The world was on fire, Will's head feeling like someone had struck him with an axe and cleaved him in half. The lone act of picking up his head from the pillow felt like the greatest accomplishment known to man. There was a very good chance that Will had drank not only a bit too much, but a lot of too much the prior night, to the point where he couldn't even remember what had happened. He peeled himself up off of his sheets slowly, making sure not to move too quickly while it felt like there were a ton of loose nails rattling around inside of his skull. There was an argument. He remembered that much. Vera was pissed off with him and Jenna, poor Jenna, she was... Much to his astonishment, when he turned around he found Jenna laying sprawled out on the bed.

How much of the previous night had he imagined? Will reached out and shook her gently. "Jenna," he said. "Jenna, wake up."

"Whaa?" she yawned.

"You buggered off last night, or am I crazy?"

"I was just talking." She rolled onto her back. "We just talked about my singing, is all. They told me I should go back home later on and here I am."

"Fuckin' hell," he said. "So they weren't.... trying to steal you away?"

"From you? Of course not. Can I go back to sleep, Will? I'm tired."

"Course, darling," he said. "Imma go scare up some caf."

She sunk back down into the sea of pillows and blankets, her hair flowing down over her face, while William stumbled out the door of their suite. There should be coffee brewing down the hall somewhere, at least in the lounge. Might even be able to scare up some pain killers as well, hopefully. He wasn't overly hungry, but he knew that some greasy food would do him well after such a mind fuck of a night. The bright lights of the hallway were blinding, Will stumbling past different groups of people and groaning an incoherent greeting towards them whenever they stared at him. They knew who the fuck he was. Fuck whatever TK Gabriel did in the arena, William Farrington would show him up and he'd do it soon.

"Christ, you look awful," Vera's voice greeted him, along with the aroma of coffee and eggs.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled. "I need some caf."

"You need a lot more than that," Vera said. She poured some coffee into a mug and presented it to him, then helping him into a chair before grabbing a plate and slopping a few spoonfuls of eggs and hash browns onto it.

"Thanks, doll," he grumbled.

"Want to talk about last night?"

"No," he said in between heaping mouthfuls. They sat quietly while Will continued to shovel eggs and hash into his mouth, taking big gulps of coffee. Vera was staring out the window, looking more distracted than he had seen her in a long time. He had said some things to her last night that he shouldn't have. She made a lot of sense sometimes, but then again, Jenna came back. He had his suspicions about Branch, but he continued to be on Branch's good side and was still the champion of the arena. "I'm still the champion, you know. No poofter can take that yet."

"I guess not, Will."

"Jenna came back."

"I saw," she said.

"So, Branch didn't steal nothing away, nothing to worry about, innit?"

"Not really."

"What now?"

"C'mon, Will, wake up," she slapped him on the head, the impact from the blow shaking loose what felt like tiny glass shards to rattle around inside of his skull. "Branch and his two henchmen found me out last night after I left the suite, cornered me and Branch did his whole creepy 'oh you are special' act to me."

"Cocksucker."

"Yeah. He gave me the whole pitch, how brilliant and underutilized I was. Luckily midway through the sales pitch he got called away, some sort of emergency, an escape or something."

"But Jenna was in this morning, I don't get it..."

Stolen story; please report.

"Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he's just trying to scare you? But Will, I wouldn't trust him. Neither of us are safe."

"Aye, I hear ya, alright," he said.

"Brother," Stuart was standing in the doorway.

"Fuckin' hell, ya botherin' my Vera last night?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stuart said. "Branch wants to see you."

"After trying to poach both my women?"

"Shit went down," Stuart said. "His office, c'mon."

"Pain in my arse."

There was only a one level disparity between William and Branch's penthouse, but the few times he had been up there had always blown him away. Branch made sure that everyone on the floor beneath him—the best of the best—were taken care of. I mean, waking up, sauntering down the hall, and getting some quality grub was a sweet deal, as were his suite and all the other perks that came with it. The thing is, Branch lived like a king up on the top floor of the Tower. They restricted elevator access to that penthouse to only those with the key for it, Stuart of course being one of the few to have it. Upon entering his realm, there were many plants all around, the sun beaming down through the skylights and even the smell differed from the rest of the Tower.

