As these thoughts spun through Hadder's mind, his body also whirled, ducking a bladed arm from the right and jumping out of reach of an attack from the left. While Skeelis seemed invulnerable to tiring, Hadder certainly was not. His breaths grew labored, and his legs started to ache from the fast-twitch action he was demanding from his muscles. Hadder needed to make a move and fast.
After narrowly dodging another vicious combo that left a few more cuts on Hadder's arms and hands, the two combatants separated, circling each other warily. "Your woman cried when I held my blade to her throat," Skeelis shouted, his forked tongue dancing in the air. "A pity I couldn't enjoy her more. After I place your head next to hers, I'll find another to have more fun with. Any suggestions?"
Hadder had heard enough and reacted in seeming madness. He stepped into a sloppy, looping overhand left that rendered his entire side vulnerable, and Skeelis shrieked in delight. Quickly dropping under the telegraphed punch, Skeelis slid to the side and ran his bladed forearm against Hadder's open midsection.
Skeelis howled in glee as his blade ran the length of Hadder's abdomen, but stopped suddenly when he felt Hadder's left hand tighten on his right wrist instead of the warm entrails that he had anticipated. As Hadder spun around, his right hand joined his left in holding the Riser's arm out wide. In one smooth motion, Hadder leaped into the air, forcing Skeelis's controlled arm between his legs, and pulled back with all his strength.
Hadder's unanticipated weight pulled Skeelis to the ground, where he found himself on his back, Hadder's legs draped across his chest, and his cherished combat arm stuck between the Setter's thighs. Hadder arched his back, bending the fiend's arm across his body and exerting tremendous force on the elbow. Panic began to descend on the Riser as he realized the predicament he was in, stuck in a tight armbar with no referee to break the hold.
Desperate to extricate himself from the position, Skeelis began running his left arm along Hadder's legs in a sawing motion, hoping to remove the man's legs. Inexplicably, however, his razor-sharp blades would not penetrate the gray pant material. Hadder laughed from Skeelis's right. "What's wrong, my friend," Hadder said through gritted teeth. "Cannot cut through my Elevated clothing? I had it specially made for you - cut resistant. Amazing what the manikins can whip up for you if you're clear with your requests."
Understanding sinking in, Skeelis began to thrash, forcing Hadder to hold on for dear life. Showing unbelievable strength, Skeelis managed to roll to his left, sending Hadder up into the air to crash down onto the other side of the creature. Now both on their stomachs, Hadder continued to apply pressure, slightly readjusted his grip and pulled back with a lifetime of anger.
Skeelis screamed as his elbow bent in the wrong direction, a loud pop echoing across the coliseum and partially quieting the gathered masses. Skeelis arm now jelly in his hands, Hadder continued to twist and pull, taking grim satisfaction in the tearing of tendons and ligaments. Keeping a viselike grip on the Riser's wrist, Hadder positioned his feet against Skeelis's side and extended to his full length, taking a bladed arm along with him.
A fountain of blood erupted from Skeelis's right stump, covering Hadder in a crimson burqa. He stood up, towering over the whimpering creature writhing around on the red-stained sand. "Please! Please! Please!" cried the desperate Riser, "I've learned my lesson, really I have!"
Hadder stared at the now-silent crowd through blood-filled eyes, wanted them all to see him, wanted them to know what they would face if they crossed the Skirt. Skeelis rose pitifully as Hadder glared at the crowd, bowing to the man who had taken his arm. "Thank you, kind sir, they will sing songs of your.." Hadder would never find out the kind of songs they would sing as Skeelis launched into an attack with his remaining left arm. Anticipating the ruse, Hadder effortlessly sent the blow wide, blocking it with the appendage he held. He then swept the bladed arm in a horizontal arc, neatly cutting a line across Skeelis's exposed throat.
Skeelis dropped to his knees, a waterfall of blood appearing at his neck. He tried to say something through the bubbling river, but failed and fell forward, quite dead. The fight was finished, and Hadder was finished. But the Rage, it was far from finished.
