The Dead World Ch. 14

He kicked out, catching one of the younger male's long legs, sending him down to the ground, and as if to emphasize his control over the situation he placed a hand upon the younger male's shoulder with the motion forcing him down to his knees. Dog's eyes searched wildly for the gun, the feeling that the younger Callaghan was simply toying with him only causing his anger to surge.

"You're out of your fuckin' head right now boy... don't make me hurt your stupid ass." The dangerously calm, threatening statement didn't deter Dog from flipping the long blade in his hands, thrusting it backwards, catching the outer-layer of Colton's jeans and shearing fabric and flesh of his outer thigh, dangerously close to serious injury. Skully's patience had fully expired.

He planted his boot firmly in the center of Dog's back, forcing him to fall forward before reaching down to pry the knife from his hands. With no gentle touch, he grasped Dog's shoulder and roughly flipped him onto his back paying no mind to his kicking struggles, striking the teenager with a vicious closed fist as a means of knocking some sense into him before he came down upon him. He straddled the struggling youth, and pressed the deadly sharpened steel against his scarred, slim neck.

"Enough. You and I both know you'll never be able to go through with it... and even if you could, would you be able to live with your fuckin' self after it? Cut the fuckin' shit kid. It's over. It is what it is, and if you want what's best for her--if you know what's good for you... leave it alone."

Dog glared up at him in absolute defiance, the vicious wrinkling of his nose and wildness of his eyes only accented by him spitting, the spray of blood and saliva inspiring a slow antagonistic chuckle from the throat of the older man. Skully tore the knife away to plant it firmly back into its sheath, the blade biting against Dog's throat as he did so to leave a superficial wound behind, and grasping the boy's bleeding neck he brought him up only to violently slam his head down upon the ground.

The teen's vision blurred, the sudden violent motion sending his thoughts clean from his mind and pain to every inch of his gaunt frame. He was rightfully dazed, but it didn't stop Skully from tightening his fingers around his throat and squeezing with demented delight, stealing the breath from him. He began to kick and struggle beneath the older man, who only delighted all the more in his moment of desperation.

"You care so fuckin' much, do you? Huh?! Do I need to fuck submission out of you as well Dog? You want to trade places with your little girlfriend, is that it?"

His struggled attempts at gasping for breath had become most frantic, long digits frantically trying to force the older male to loosen his grasp. Skully did no such thing. The sadistic edge of pleasure in his eyes was too real at that moment... oh, no, he wasn't going to let him off so easily, not this time.

He wanted him absolutely defeated and certain that this was the end... and only then, when Daniel no longer had an ounce of strength in him left to fight, would he think about releasing him. He tightened his gloved fingers around the youngster's throat, ignoring his wild panic, his distressed attempts to pull himself from beneath Skully and the way his fingers clawed helplessly at the older male's grasp as he fought for breath.

It wasn't until he finally felt the youth's strength falter, his violent kicking and thrashing dying down to sporadic jerks as he weakly attempted to shove the man from above him as the threat of losing consciousness began take him, only then did Skully finally withdraw that death grip from around his throat. Dog coughed violently and gasped for breath. Skully closed his hand around the younger man's cheeks with no gentle touch, forcing his hazel eyes to meet his gaze.

"If you ever think to try some shit like this again Daniel, I'm going to cut Charlotte's tongue out of her mouth as a gift for you."

The struggling gasps of the younger male did not deter him from delivering the deadly threat. As he roughly released him from his grasp and moved to stand over Dog, watching him fight to drag himself back to full consciousness for a moment.

"Going forward... every little fuckin' slip you make--if you even so much as breathe in a way I don't like... I'm going to take a little piece of her, and I'm going to make sure she knows it's because you couldn't leave well enough alone... do you understand me?"

As his vision slowly began to regain focus, the chilling threat reverberated through the younger man's mind, all but entirely extinguishing his defiant intent on harming the older man. He felt a very real surge of fear as he began to drag himself up from the ground. Skully set his sights upon the handgun Dog had attempted to murder him with, swiping it from the floor as the youth slowly rose before closing the space between them to offer the weapon back to him with arrogant satisfaction.

