Station

by Jarrett Brandon Early

  "The Risers! The Risers!" repeated DD as he fell against the counter, trying in vain to catch his breath. Hadder and Lilly ran up as Royal poured the exhausted man some water.

  "What are you saying," demanded Hadder as he reached DD. "What about the Risers? Talk, man!"

  "Let him catch his breath first," said the always kind Lilly.

  DD took huge gulps of air, chased them down with equally large swallows of water. He finally nodded his head, able to continue. "The Risers, they're gathering at the Skirt."

  Panic seized Hadder. It was too soon, far too soon. "Where are the Risers from, the North or South?"

  DD shook his head. "Hell if I know. But there are two large groups of them gathered just south of the Caesar Bridge. Looks like every fucking Riser in the city."

  Hadder's face wore a mask of worried confusion. "Which way are the groups facing? Are they facing the Skirt?"

  DD shook his head frantically. "No, no. They're facing each other. Looks like they're putting on a goddam show."

  "So they are," whispered Hadder to himself.

  "What was that, Hadder?" said Royal.

  "I said DD is right. They are putting on a show. They want all of Station to see their forces, see who's going to come out on top. Ego Rounds versus The Krown. For all the marbles."

  "Then what the hell do we do, Hadder?" Royal sounded legitimately concerned, the first time Hadder had sensed concern in his unflappable friend.

  "We go watch."

  Residents from across Station had gathered on the western side of the Skirt. Hadder, Lilly, and Royal fought their way through the masses to reach the front of the crowd. Several residents voiced their displeasure with being pushed out of the way, but quickly moved aside when they saw that it was Marlin Hadder parting the throngs.

  As the trio reached the Skirt, they found Glen already there, staring across the barrier into the dark unknown. Simple nods were all that were exchanged in terms of greeting. The eleven Caesars stood on the Skirt dozens of yards apart like sentinels, weapons in hands ready to draw blood, daring the Risers to cross.

  Across the Skirt, two Riser armies had gathered. The Krown's obviously larger, somewhat disorganized soldiers stood in stark contrast to Ego Rounds' smaller force that held tight formations, blades at the ready and projectiles aimed with steady hands. Looking at the collected warriors, it looked to Hadder that The Krown's numbers dwarfed those of Ego Rounds, even more so than previously thought. It seemed that the past few weeks of fighting had favored the North, tipping the scales even further in the direction of The Krown.

  During their hurried trek to the Skirt, Solay had fallen into Haela, dimming the city and the battlefield Hadder now faced. The bright lights of the Skirt, however, clearly illuminated those Risers closest to the Setter audience while torches and bonfires lit the remainder of the armies. From the gathered Risers on the right stepped Ego Rounds, his massive form unmistakable against the backdrop of his men and their fires, light gleaming off the metal knuckles that adorned his hammer-like hands.

  Ego Rounds continued forward, stopping about twenty feet in front of his followers. "The Krown! Let it be known that I, Ego Rounds, challenge you to one-on-one combat, to the death. May the victor control the Rising and the fate of Station. Do you accept? Or would you rather forfeit your power and retain your life? The choice is yours!"

  Complete silence fell over the scene, stealing sound from both Riser and Setter alike before deep laughter cut through the muted air. The Krown stepped out from between his supporters, his jade eyes wild with excitement and bloodlust. He moved forward on light feet, more animal than man, also halting twenty feet ahead of his forces.

  As Hadder looked on at the increasingly barbaric scene, puzzle pieces clicked into place, allowing Hadder to see the entirety of the picture. Over the last few weeks, Ego Rounds had clearly seen that his men, despite their superior discipline and tactical know-how, were no match for the North's vast numbers, insane combat Elevations, and unmatched ferocity. As the men and women under his command fell, Ego made a brave choice, a challenge that he knew The Krown could not shy away from, lest he loses the faith of his minions.

  Ego Rounds was going to win or lose the Riser War here and now. Hadder's stomach churned. Whether from anxiety or a desire to join the fracas, Hadder was unwilling to ask himself.