Hadder bent over the body, his body shaking with angry energy, and used the bladed arm to remove the fiend's remaining arm, followed by both twisted legs. Finally, Hadder took Skeelis's head in his arms and sawed at the leathery neck until it came free in his hands.
Hadder left the head on the sand and collected the other appendages. With an armful of parts, Hadder marched over to the stands and began tossing the bloody appendages into the silent crowd. "You want meat! Here's your fucking meat, you fucking sub-humans!" Crowds parted where the meat landed; it seemed even these Risers had a limit to their insanity.
In the sandy sea of disbelief, blood-soaked Hadder walked calmly back towards the coliseum gate, picking up Skeelis's head on his way and cradling it under his left arm. As he approached the gate, the four guards remained unmoving. Hadder moved in close. "Get the fuck out of my way, Riser scum." The guards looked over to The Krown, who simply nodded, the hint of a smile on his pale face.
As the guards moved aside, Hadder stepped through and began exiting the coliseum. Behind him, he heard the familiar voice of Vizzano, addressing the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, my lovely Risers, I give you…the Meat Show!" The place exploded in applause.
Marlin Hadder sat across from The Krown, caked in the fiend Skeelis's dried blood. Red flakes fell periodically, drifting down like ghoulish snowflakes to rest on the table between the two men. While Hadder had hoped to leave the Rising directly from the Meat Show, a regiment of Risers had met him outside the coliseum, stating that The Krown was requesting a private meeting. The word "requesting" fell out of the warrior's mouth coated in disbelief and annoyance. Apparently, the Risers were unaccustomed to their king making requests; he only dealt in demands.
To his credit, The Krown had offered a hose with which Hadder could wash off what was left of Skeelis, but Hadder declined, thinking it better to wear the badge of victory for a while longer. The two men now sat in a private tent, with only a table, two chairs, and three half-naked serving women holding trays full of drinks. Both The Krown and Hadder had drinks in front of them, Hadder's already almost empty. No guards were present, showing Hadder how little The Krown thought of his chances if he were to launch a spontaneous attack against the Riser leader.
Hadder leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingering his almost empty glass, adrenaline and Rage still present, but slowly fading into the background. The Krown leaned back comfortably, studying Hadder for an uncomfortable length of time. Finally, he spoke.
"I look upon you as if for the first time, Marlin Hadder."
Hadder looked up and met the giant king's green eyes. What may have passed for a smile hung heavy on the oversized man's face. "What do you want, Krown? Our business concluded with the death of that murderer Skeelis."
The Krown laughed lightly. "But business never concludes, does it? The execution of one deal simply leads to the next. And so on and so on. Our last deal was executed, successfully so I would say, and now I would like to propose another venture together."
"Let me guess, you want me to help you bring upon the Fall of Station."
The Krown's smile became a wicked grin. "Yes, you can certainly help me in toppling this infernal stalemate. But you're only looking at one side of the deal. What about what I can give to you?"
"There's nothing you can possibly offer me."
"How about a chance to play for the winning team? How about a chance to avoid a second, this time permanent, death? You see the numbers I have at my disposal. You see the animals that I lead. You think Skeelis special? He was an excellent killer, no doubt, but I have ten more just like him." The Krown's head cocked to the side as if he had just thought of something. "No one's told you, have they?"
"Told me what?"
"The tide has already turned, Hadder. The Riser crusade cannot b
e stopped. Every day more Setters cross the Skirt to join my ranks. Look around you; how do you think we run so deep? You think I have kidnapped these people? No, Hadder. The Station experiment has failed, as it was always meant to. These limited lives are no longer enough. The people demand possibility!"
"Possibility?"
"Yes. Possibility. Do you know why children, by nature, are happier than adults? It's because their lives are in front of them, with no limits. Dreams of being president, or a professional athlete, or a fucking astronaut abound; there are no restrictions. Our rebirth in Station made us children once more, another chance at life and the world at our fingertips. We even got tools that we didn't have before, tools that would ensure success in this new life." The Krown sighed heavily, took down the remainder of this drink in one large gulp. He motioned for one of the serving girls to bring more. As she delivered the beverages, The Krown stroked her bare breast absently, slapped her naked ass as she returned to the edge of the tent.
