The moon stood aloof, its gaze lofty, its celestial form seemingly unattainable among the stars, pale glow bathing a penthouse atop a tower that loomed over the surrounding structures. Anyone beholding the sign shining on the building would instantly recognize it—a symbol of a company that, to those below, might as well have been the moon itself. The penthouse held the atmosphere of a courtroom damning a prisoner to life in a cage.
“Useless,” a voice spat, almost as if decreeing — like a law, officially made.
Asher stared up at the speaker, his father—the pillar of his life and the reason others valued him as his son. With gray hair and black eyes, traits of his family, this imposing figure was past mid-age yet still held the vigor of a twenty-year-old, which was how Asher had been born. His father’s interest in women had never waned with growing older, that interest spreading among more than a few.
But his words were harsh.
“A son of mine, a support type?” his father continued on with disbelief. “No, you must be illegitimate. That slut mother of yours must’ve opened her legs for more men than me.”
Asher felt crestfallen. The pillar of strength in his family was disparaging his mother, the only supporter in his life. His mother would also be disappointed in him, seeing his failure to impress his father as a slight against her. Upon discovering that Asher was a support type, only rage would his mother feel, knowing it had lowered her own status in the company.
Despite this, Asher's desire for his father's approval remained unchanged.
“I will be the best support type Anointed,” Asher promised. Though he was late in receiving the Master System to become Anointed, he would work until he dropped to become what his father wanted him to be.
“What’s with these promises? Do you think I care? I want my sons and daughters to be at least a bit useful to me. Attack types, strong and ruthless. Defense types, immovable and stalwart. Speed types, able to infiltrate our enemies’ territory and steal their secrets. Healer types, able to assist in the manufacturing of our products. But a support type…?” Asher’s father scowled deeply. “Enough of this. Why are you still here? Leave immediately.”
Asher felt as if the world had gone still, with sound and color draining from everything. He knew he had disappointed his father, the one man who was like him
“Asher, how could you do this to us?!” his mother's voice exploded as he entered the house. “You know if I don’t rise higher in the company, that bitch Janice from accounting will gain more sway over the company! Fuck! Asher, you fucking piece of shit! Why the fuck did I raise such a loser?”
Asher didn’t feel any ill will towards his mother. She was right. Janice, another woman who had birthed a few of his father’s children, would rise in status. Janice was his mother’s enemy. There would start being accidents around their lives — inoperable brakes in the car, shady individuals shadowing them on the street, flights where the pilots that would jump out mid-flight with a parachute to let the plane crash.
Asher wasn’t high up in legal inheritance, but he was higher than Janice’s children — not for long if they had anything to do with it.
One day, Asher left home. He would prove to them he, as a support type, was worth more than any other Anointed type — than any other of his father’s children.
***
Asher awoke to a world bobbing up and down as if he were lost at sea, the sky gray and the world filling with water from a downpour overhead. Held aloft, he was riding upon something, though it wasn’t a horse or a motor vehicle. Below the Corp Anointed, hoisting him up, was the bloody figure of a young man with grit in his eyes and an unquenchable will filling his expression, undeterred by the rain pounding down on him.
“What is this…?” Asher groaned, feeling as if he had fallen off a two-story building onto his head.
“Are you awake?” rasped Lucian, the man carrying the Corp Anointed. “Can you walk? It would be nice to rest, to be honest.”
“It’s you, Crow…” Asher pushed away Lucian’s grip and slid off his shoulders into the rainwater below. “You’re dying.”
Despite the torrent, Lucian wouldn’t stop bleeding, his body covered in bruises and lacerations. It must’ve taken all his strength to defeat the [Succubus].
“Don’t worry, Ash. We’re getting out of here,” Lucian guaranteed.
Wet, gray hair plastered to his face, Asher stared evenly at Lucian’s blood-drenched expression. However that fight with the Succubus ended, it had left him at death’s door. A glaze had started to gloss over the young man’s eyes. His breathing was uneven, his legs unsteady. Lucian wasn’t sure where he was right now.
“Madkids don’t give up,” Lucian smirked, his bloodshot eyes unfocused, “Remember that. And if you’re going to hang out with us, you’re going to do as I say.”
Asher remained silent. These were the last moments of Lucian’s life. He had become delirious. Old memories converged from the past with Lucian’s present, causing him to see and believe things that weren’t real.
Lucian nodded, taking Asher’s silence as agreement. “That’s good. You should listen to Camelia, but what I say goes. She’s smart, but I’m realistic. Remember that.” Lucian patted Asher on the shoulder. “Ash, you’re one of us now, got it? As long as the Madkids have each other, nothing can stop us.”
Asher’s dark eyes followed Lucian as he fell face-first into the two inches of water flooding the street. The Corp Anointed flipped Lucian over and saw the life begin to drain from his eyes. Where had Lucian come from? Why was he so foolish as to help dust barbarians when everyone knew they weren’t worth saving? So many questions Asher had, but none would be answered as Lucian would die soon.
“You weren’t so bad, Crow,” Asher decided to say, feeling the urge to speak a few departing words for the young man who had saved his life. “You are incompetent and a fool, though you didn’t seem like the same kind of New DC trash that usually comes out of the outer rings.” He placed a hand on Lucian’s chest and sighed. “I’m not good at this. Sentimentality isn’t my strong suit. Rest well, Lucian.”
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Asher’s dark eyes squinted against a sudden beam of light shining in his face.
“Lord Anointed?” an aged voice yelled over the rain, a flashlight illuminating the vicinity. “Lord Anointed, is that you?”
“Who’s there?” Asher responded, rising to his feet and retrieving his Sky Metal rapier from his pocket, readying it.
