"I told ya to lie low," Stuart whispered.
"I'm getting Elsie a pudding, Stuart, that's all."
"No, I mean Branch saw ya when they hauled Gabriel back in."
"Oh, that."
"Aye, that," he said, pulling her over into a booth in the corner. "I calmed him down, distracted him, but shits bad."
"Worse than before? It seemed pretty bad before."
"It's always bad, but his mood's all over the fuckin' place. Yer friend, I dunno what happens to him but it ain't gonna be pretty."
"He made his own decisions, he'll be fine. He's survived a lot."
"That's the kicker, innit? We all survived, but we're all fucked."
"I guess so, is he okay?"
"Banged up."
"Can I help him in any way?"
"I wouldn't."
"Can't you at least take me to him, I'm sure he needs to be patched up or at least tended to, right?"
"Fuckin' hell."
Stuart was many things, but a poet he was not. He never minced words, and his inflection would often give away his intentions more than the words themselves did. At his core, he seemed like a good person, like a caring person, just broken. That wasn't uncommon these days; to be broken beyond repair but to let humanity still break through the cracks occasionally. Stuart was different, though. He was relenting, and they both knew it.
The trip down to the basement was an unusually quiet one. There was something vexing Stuart, but for one reason or another he wasn't vocalizing it. To the casual observer he had it all right now; power, status, the ear of Jordan Branch, the most powerful man in the world, and the ability to move about freely. Yet there was a pall always obscuring the real him. Was it his brother, who went out into the arena and caved in the skulls of the living and the dead for Branch's personal amusement, or was it the things that Branch made him do? Perhaps both.
"Thank you," she finally said before the elevator reached the basement floor.
"Eh?"
"For taking me to see Tom. He's a good man, you know."
"Ain't none of my business, he's a dead bloke for all I know."
"So I'm to say my goodbyes, then, I presume?"
"Fuck if I know," he said, the elevator dinging and doors sliding open. He moved through the basement like it was his own home, comfortable with every nook and cranny. Chances are he could walk through with a blindfold on and not miss a single step. They approached a heavy iron door with a large pad affixed to the wall. Stuart paused and placed his hand on the pad, it scanning his hand before the light above the door turned from red to green. A klaxon sounded and the door popped open, Stuart taking a grip on it and pulling it open with a deep below, the weight of the door even overwhelming for him.
He motioned for her to go in ahead of him.
"Why thank you, Stuart."
"Just keep it quiet, alright? This here's the boss's lab, got a few cells in there. Usually we just kill anyone that crosses him, but he's got a few pets right now, yer boy included."
"I understand," she said.
The look on his face said that her vocalizing the thought perhaps meant that she didn't, but she knew enough to stay quiet until he gave her the go-ahead. A dim room awaited her past the iron door, the walls lined with monitors and equipment. Most of it was recognizable to her as medical equipment, but also alien in how advanced the technology was. This equipment was worlds ahead of anything inside of her office, beyond what she needed to give vaccinations, test reflexes and deal with the chicken pox.
Stuart led her further into the room until there was another door. Behind the door was the glint of metal bars and rough, fluorescent lighting. Even after the world ended, fluorescent light still haunted humanity. Inside she finds Tom, leaning against a bench, his midsection wrapped in bandages and his jacket on the bench helping to cradle his head. There is a woman in there with light brown hair and a soft, caramel complexion who appeared to be tending to him.
"Ya got five minutes, 'less the boss comes, then yer fucked."
"Thank you, Stuart," she patted him warmly on the shoulder, feeling a tremor run through his body at her touch. With that, he retreated into the lab, leaving her in the room with the two of them. "Tom, are you okay?"
He merely shifted, his head turning from left to right.
"He's not exactly a conversationalist," the woman in the cell replied.
"Oh, I know, he's rather difficult, isn't he?"
"You're telling me, imagine being locked up with him."
"I owe him my life, you know."