  The Krown, although half as girthy as Ego Rounds, towered over his enemy. While Ego was tall himself, he was dwarfed by The Krown, who came second to only the Caesars in terms of body intimidation. The Krown let the size discrepancy sink in for a moment before he spoke. "Ego Rounds! You know you are beaten; these last weeks have shown you the futility of your resistance. Anyone can see that this is a desperate attempt to steal victory from my jaws of defeat."

  Ego Rounds shot back. "You sound frightened, my melatonin-deficient friend. Does The Krown fear a fair fight with a strong black man?"

  The Krown laughed again. "Not at all, Ego. Just pointing out that I see the cause of your newfound bravery. This is the final card you have to play. Unfortunately for you, it's not the one you need."

  "I tire of your words, you pale muthafucka. Accept or fuck off. Let all your men see who you are when you aren't hiding behind them."

  The Krown's green eyes flared. "I accept. Happily."

  "No weapons. No assistance. Just you and I."

  The Krown grabbed ahold of one of the spikes jutting out from his head, pulled at it for effect. "These don't come off, Ego."

  Ego held up his battering ram hands, showing his metal knuckles to The Krown. "These don't either. We'll call it even. You ready?"

  "I've been ready. Tell me, when I open up that fat chest of yours, will blood or gravy come pouring out?"

  "I'm going to rip those ridiculous rods out of your head, white boy. Maybe melt them down and fashion my own crown from your memories."

  The Krown began to pace. Hadder could see the anger welling up in him. "You won't take my crown! But you will kiss it! Come now! Come kiss it!"

  The Krown's army roared to the heavens, and Ego Rounds' minions, although fewer in number, matched their foes with a savage scream of their own, followed by chants of "Ego." Hadder's heart threatened to punch a hole in his chest as he watched the two titans face off.

  Ego Rounds, finally tiring of the posturing, took off in a sprint towards his pale nemesis. Although massive, Ego moved impossibly fast, his light feet a blur against the Rising's broken ground. The Krown smiled wickedly, took five giant steps forward, and dug in. Ego came on like lighting, slamming into the taller man, and releasing a thunderclap that stole the air from everyone on the battlefield.

  Although he was forced back, The Krown refused to fall, eventually holding his ground against the boulder that was Ego Rounds. The first attempt foiled, Ego separated and squared up, his metal knuckles waving threateningly. The Krown followed suit and initiated fisticuffs with a looping left hook that caught nothing but air. Two jabs also failed to find their target, and a straight right was blocked by Ego's left arm protecting his head.

  Now it was Ego's turn. He immediately followed The Krown's blocked right with a right hook of his own, catching the man in the ribs and drawing a pained grunt. The Krown's arms fell slightly from the blow, and it was all Ego needed to launch a full-scale attack. A high left hook passed above The Krown's defensives to catch him on the temple while a straight right shattered his nose, sending a river of blood to cascade over the man's mouth and chin. Aided by his metal knuckle Elevation, Ego was tenderizing The Krown and wouldn't need many more clean shots to end the fight.

  The Krown staggered back, wiping his messy face, and reset. Concern dotted the monster's visage as he began to truly understand the might of his foe. As Ego danced towards him again, preparing another vicious combination, The Krown clearly realized that he was no match for his dark-skinned competition on the feet, and took a new approach.

  The Krown darted forward, getting inside of Ego's dangerous hands, and slammed his head down
, looking to send his central spike into the South Rising leader's face. Ego anticipated the move, however, and caught the metal skewer with his meaty left hand. For a long moment, progress was halted in either direction, the massive men's muscles tense as they waged a war of attrition. Slowly but surely, The Krown's head began to lower, lance inching closer to Ego's exposed face.

  With a primal yell, Ego twisted violently to his left, turning The Krown's weaponized head away from Ego's face and into the perfect position for what came next. Not only did the frantic maneuver, place Ego's face out of harm's way, it also freed up his right arm that had been previously contained by The Krown's left. Still controlling The Krown's head via his iron grip on the central head spike, Ego Rounds threw the hardest right hand of his life at the immobilized target, connecting squarely with the North Riser's jaw and sending him reeling backward. As The Krown stumbled, Ego moved in for the kill, fainting right and throwing a textbook left hook that caught the wobbly man on the tip of the chin with the metal knuckles, sending him to the ground, unconscious.