"But as the shine of this new life wore off, we became aware of the walls, became aware of the rules that control us. Our lives grew small, a Groundhog Day of experiences. And I saw us for what we really were - calves. Our movement was restricted, our activities were contained. Our muscles became weak and tender as we transformed into veal. And that's what we became - soft meat.
"It was this realization that led to the Riser movement. It is this realization that continues to drive Setters over the Skirt in record numbers. I am offering you a chance to join this inevitability, Hadder. And I only make offers once."
Hadder mulled over The Krown's words, had to admit that some good points were made. But in Hadder's mind, one key point trumped them all. "We had our chance in the world, Krown. We had it, and we blew it. All of us. We don't deserve another crack at it, and lord knows the world certainly doesn't deserve us showing back up, still full of anger and resentment, but now with Elevated bodies to act out our mania."
The Krown's jade eyes took on a hint of danger. "You talk of anger, but you have the Rage, Hadder. You have it like few I've ever seen."
Hadder took another drink, and his head fell. "I know this. But it's not something I welcome, it's not something I bathe in and cradle in my arms. And it's certainly not something I would want to be unleashed upon the world." The Krown had no reaction but to continue his serpent stare, so Hadder continued. "You say you tired of life in the Setting, and I get that. I also questioned what kind of life I could lead there, but I made a home and the best of the situation. You would rather wage war and play deadly games, and that's fine, too. But do it here in the Rising, ask Rott to extend the Skirt, but people don't deserve to die because of your boredom and ambitions."
The Krown leaned forward. "You dare speak Ego Rounds' words to me. What's next, will you spit in my face?" There was a challenge there, but Hadder would not take the bait. "Do you know what Ego Rounds is? He is someone who wants anarchy without chaos. He wants to organize lawlessness. He wants to control those who shun authority. He is a walking contradiction, a fat slob of a warrior. Why is it do you think that my numbers swell as his stagnate?"
"I think you promise the chance to hurt the innocent. And that appeals to most of these sick twists."
The Krown's hand came down on the table, almost splitting the thick wood. He deeply inhaled, an apparent attempt to calm himself. "I give my people something…" The Krown's large arms spread wide, "Grander."
Although Hadder grew tired of this conversation, there was something he remained curious about. "And why do you think you need me, Krown? I'm no one, have been in the city less than anyone."
"Oh, I don't need you, plain man. But you've been placed here by Rott for a purpose, at a time of great turbulence. The Rage you possess, the way you wield that Rage, makes you the perfect Riser. The respect you demand; yes, I see it already in my men, begrudging, but there, makes you a perfect wartime general. I'm going to win this war. I'm going to usher in the Fall. I'm going to conquer these walls. With you beside me, we could minimize casualties, charge the world with an armada of Risers. Take the world by the balls!"
"What makes you think Rott would ever allow you to escape these walls?"
The Krown shot Hadder a conspiratorial look. "It's been done before."
Hadder's eyes went wide. "Viktor Krill."
"Yes."
"Tell me about him."
"He was the first of us, the best of us. He denied Station and denied Rott. He almost singlehandedly ignited the Rising. Many of us thought as he did, but few would face the wrath of the Caesars. After setting off the Riser Wars, he retreated to the shadows, began to study the human form. He disappeared for months. When he returned, he was changed. He was more. Although he looked the same, he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone in history. This, coupled with unmatched nastiness, made him the most formidable man in the world. The Risers would have overtaken Station long ago were he still here."
"What happened to him?"
The Krown smiled. "One day, he was gone, and there was a dead Caesar next to the Station Wall. It was the first and only time anyone had gotten the best of a Caesar, and Viktor Krill did it by himself. He showed us that the Caesars could be killed, that the Wall could be overcome, that Rott could not keep us under his thumb forever. They try to say that Krill died in the desert, but we know better. Viktor Krill lives, and he's closing his fist on the world as we speak. It's our duty to join him."
"Well, I think that about covers it." Hadder rose to his feet, watched as The Krown's face darkened. "I thank you for your offer, but I'm afraid I must decline. You use intelligent words and some sound logic, but all of that is just to cover a fact."