Dog dropped his eyes away from him, the crushing defeat of his unsuccessful assassination attempt only further inflamed by the fact that he had put Charlie into the line of danger, again. He slowly took the weapon from Skully's hands, who all but certainly utilized the gesture as a test... one Dog passed when he tucked the firearm into the back of his jeans, dejected, and turned away from him abruptly. Skully could have killed him, just now. He should have killed him for the enraged attempt he had made on his life... but he hadn't. Every inch of him wanted to ignore that, to aim at his chest, and squeeze the trigger...

But he couldn't.

"Good Dog." The low purr of Skully's words were like nails raking over a chalkboard as the youth stalked out of the room, slamming the door violently behind him, his anger all but consuming him. This wasn't over... not by far.

----------

The denizens had begun to gather, the high-powered flood lights beaming down over the once green fields of the stadium almost blindingly vibrant on the deep, fenced enclosure. The swelling crowd was feverishly excited. They piled the stands, and surrounded the high fences in anticipation of the night's event that had been kept secret, for good measure.

In lieu of a public execution for the decorated criminals involved, the council had approved an event for the Pit. It had rapidly become a favored passtime of the denizens of the Three Circles of Hell in the last three years, for the permit to attend was only a measly handful of credits. Less than a meal's worth, for even the poorest among them... yes, even the outer-ring denizens could afford a place among the spectators, if they so desired to partake of the bloodsport.

There were raucous cheers already rising from the heavy gathering as Viper and Alpha were last among the core denizens to make their appearance, but the rallying was not for their illustrious leader and her pair. While they typically received a welcome reception if they sat in attendance, it was always a bitter annoyance to her... the name that they chanted as the drums pounded and the old run-down prison bus ferrying inmates from the barracks slowly parted the crowd.

"Achilles! Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!"

The thunderous roar of the exuberant gathering was accompanied by stomping of their feet, and banging on the worn metal bleachers as the slow train of bound and chained men slowly filed out of the prison transport, one by one. The uproarious noise only seemed to crowd to deafening heights as the core members took their reserved places.

Immaculately dressed and charming as ever the elite took their seats on the bottom row of bleachers just before the enclosed eight foot deep crater that had been ripped across the length of the foot-ball field. The spectators looked on eagerly as one-by-one the inmates were dropped down into the fenced area, down into the mess of dark red clay with its scattered accompaniments of large concrete sewer pipes meant to utilize for cover, a scattering of scraps of rebar and shards of glass littering the muddy terrain.

"Achilles! Achilles! Achilles! Achilles!"

Viper rolled her eyes with the mildest sense of annoyance. For several years now, the bastard taunted her with harrowing escapes from his fate... a life sentence here in the Pit was more than fitting for his crimes, something that no other inmate had survived. And yet somehow, the man called Achilles had managed to evade death... every single time. She wanted dreadfully to kill him herself and be done with it, but the knowledge that he would waste away here and eventually be hindered by old age and fatigue made the waiting game well worth it.

Suited in a sleek form fitting emerald dress that revealed much of her creamy brown skin, accentuating her impressively glorious bust, Viper extended her hand to Alpha as she found her place among the constructed booth meant for the council. Around her shoulders was wrapped a thick coat of dark fur to stave off the winter chill in the air.

The tall, warrior-esque Hunter took her slender hand in his own strong palm and aided her up the small flight of stairs to perch just above the reserved area for her caste. He drew the comfortable plush chair back for her before assuming his usual place with his arms crossed behind his back, standing just behind her to her right, the AK-47 strapped across his broad chest.

"I've got a good feeling for the evening, love... It would be glorious to see him fall tonight." She sighed airily, watching as the Pit became crowded with those found guilty of crimes against the denizens of Three Rings. Yet another crowd favorite had emerged from the transport, and the crowd swelled as shouts of his name interrupted the war-chant of support that had long since swelled for her greatest adversary since the Leader that came before her.

"I don't see why you allow him to live, if he distresses you, my Queen. I would gladly put a bullet in his head myself to see you happy."