  Both armies were shocked into stunned silence as the seemingly invincible Riser leader fell. Ego Rounds, shaking with adrenaline, lifted his hands to the sky in a sign of victory, sending his men and women into a frenzy. His people urging him on, Ego stalked towards his unconscious foe, his crazed eyes glazed over in bloodlust. "I told you," he yelled to the body at his feet, "That I was gonna rip those goddam spikes off your goddam head!"

  Ego kneeled at The Krown's head, ready to finish the battle in gruesome fashion. Reaching for one of his foe's cherished Elevations, Ego stopped suddenly, seeing a wicked grin on The Krown's face. Recognizing the ruse for what it was, Ego lurched forward to grasp those deadly points.

  But he was too late.

  The Krown opened his evil jade eyes and thrust his head forward in a blink, his too-thick neck sending the central spike through the air like a spear to pierce Ego Rounds' enormous left knee. Ego roared in pain and fell back to land hard on his backside.

  The Krown was up in an instant, readying a blow of his own. Ego attempted to stand but immediately collapsed, his enormous weight too much for the ruined knee. Just as Ego hit the ground again, The Krown connected with a looping uppercut that blasted Ego's head backward and sent the girthy man to his back.

  The Krown fell upon him like a swarm, raining down heavy lefts and rights, many of which snuck through Ego's compromised defenses. With a useless left leg, Ego was unable to get to his feet. The remainder of the fight would take place on the ground, in The Krown's world. A downward left opened a cut over Ego's right eye, and a sharp elbow, although partially blocked, caused a significant contusion to form on his dark forehead.

  With Ego clearly dazed, The Krown got back to his feet and launched into the second phase of his attack, firing heavy, booted kicks at his downed opponent's face and head. Hadder grew nauseous as he watched Ego Rounds, a man he hardly knew but had quickly gained respect for, eat kick after kick, punch after punch, from the beastly Krown.

  After what felt like an eternity, The Krown stepped away to admire his work, also providing Hadder with a clear view of the downed man. Ego's face looked like a catcher's mitt, swollen beyond recognition, and he bled from a dozen wounds, leaving crimson liquid to pool on the rough ground. Ego, showing pure heart, tried to rise but fell back to his elbows, his body refusing even simple commands.

  The Krown laughed deeply, a hateful sound that served as the perfect backing track for the dark scene. He yelled to the South Risers. "Is this your king? This tub of a man? No more!"

  With that, The Krown stood above the prone Ego Rounds. "I told you, Ego. Everyone, especially you, must kiss the crown." A scream of pure heartbreak broke through the Haela, and Hadder looked over to see Kamaria burst from the crowd of South Risers, three men putting forth full effort to hold her back. The Krown glared at Kamaria and shot a cruel, sharpened-tooth smile at her, watching gleefully as her tears discolored the dusty ground.

  "And so, the Riser Wars end," Royal simply stated at Hadder's side. Lilly gripped his hand in hers.

  The Krown bent low, took Ego's head in his large hands, and ran his central head spike through the man's skull, pressing down until the two Riser legends touched foreheads. The Krown then kissed Ego Rounds gently on the lips as the life drained from his eyes. He held the pose for a moment, allowing all in observance to fully take in the scene, before rising and backing away, pulling the lance from the fallen Ego Rounds.

  The Krown rose to his full height, and Ego's blood ran down the spike and fell across his pale face, giving the monstrous man a makeup job that made him even more terrifying. Hadder looked over and saw that Kamaria had stopped fighting, was now simply weeping into her leather-gloved hands.

  The Krown took center stage, addressing everyone in earshot. "I am The Krown. And I claim victory over Ego Rounds, bested him in fair combat. The Rising, both North and South, now belongs to me. South Risers! You have until the end of the next Solay to report to my encampment, where you will finally join the winning team and aid our preparations. My army will sweep South at the turn of Haela to collect resources and establish bases. Any Riser found below the Lethe will be eliminated. Brutally. Do not die for nothing! Pledge allegiance to your new king, and together we will escape these walls and make the world pay for their crimes against us!"

