for not wanting to be one of them, for finding this whole thing repulsive. It was repulsive, though. TK spat on the mat, blood clearly mixed in with his saliva. The crowd noise was just a steady hum now, a part of her existence that he was able to mostly tune out, but could only imagine how he felt in that ring, awash in it. Crusher was still there, still staring blankly at him, but not advancing.
"What's wrong with your attack dog, Branch?" TK shouted, the microphones littered around the ring picking up his calls and amplifying them around the arena. "You upset that I'm not gonna kill these men? You gonna send the big one after me now? He looks pretty tame compared to last night."
"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Gabriel," Branch said over the loudspeaker. "I wouldn't poke the hornet's nest if I were you. This is nothing more than a demonstration of my power. Crusher now does precisely what I ask of him."
"What's he gonna do, kill me?" He asked. "I'm already dead, Branch. This whole fucking world is dead."
"On the contrary," he said. "Both of those men are already dead, you've sealed their fate whether you like it or not, Mr. Gabriel."
"That blood is on your hands."
"The only way to survive the arena is to stay alive, to kill your opponents. We aren't changing the rules now, are we?"
"I don't care about your rules."
"So be it," Branch said. "Oh, and TK... Behind you."
TK spun on his heel only to feel the chain kiss his cheek, the feeling of hopelessness overpowering her from the stands, shouting at him to turn around. The chain snapped around his right ankle, with a tug TK slamming onto the mat on his left shoulder hard. He reached out, fumbling around with his hand towards his bat only for it to be kicked out of the ring, the sound of a menacing laugh coming from the thug with the chain.
"Oh, you thought you were a clever one, didn't you?" He said.
TK fought onto his back, only to have to quickly roll out of the way of a giant ball of chain that slammed down into the place where he was lying. The barbed wire 2x4 sat next to him, TK grabbing a hold of it and thrusting wildly at the thug who tried to avoid it. The wire was starting to come unraveled from the 2x4. He wildly flailed it in the air while he picked himself up. The thug whipped the chain at him again, only this time TK was able to catch it underneath his arm, clenching his arm tight to his ribs, but the chain slapping against his body, which she knew had to hurt.. With all of his might he reeled in the thug, chain loop by chain loop, the goon still fuzzy from the elbow that TK had planted on him earlier and unable to keep his balance. With a swing he slammed the 2x4 into the left arm of the thug who cried out in pain, relenting his grip on the chain, it coiling onto the canvas.
He dropped his portion of the chain, letting it slap onto the mat, leaving just the 2x4 as the only weapon left inside of the ring. TK swung it in an upward arc with the butt of the exposed end of the 2x4, the thug catching onto it. A game of tug-of-war ensued, TK's leather gloves gripping onto the barbed wire doing his best to avoid the barbs only for the barbed wire slip loose from the 2x4, sending TK crashing to the canvas with the spool of barbed wire in his hand. The plank of wood sailed at his head quickly, TK rolling out of the way again.
With desperation he kicked at the plank, the thug losing grip of it only to turn back to TK and have the barbed wire spool scrape up against his face. He cried out in pain while TK leapt back up to his feet, still favoring his stomach and all the micro cuts from the barbed wire. The thug swung wildly at TK with a haymaker, throwing all of his weight into it and missing by a mile, TK bringing his knee up to his stomach and knocking the wind out of him. TK pivoted on his right foot and arced his left leg up, it sailing through the air before his shin cracked against the thug's neck, him crumpling to the canvas next to the other thug.
"That's it," TK muttered, it barely being picked up by the in-ring mics. "That's it."
"Crusher!" Branch called out, his voice cracking. "Kill him! Kill all of them!"
He was slower to react now, but he turned around, her unable to discern the look on his face. He surveyed the ring, all the weapons had fallen outside of it and Crusher was swiftly striding towards him with an air of confidence beyond that of just some mindless killing machine. All that was left was the spool of barbed wire. TK scrambled for something, anything to do with it. He needed something to wrap it around that he could smack the Crusher with, something other than his arms, which would get equally torn up. With each mighty stomp he grew closer and began spooling the barbed wire around his left boot. He was going to try to kick that thing with barbed wire? Surely that was suicide.
Crusher had closed the rest of the distance with a mighty leap, leaving him just outside of the ring. He had to be standing at least
nine feet tall, a bubbling mass of muscle and viscera that was grumbling, growling and swatting his mighty claws at the ring, them bouncing off of the ropes. Crusher was trying to climb in, TK needed to get the hell out of there. She could feel the perspiration running down her back and her blood flow quicken. Yet, he would fight; he was standing his ground. With her in disbelief, he planted his foot and swung his left leg into a roundhouse kick to the ribs of the monster, the barbed wire making contact and searing through his flesh, sending out a mighty scream throughout the arena.
Dear god, what was he doing?
Crusher kept advancing unfazed, though, TK landing a few more blows and each one doing damage, but not stopping the advance of the beast. Crusher momentarily found himself tangled up in the ropes which left an opening for TK, who seized the opportunity to charge at him, springing off of one of the turnbuckles in the corner and launching his wire-entwined boot at the exposed neck of Crusher.
Smash.
The kick connected, sending a screech throughout the arena, TK landing hard on his back while Crusher writhed around outside of the ring grasping onto his head. "Crusher get up!" Branch was screaming at the top of his lungs. "Get up and kill him! Get up!"
Crusher was tearing at the device that was lodged into his neck, tearing at the metal rods and wiring that ran through his skull and neck, still screaming while he lumbered up to his feet. Something was different, the look in the monster's eyes, the fury. The sense of horror washed over her while he scrambled out of the ring on the other side, Crusher pulling himself up, snapping the top rope and snatching at the mohawk'd thug. The thug cried out, Crusher grabbing him by his neck, the scream quickly muffled when Crusher's maw came down around the head. The body went limp, blood streaming down the body and Crusher's hand.
"Oh no," she cried out, watching as Crusher tossed the lifeless body aside like a rag doll and pawed at the second man. He was still knocked out from the head kick, making him easy prey. Crusher grabbing him by the leg and jerked him up off the canvas effortlessly. TK found the bat on the ground, picking it up and sliding back into the ring. "Put him down," he called at Crusher, only to be swatted down with one mighty blow, his head bouncing against the bottom turnbuckle. The ring shook as the second body was slammed down onto the mat. Again. Again. Finally, Crusher stuffed the body into his mouth, crunching down on him, cracking through the ribs, cleaving the body into two, slipping from either side of his mouth and down onto the mat.
The Tower Page 10