Everything about it screamed lavish, but Will couldn't help but always feel blown away by it. He wasn't jealous of it, he just wanted to find himself in that position someday, to be the guy at the top of the tall tower with access to any and everything. Two drop-dead gorgeous women in neon bikinis walked by, leaving behind a trail of petite, wet footprints, tracking them from the pool behind them. They stopped at a few of the lounge chairs that had direct sunlight and Will had to pry himself away from the sight, Stuart grumbling to him to not keep Branch waiting. This was how Branch lived his life; it was like nothing had ever happened, or even yet, something happened, but Branch grew more powerful from it. The thought had crossed his mind before that Branch did sort of benefit from the known world ending, but it was an unthinkable thought that someone would unleash this sort of hell on humanity for personal gain.

"Well, if it isn't my old friend, Will," Branch said, hand outstretched.

"Sorry, boss," Will said. "I'm a little worse for wear, hair o' the dog an' all that."

"I understand, don't you fret, my friend."

"So what's so urgent?"

"I'm sure that you saw what unfolded last night. Quite an event, wasn't it? TK Gabriel using your ring and in a way overcoming the Crusher. Everyone is talking about it."

"Yeah, that cunt."

"As I'm sure you are aware, the Crusher survived, though. TK Gabriel didn't quite win then, did he? In fact, that is how the arena works, is it not? You fight for your life and you win by taking life, correct?"

"Yessim," he was wondering where this was going.

"There was only one fight left for you out there before Gabriel arrived. I think that we'd both agree on that."

"I guess so," Will said. "Crusher seemed outta reach to me, innit?"

"Yes, and no. Come come, Will, you are the Champion of the Arena! You are the man who helped to bring order to the wasteland! Don't doubt yourself so. Oh, silly me, Stuart, get your brother a drink."

"Aight boss," Stuart rummaged through the liquor cabinet in Branch's wood-and-golden decorated office.

"So you think I can beat him?"

"I don't think," Branch said. "I know you can defeat the Crusher."

"Well fuck. I dunno about all that."

"No, see, you don't understand what I'm saying. You go out there and fight the Crusher and I'll assure you that you'll be the victor in that fight."

"You think I can kill the Crusher?"

"Oh please. You won't have to. If TK Gabriel has become this benevolent figure by sparing—or at least trying to spare lives—then you, my friend, can have the Crusher on the brink of destruction only to let him live."

"I still don't understand..."

"That metal chassis that Gabriel kicked last night? You remember that?"

"Ya."

"That was a new device that we've been working on. The Crusher has been an instrument of chaos. The only control that we've ever had has been through tasers and brute force. In that way, he has been a failure of an experiment. But that device has helped us to control him."

"Dear fuck," he murmured. "You aren't saying?"

"Absolutely," Branch said. "I have full control over the Crusher now. He is no longer an instrument of chaos. He is the hand that I can use to crush those that oppose me and to strike fear into the hearts of those who believe me to be wrong."

Branch's sadistic smile caught Will off guard, him taking the glass of brandy from his brother and gulping it all down while it burned his throat. There was a certain sense of pride in what Will had accomplished out there in the arena. He had won all of his fights fair and square; he had made a name for himself by being the toughest man in the wasteland. Never had he imagined having a fight thrown, but then again, what could the harm in it be?

"Well fuck," Will said. "Let's do this shit. Show that poofter Gabriel who's in charge here."

"Good," Branch said. "Good. Good."

"When do I get to fight him, by the way?"

"That I'm not sure of," he said. "We had some... complications with Mr. Gabriel late last night and he's in a holding cell."

"No shit? What'd that bugger try to do?"

"Leave with some of my property."

"What an arse. So what does that mean?"

"For now, nothing. We let him cool off a bit, but his life now hangs in the balance of the arena and the arena alone. That's the only way he's seeing the outside of that cell."

"I'd be happy to put a poundin' on him out there. In fact, I'd fancy it."

"I know you would, my dear friend, but that will have to wait for now. First, you destroy the Crusher, agreed?"

"Aye."

"Oh, and... That Vera of yours? She's quite the gal."