"Oh?" The woman looked up at her for the first time. "Ah, Dr. Faraday."
"You know me?"
"No, well, sort of," the woman picked herself up and offered her hand through the bars, Ruth taking it. "He's talked about you, however little he's spoken. You and, what's her name, Elsie?"
"Yes, Elsie."
"It's about all that I've been able to get out of him since they tossed me into here—for being a good person nonetheless."
"I'm sorry, dear," she said.
"Whatever, this is Branch's fucked up world, isn't it? Oh, right, sorry, I'm Vera."
"It's nice to meet you, I believe that I've seen you around, with Stuart's brother, perhaps?"
"Yeah, I live with Will," she sighed. "That lunkhead is gonna get himself killed someday, especially if I'm not looking after him."
"So you two are..."
"Oh god no," she laughed, "I mean, sort of? I don't know. My talents are needed elsewhere."
"Talents?"
"I'm an engineer and they've got me building weapons of crass destruction."
"Oh my," she said, suppressing the laugh, "you are a sharp one."
"I'm glad that someone appreciates it," she looked back at Tom and kicked at his boot. "Have you seen Will in the arena?"
"Yes, I did, quite a spectacle."
"Well, I made that dumb gauntlet that he wears, the one that blows heads up. That's what an aerospace engineer is doing in Branch's post-apocalyptic hellscape, that and occasionally fucking the great champion of the arena when I get lonely."
"I see."
"Sorry, I'm just ranting at this point, TK isn't budging and our other friend is passed out."
"Who, Stuart?"
"Oh, shit," she said, "you uhh, might want to not turn around."
"What?" Instinctively she turned, only to find herself face-to-face with the horrifying monster from the arena. There he was, slumped over in a cell of his own, a large, hulking mass of viscera and tumors, up close, just as terrifying but somehow more fragile, more human. "... My god," she murmured under her breath.
"I thought he told you..."
"... is he?"
"He's just resting, recuperating, but he's a mess. Poor Demoreo."
"Demoreo? Is that his name?"
"It is, well, at least it was."
"So you knew him before... this?"
"Sort of, I met him here, after Branch had been experimenting on him. Hell, that's how I landed up in here, I had a notebook of our conversations, of his thoughts and memories, and I brought it to his family only for..."
"My my my," a voice broke through, the door swinging open. "This is quite the meeting of the minds," Jordan Branch strolled into the hallway, standing regally in between the two cells with both Stuart and Viktor flanking him. Stuart grit his teeth at Dr. Faraday and shook his head in shame. That meant that he had been taken off-guard, that he wanted to warn her, but it was too late. "Perhaps it is just a sign of my own poor judgement, letting the three of you live? Are you conspiring against little old me?"
"I didn't know you had any," Vera snapped.
"Oh this one, quite the feisty one, isn't she? I saw great promise in the both you and Mr. Gabriel, each in your own, unique way. You see, Mr. Gabriel here could have been the crown jewel of my new society. The former action hero making his way through the barren wasteland in search of a new life at Branch Tower. You could have spoken directly to the people, Mr. Gabriel, you c
ould have helped them to understand what we are building to. Instead, you chose this. As for Ms. Maia here? Limitless potential, a truly brilliant scientific mind, a perfect fit for Branch Tower!"
"Yet?"
"Very astute, Ms. Maia," he said. "Yet you squandered that talent and instead opted to live with that brute of a man, Farrington, to make little devices for him. My door is always open to such... talents as yours, yet you chose a different path. All for what, a dead man?"
"For what was right," she said.
"Oh psh now, what does disturbing Mrs. Johnson and her son have to do with right or wrong? Her husband made a valiant sacrifice for the good of mankind, for the cure, for this indomitable plague that impacts us all. Mr. Johnson's sacrifice should burden no one else. I take care of them, do I not?"
"She's a line cook in a cafeteria."