"And what fact is that, plain man."
"That you're a killer. A killer with a reason is still a killer. You want to be a killer, be my guest. But you do it in the Rising. Not in the Setting. And not in the wider world. My Rage needs only a target. Proceed on this course, and you'll be next in its crosshairs."
After completing his speech, Hadder tensed, waiting for The Krown to attack. Instead, the giant king merely remained sitting, his face betraying two emotions - dumfounded respect and a desire to slay Hadder where he stood. When no actions unfolded, Hadder turned to leave but stopped to face The Krown again. "You never let me tell you my condition."
"What is your condition, Setter?"
Hadder held up the head he had been carrying with him since the Meat Show, Skeelis's dumb dead face staring out into the distance. "I'm taking this fucking head with me."
Hadder didn't wait for permission, simply turned and exited the private tent. Cal and Otho waited outside, their weapons returned to them. "Let's go. Quickly," stated Hadder as he passed between the Caesars and through the throngs of Risers still buzzing from the Meat Show. Hadder walked briskly and continued even when he heard the flap of the private tent rip open.
The Krown's voice chased him as he exited the Riser compound. "You had your chance, Marlin Hadder! After Ego Rounds kisses my crown, you'll be next! The Rising is mine! Station is mine! The world will be mine! Do you hear me, you Setter fuck! The world is mine!"
Hadder looked up to Cal as they walked. "I bet he wishes he had had me burned alive."
"There's still time," was all the Caesar said in reply.
CHAPTER 21
Although Haela was quickly drawing to a close, with the first signs of Solay becoming visible, the Celebration Cluster was still buzzing with activity, residents stumbling from Bars giggling, not a care in the world. Hadder looked upon them as he would a child, knowing the atrocities that life had in store for them. Their custom outfits no longer looked chic and creative; they looked unnecessary, irresponsible. The residents skipping around, they looked like meat.
The Risers would feast upon these people.
Hadder limped forward towards the center of the Cluster alone, the Caesars having parted as soon as they crossed back over the Skirt, Cal stating that they had to report back to Albany Rott. Hadder's right l
eg throbbed where Skeelis's sawing had eventually made its way through the sturdy, specially-made fabric. His adrenaline had blocked the pain until they left The Krown's compound; now, it hurt like a bitch.
Eyes widened and followed Hadder as he slowly made his way through the groups of revelers, a crimson apparition come to rob them of their frivolity and innocence. Residents quickly cleared a path for Hadder, but remained a safe distance away; they were never much for missing a show. The broken metal pipe that Hadder had picked up in the Rising on his return made an uncomfortable noise as it dragged across the stone-laid plaza ground.
After what felt like a march for the ages, Hadder finally reached The Soiree Noire. Once a place of sanctuary, a place that helped heal a broken soul, the Bar now looked offensive, a museum for things that didn't matter. Hadder walked between residents gathered outside the Bar, slammed the jagged end of the metal pipe into the soft grass that surrounded the building, and completed his mission.
As he moved away, the screaming started. Men and women alike dove from the horrific sight, afraid that proximity to the installation may haunt their dreams. Fearful that the ghastly sculpture may reanimate, roll after them in their high heels and light-up shoes.
Hadder glanced back, admired his work. Under the bright lights of the Cluster, Skeelis had never looked better. The fiend's eyes had rolled back into his head, just showing the whites, and his long, forked tongue fell from his mouth to hang below his severed neck. Yes, Hadder thought, Skeelis had never looked better than with his head on a fucking stick.
A large crowd gathered, nearly everyone in the Celebration Cluster, to look upon the gruesome scene and its blood-caked creator. Hadder recognized countless faces in the group, but he was worlds away, unable to pull names from the space between them. A shrill voice cut through the collective murmuring.
"What is this? What is this?!" Monty the Mod swept down on his disk of light wearing a white Victorian suit, stepping off of the magical conveyance next to Skeelis's head. "Marlin Hadder, is that you? What in Station has happened to you, boy? And what is the meaning of this repulsiveness outside of my Bar? This is a place of celebration, not a horror show! I'm giving you five seconds to get rid of this repugnance, or I'm going to…"
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