  The Krown's followers exploded into a cacophony of hoots, hollers, and applause. Much to Hadder's surprise, some of the South Risers followed suit, shouting and raising weapons into the air. The Krown continued. "Go now. Go, my Risers. Celebrate. Rest. Celebrate more. Rest more. For soon, soon, my precious Risers, we shake free of the shackles of our oppressors. Soon, we will slay the Caesars, conquer the weak Setters, and exact our vengeance on the world!"

  The Riser jubilation reached a fever pitch, and Hadder feared an all-out riot and spontaneous advance across the Skirt. Risers from both sides moved closer to the Skirt, shouting curses at the row of Caesars. In return, the Caesars adopted fighting stances, battle-axes, cudgels, swords, hammers, sickles, and flails readied in the air.

  The Krown laughed again but turned to face his followers with upraised hands. "I love the passion, but not yet, my pets. Let us cock the bow back farther before releasing our arrows. Then, we shall penetrate any resistance put up against us."

  The Risers, whether from The Krown's words or the frightening, unified Ceasar front, backed away, slowly bleeding into the dim Haela before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

  The Krown turned once more to face the Setter audience, looking through the line of Caesars. His fiery green eyes sought out and found Hadder among the residents. His wicked smile was gone, replaced with a look of what could almost be labeled disappointment. "Marlin Hadder. I see you looking on. I can feel your unrest. While you lie next to your woman like an old man, the Rage inside you begs for blood, thirsts for pain - two things you know I could give you. But don't worry, Hadder, this isn't an invitation. No, you had your chance. The only man to spit in my face and live. Well, rest assured, Hadder, I will rectify that issue, right that wrong. I called you a dead man before, and still, you are. Do not get comfortable in your small reprieve. Ready your weak Setter friends. I'm coming for you. Even Albany Rott cannot protect you forever." Having concluded his business and having said his piece, The Krown marched away, head held high and metal Elevations reflecting the small Idol Moon's rays.

  A small contingent of South Risers remained behind, led by Kamaria. They approached the still body of Ego Rounds, each placing their hands on the large man's chest in a show of respect. They attempted to move the giant's corpse, failing three times before two Caesars joined them in their efforts. Eventually, the fallen Riser was successfully raised into the air and carried back towards his home in South Rising, where he would be given a funeral fitting a king.

  Lilly quietly wept on Hadder's shoulder as Royal and Glen stood in respectful silence. Hadder and the other residents moved to return to their Clusters
and Bars and living quarters, leaving the Caesars alone to guard the Skirt. As Hadder walked, he looked up towards the distant blackness of Rott Manor. There, on the roof of the building, two embers burned bright and clear, taking in everything beneath them, missing nothing.

  But whether they cared or not, Hadder couldn't know.

  PART THREE:

  An Inevitability Called the Fall

  CHAPTER 22

  "Mister Rott won't let that happen. The Caesars won't let that happen. They've always protected us, and I don't see why that would change."

  Hadder threw his arms up in exasperation and readied some harsh words for Blindman Stu, the resident leader of a Cluster just west of The Royal Jelly. Hadder was stopped, however, by Royal Winter's gentle arm on his shoulder, selecting instead to stare daggers into Blindman's white eyes. Blind when he came to Station, Stuart Jenkins was gifted both his nickname and his sight by the city. Obviously, he felt a tremendous obligation to Station, but not enough to bleed and shed blood for it.

  Royal put Hadder's thoughts into kinder words. "You were at the Great Duel, Blindman. You saw, with those fantastic new eyes of yours, the numbers the Risers now have. You saw the strength and brutality of The Krown. Did you know that since the Great Duel, Riser numbers have continued to grow? Our way life is at dire risk. If we don't do anything, we'll all be welcoming a second death shortly."

  Blindman's white eyes moved between the two men making appeals. Although his sight had been restored, Blindman has chosen to keep the dead look of his eyes. Perhaps he was still dead inside, as well. He retorted, "No ten men, twenty men, can best a Caesar; they're demigods. And Mister Rott will never let his city fall; I refuse to think otherwise."

  Even Royal now was becoming annoyed. "Blindman, the Caesars were created to manage a few bad apples, not truckloads of them. Soon, the Risers will have the numbers and the unity they need to overpower even our colossal defenders. And as for Mister Rott, I don't know that he cares for the city in the way that he once did. Perhaps he is simply waiting for its destruction, using its fall as an excuse to move on to other things."