"Precisely! What skills did she have that benefited our little society here? What skill does little Tyler bring to the table that further humanity's struggle to rebuild itself? None. Just like his father brought nothing to the table. This way at least he was able to be more, to contribute more. At least the two of you had promise, just like the good doctor over here," he motioned towards Dr. Faraday.
"You made him a monster," she said. "You took his mind from him, his thoughts, his humanity."
"That was never my intent," he said. "Nor is it any of your concern what happens with the Crusher."
"Look at your plaything," TK broke his silence. "He's back there, cowering in the corner. If that is your idea for rebuilding society, then count me out. You should have let me go while you had the chance, Branch."
"Very charming, as always, Mr. Gabriel."
"You are obsessed. Control is all that you care about," Vera said, asserting herself back into the conversation.
"Fascinating theory that you have there, it's a shame that nobody will get to hear it."
"Are you going to have one of your thugs kill me finally? What will Will say about that?"
"On the contrary, Ms. Maia. In case Mr. Gabriel hasn't gotten to hear the news yet; Mr. Farrington was injured in his heroic battle with the Crusher earlier and I need a new main event attraction for the arena. Who better than the first man to beat the Crusher, TK Gabriel? As for you, well, I have other plans for you, Ms. Maia. Patience, though. Oh, and good doctor, I do believe he'll need some tending to before he can fight. Perhaps even after, that is, if I let him live."
"I won't fight for you," he said.
"So be it. Then you'll die. Save the good doctor some work."
There she was, right back in Handsome Bill's den of lost boys with the most lost boy of them all in her care. TK was as silent as usual while she tended to his wounds. He was banged up, but when he stumbled into their camp initially he was in much worse condition and even then, he remained relatively quiet, reserved and didn't let it show what kind of pain he was in.
Those were traits that were important in Branch's new world, just not the kind of traits that Jordan Branch wanted in his subjects, she supposed. His game was control and Tom had defied him at every turn, which did him no real favors considering his current predicament, although Ruth was just as unsure of where she stood currently, knowing better than to ask questions. At least she knew that Stuart wouldn't let anything happen to Elsie. The boy had taken a liking to her and would care for her without having to be asked.
"Alright, fella," Bill lumbered towards them, clipboard in hand. "Yer up."
"Alright," TK replied.
"Good luck out there, yer gonna need it."
"We'll see," he said, the chain-link gate opening up while the larger gate to the arena slowly cracked open. The rumble of the crowd became louder and louder while the mighty gate swung open, TK gripping onto his bat before he looked back at Dr. Faraday and gave a slight nod. Would that be his last gesture, was this their last moment? The anticipation was eating away at her and she wasn't sure how he was so composed, heading out to what was most likely his inevitable doom. The energy coming from the crowd was similar to his previous foray, but this time it felt ominous and deadly. He might not survive this time, no matter how hard he tried. Tom had tried to avoid killing last time, making some sort of bold, sweeping statement, but this time he wouldn't have those luxuries, not unless Branch's sick game took another twist that she couldn't predict. Hopefully Tom was able to.
The air smelled of rotten flesh, fresh blood, and the stench of the bodies packed into the stands. Watching as Tom slowly walked through the arena felt surreal, as if he was moving in slow motion from one of his movies. There he was, the action hero, the man who was there to save the world only the world had really ended, and this wasn't a movie. A voice boomed over the loudspeakers and the crowd noises created a cacophony of madness unlike she had ever experience, making her skin crawl. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gates creaked open. Having just came from the cells, she knew the Crusher was out of commission, at least for now. Two men in light leather armor charged out, one with a makeshift mace, another with what looked like an old, rusted machete. Tom hunkered down into a fighting position while Dr. Faraday's heart felt like it would beat out of her chest.
By the time the two reached him the larger one with the mace was already huffing and puffing, while the one with the machete was stumbling over himself. This was clearly the warm up. This was a test from Branch to see how Tom would react to fighting another set of unprepared bozos. He acted without hesitation this time; the mace swinging wildly at his head, TK holding the bat out and letting the chain wrap around it, him jerking the bat backwards while he twisted his body so that his leg was planted on the ground, the buffoon tripping over his leg and the inertia doing the rest to send him crashing onto his back, the air escaping him in one violent burst.