"His prolonged suffering pleases me. Besides, he's gone to trial and the jury opted for a life sentence for his crimes... it would show weakness and dishonor to kill him now." She rested her elbow against the smooth velvet lined arm rest of the chair, listening as thunder rolled from the stormy clouds above and rain slowly began to pick up, pitter-pattering against the metal roofing above the booth. She watched on with chilling distaste as Achilles slowly emerged from the transport.

The limber, lean muscular man who's features were distinctly that of a pacific islander halted as the shackles were removed from his feet and hands, his long, straight black hair drawn back in a masculine top-knot, with the remaining length draping down his back. He rolled his shoulders, suited in a thick athletic long sleeve shirt that conformed well to his toned torso, fitting albeit well worn jeans suiting his legs over dark combat boots.

He was one of very few armed men among the inmates drawn from the bus, the pair of short ninjato blades sheathed at his back, their carrying straps overlapping across his chest. The uproarious crowd did little to phase him as the break in the fence was drawn apart once again. He stepped forward, dropping down effortlessly into the Pit.

"That aside... he has the favor of the derelicts--their 'Champion' inmate, Achilles the Slayer. They would sooner rally behind him as a martyr than accept his execution, and turn to his peers for guidance... and we know how deadly that went over the last time it happened."

The nine or so men who had been dropped into the Pit before him had begun to scatter, desperately scraping and fighting amongst one another for places of shelter and what few weapons were there... all save one. To his left, a single man stood, just as placid and passive. He knew this inmate as Raven. He didn't doubt Raven to be younger than he was, a tall and lanky young man with light brown skin and dark hair and eyes.

The twisted locs of his thick, wiry hair held their length at the top, gathered back into a thick black band, the sides of his head buzzed in a well maintained low fade. He was suited in a similar fashion as all inmates were, but unlike Achilles, he had invested his winnings into lightweight armor in black not unlike that of the Hunters with accompanying shoulder pauldrons and thigh guards over his black jeans. Across his chest was the strap of a quiver, and in his gloved hands, a heavy recurve bow of dark steel.

There were no true allies when it came to the Pit... not really. To band together when not facing off against one another only meant better chances for survival. On good days, working in numbers meant the difference between surviving or dying... and on bad days? Well... he had certainly killed his fair share of fellow inmates in gladiator matches, either because they refused to yield, or simply to better his place in Hunter society. So had Raven. It wasn't a hard choice when faced with murderers, rapists and thieves, and they had been fortunate thus far to not have to meet one another in single combat.

The denizens of the mid-ring began to crowd the bookies, casting bets over the survival odds of the gathering of inmates as a blaring air raid alarm began to sound, and a deathly silence settled over the crowd. From the other end of the field they could hear them... the rapid shuffling of their feet, the low snarls and demented moans of the dead as they began filtering through the corral from the shipping container at the other end of the field, dropping down into the Pit drawn by the scent of living beings.

"Ladies and gentlemen... for your entertainment tonight... the Death Match!" The booming, charismatic male voice of the game master was almost sultry over the loudspeakers, enticing the cheers to rise again from the crowds.

Raven drew in a deep, nervous breath, and let his eyes dance to Achilles who was focused entirely on the still opened gates at the far end of the field, watching the dead rain down from the corral above into the Pit. Several of their fellow inmates had begun to move to the gated mud-slick edges, scrambling to try and climb their way up the tall chain link fencing that rose nearly twenty feet high from the deadly ditch carved into the sports stadium. The tops were lined heavily in barbed wire, so it was a wonder where they thought to go... but even that was the least of their worries attempting to scale the metal fencing.

"Nock..." Achilles' deep voice suggested wearily. Raven nodded his head, drawing a sleek arrow with dark feather fletching from the quiver as his back, and positioned it upon the bowstring as he angled the weapon down, not yet drawing back.

"Our resident Inmates face off against this weeks fallen denizens alongside newly convicted low-life scum, including our very own Hunter Jetstream found guilty of murder in the first degree of Head Hunter Wolf... over a mere... twenty... credits!"