The machete wielder planted his feet before he began swinging wildly at TK. She gasped at the narrow miss of the rusty blade. Being afflicted with tetanus during the apocalypse wasn't something that she would be able to just patch up on him, not without the proper medicine. There was no pattern to the swings, they were wild, unpredictable. The blade kissed his right boot, brushing against the metal shin guard that he wore. Just narrowly he ducked a shot that came for his head, the sound of the blade whirring by his ear. He brought the bat up and struck the man in the chest; the blow sucking the air out of the man and sent him to the ground grumbling and cringing in pain. The man swung wildly from his defensive position; it catching the sleeve of TK's jacket but the leather able to prevent it from tearing into his flesh.
"C'mon you fucker," the man snarled at him. He dashed at TK, with TK just barely able to sidestep another swing with the machete. The man went for an upswing with the machete, but TK was able to bring the bat down just in time to block the shot, the bat and the machete clashing violently. Both men went to pull their weapons back, but found themselves connected. The bluntness of the machete kept it from cutting clean through the wood, but it found itself buried into the bulk of the bat. There was an opening now, TK snapping off a kick with his left leg, the shin connecting with the leather armor across the man's ribs, him huddling over in pain, howling.
Something was wrong, though. Tom huddled down, tinkering with his left boot and the shin guard on there. What was he possibly doing? Vera had talked about the explosive charge that she had created for Will. Was Tom expecting the same thing? "Tom! Tom get up, my god!" Dr. Faraday shouted, hoping that her voice would carry over the chaos while he fiddled with his boot, one man was up and charging at him. The mace was swinging wildly around the makeshift handle while the bigger man was bowling right towards him. Tom rolled out of the way, then dodged another shot, still stopping to fiddle with his boot. Another shot came dangerously close to his head, Tom kicking his foot out and tripping the man before fiddling with his boot again, this time stopping and springing back up.
Like an explosion he shot up from his feet, driving his knee into the face of the mace wielder, blood streaming down from his nose at escape velocity. H
e jerked the mace from the ground and swung it at Tom with a wild overhand shot that Tom was able to easily counter with his right knee into the ribs of the man. He went for a violent backswing only to miss by a mile, TK bringing his left fist up to connect flush on the jaw with a big uppercut that sent him staggering back. TK dug his left heel into the ground while the man went for a giant swing with his right arm, twirling the mace above his head. In a flash TK had snapped his left leg up towards the man, rotating on the ball of his right foot and popping his hips, his left leg unfurling at high velocity and his left shin snapping at the man's head. There was no time for him to cry out before the shin guard connected, the spikes digging into the soft folds of his flesh before a pop went off, light emitting from his boot followed by a rain of blood, his shin not being stopped by anything but instead moving with momentum towards the ground, causing him to almost stumble. She had done it; she had made him some sort of device, or he had stolen one.
"What in the fuck?" The machete man, who was charging at him stopped cold. "How the...?"
Before he could complete his thought, TK smashed his right elbow into his temple while the body of the other man lay on the ground, headless and twitching. The crowd was once again in disbelief at the scene. They had seen Farrington with his gauntlet, but never anyone else with anything similar. The machete man tried to regain his composure, only for TK to drive his left knee into his sternum. TK swung wildly with a head kick, the man ducking under it just in the knick of time, only for TK to catch him with a right back kick to the stomach with the momentum from the first one. This sent him down to one knee, doubled over in pain and TK didn't hesitate while he quickly planted his boot, measured the shot and unloaded another kick towards the man's head. He screamed, but another buzz and a splat interrupted it, his body falling over in a heap on the ground while chunks of his brain and skull rained down on top of his lifeless body.
The Tower Page 17