A flurry of boos and condemnation followed the announcement, and Raven couldn't help but find his eyes sweeping the gathering of convicted men who had found themselves in this most precarious position now. Among them, certainly enough, was a man dressed expressively in the gear of the Hunters.

Jetstream seemed the most unnecessarily panicked, blubbering and screaming for mercy as he tried to claw his way up and over the other men attempting to scale the fences, despite the fact that his standard issue firearm was still upon his hip. Unlike the average denizens convicted of lesser crimes such as theft, menacing and sexual assault, to murder one of your own was expressively frowned upon. He would receive no such mercy tonight.

"Let... there... be... BLOOOOOOD!"

"...get ready."

From the other end of the field, they could hear the heaviness of the final reanimated's breath as it slowly emerged from the shipping container at the end of the corral. The lesser undead had already broken into a dash, tearing across the field as they targeted the living inmates who began to battle viciously for their lives against the various biters intent on making meals out of them.

Achilles' focus was on the dark corral... and the behemoth slowly picking up speed. The colossal once-man lept down into the Pit from the other end, still suited in his armor with a vicious gash tore across his massive throat, a blood curdling screech tore from his bloodied mouth. As if inspired by the presence of the fallen Hunter the jeering and animated crowd began to howl, as if a pack of wolves, to honor the fallen warrior.

"Don't fuckin' miss."

"These arrows ain't gonna do shit to that fuckin' thing, bro. Look at it!" Raven's low, nervous hiss came as he drew the bow up to eye level and rapidly pulled back the taut bowstring, releasing the broadhead arrow to send it whizzing into the air. It fell short, impacting the fallen Hunter's armor and piercing into his shoulder to absolutely no effect.

Wolf had set his sights on the gathering of three attempting to scale the fence, but most especially it seemed... Jetstream, among them. Achilles reached back to grasp the hilts of the ninjato blades, the sharpened japanese steel singing as he drew them from their sheaths, readying himself as the behemoth reanimated tore across the field to thunderous applause. Lightning streaked the sky, turning night to day as the freshly reanimated corpse closed the hundred yard gap with sickening speed.

The fence surged with electricity, only amplified by the slow falling rain, causing the men attempting to escape by making their way up and away from the raging group of the undead to drop like flies, right into the hands of the enraged, lively reanimates.

The fallen Hunter still with his sights set upon Jetstream took absolutely no time at all in charging the dazed Hunter who had fallen some six feet from the steep fenced walls of the Pit violently to the ground once the game master flipped the switch to activate the electrical current through the gates surrounding the enclosure. With a blood curdling scream from Jetstream's lips, the violent reanimated corpse of his once-comrade all but lept upon him and began to rip and tear at his flesh with his hands and teeth, detaching both of his arms in a gruesome displace to the vicious applause and cheers of the crowd as he took his revenge after death.

"Cover me."

"You're fucking INSANE!" Raven might have laughed if he wasn't absolutely overcome with fear at the sight of the massive, freshly fallen Hunter effectively ripping his murderer to pieces against the fence not twenty feet from them. Achilles had already begun to move, and Raven retrieved another arrow, taking aim and releasing to embed in the skull of one of several charging biters that had taken notice of the swift-footed Asian man on the move as he closed the distance between himself and his monstrous foe.

Raven nocked another and set it loose, narrowly catching a screeching undead woman as she made an attempt to leap upon Achilles from behind, and as he neared the distracted behemoth of an undead bastard, the prisoner turned warrior brought the blades down into Wolf's neck with vicious determination. The deadly sharpness of the blades was halted by solid vertebrae, the resistance of which was simply too intense to hack his way through to sever the reanimate's spinal cord...

The violent motion was enough to inspire the creature to lose interest entirely in ravenously gnawing the throat of the man who had effectively ended his time among the living. Jetstream had yet to fully expire, convulsing violently upon the ground in a puddle of his own blood blended with thick red clay. With a vicious, guttural snarl the fallen Hunter rounded on Achilles, who barely had time to wrench the bloodied blades free and bend backwards to avoid the vicious swinging of its arms, the deafening roar of the crowd blending with the heavier flow of rain and another rolling boom of thunder.