The light shifted, revealing Mich, the old Wastelander who had been in the wooden cage, completely drenched. “Where’s the hero— I mean, where’s your friend?” The old man was too embarrassed to express his admiration for Lucian. It was, in fact, Lucian’s heroics that had motivated him to search through the bad weather for them.
“He’s here.” Asher pointed his rapier at Lucian in the water. Though he wanted to clarify that they weren't friends, it didn't seem necessary.
Mich knelt down and found Lucian clinging to life by a thread. “Fucking hell! That demon really did a number on him!” From his pocket, he produced a transparent, wiggling ball. With coaxing, the ball formed a face with three holes, resembling a coconut. “I need your help, Slimy. Can you close this guy’s wounds for me?” The transparent ball nodded its three-holed face and flopped onto Lucian’s body, spreading over him like a see-through layer of film.
The old man hailed from the part of the Wasteland that tamed monsters; this squishy ball was an [Immature Slime].
“Can you carry him?” Mich prompted Asher, though he wasn’t too sure about the suit-wearing Anointed. This young man didn’t seem too fond of people from the Wasteland.
“Fine,” Asher agreed and picked up Lucian as if he weighed nothing—the strength of an Anointed. “But where will you take him? Liberty Heights has nothing.” According to records, this area had been looted down to its bones. Even the company he was a part of had surveyed these ruins and found nothing of value.
“No time to waste. A monster wave is coming.” Mich treaded through the water to begin going down an alleyway. He turned back to see Asher standing still. His hand raised the flashlight to highlight Asher’s attractive, smooth face. “Problem?”
Asher’s expression had gone grave, and the need to drop Lucian and leave permeated through him. A monster wave would prevent anyone from leaving for as long as the wave remained. There was no telling when it would disperse—whether it be a few hours, a day, a month, or even a year—as much was known about this natural disaster as there was about Monster Gates, which was not much at all.
Mich released a tiny bug into the water, and at his word, it suddenly grew to three feet tall, standing like a person. It resembled a cross between a cricket and beetle.
“This is a [Moonbeetle], and it's poisonous, even for an Anointed like yourself,” Mich threatened, his eyes narrowed at the well-dressed Asher. “I’m too old to be carrying a grown man on my back. I’m going to have you bring Lord Anointed along, and if you do that, everything’ll be peachy.” He whispered to the [Moonbeetle], and it began to emit what sounded like cricket song. “If not, you’ll dance with this little guy.”
Mich had been collecting any small monster he could get his hands on. He found the [Moonbeetle] in the park; his [Immature Slime], he found in an old supermarket dairy aisle. Monster taming was what allowed a Wastelander like him to survive for so long out here.
Asher sighed. The Corp Anointed would have no problem killing the old Wastelander and the insignificant bug monster, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit of shame. While Mich showed his gratitude toward Lucian, Asher, who also owed Lucian for saving his own life, was contemplating abandoning him.
“My word is my bond,” Asher sighed again and began to follow along, trudging through the shallow water, Lucian atop his shoulders. “Put the bug away. I was just stopping to think. That’s all.”
Mich scoffed at the Corp Anointed but nonetheless made the bug shrink back into a pill bug-sized body, then placed it back into his pocket.
Through narrow paths and dark alleys, they walked until they reached a residential area that seemed to have been carpet-bombed. Monsters crept in the darkness around them, wary of revealing themselves for fear of being eaten by one of their own kind. The street was torn apart from explosions during the Monster Invasion. Some buildings lay in rubble, while others were ripped open either by monsters or man-made weapons.
Mich led Asher into a two-story red brick home, crossing a living room littered with burned items like a TV and a couch still standing. Then, they entered a kitchen with ripped vinyl flooring and an open refrigerator filled with some kind of black substance.
The old Wastelander opened a section of the floor to reveal a trapdoor, surprising Asher. Inside, they descended a flight of stairs, Mich's flashlight lighting their way.
Asher soon found himself led to an armored door, words painted on it reading, “Apocalypse Bunker.” It appeared the previous owners of this house had been paranoid “preppers” who foresaw the end of the world. Inside, the same group of Wastelanders from the park appeared, along with stores of supplies and other goods. There was even a living area, along with cots lined against the wall.
“Come on,” Mich prompted the Corp Anointed. “Bring that guy over to the table. There’s stuff here to put the hero—I mean, Lord Anointed, back together again.”
There awaited a table, nearly collapsing, yet somehow holding steady under Lucian’s weight when Asher placed him upon it. Thread and needle were produced from a first aid kit stacked among other medical items, and Mich began to stitch up what he could on Lucian, his [Immature Slime] helping to keep wounds closed and absorb possible infection into its translucent body before visibly dissolving what it had absorbed.
Asher’s dark eyes narrowed at the other Wastelanders surrounding the table, unsure of their intentions, but his wariness was misplaced. What appeared on their sunbaked faces was gratitude for the hero who had saved them. Some went into prayer for Lucian’s recovery.
Wendy was there, her tanned face tired as she reached out to Asher. With a warm smile, she began, “Thank you both for saving us—”
“Don’t touch me,” Asher scoffed, backing away from her hand. He eyed her and the others with disdain. “I didn’t fight for you.” He gestured toward the unconscious Lucian covered in slime. “I just owe this idiot a favor. That’s all.”
The Wastelanders stepped away to give him space, wary of him as an Anointed.
“That’s right,” Asher continued, locking eyes with each of them in turn, their faces crusted with dirt. “Keep your distance. There is nothing I find more disgusting than you dust eaters.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ash,” Lucian croaked.
Asher spun around to see the glimmer of a single eye from Lucian watching him. “Crow…”
Lucian then blacked out. His awareness had only been temporary.
Asher scoffed again and went to lean against the wall. As soon as Lucian was saved, he would leave. While he waited, he retrieved his phone from his pocket to read an email. It read, “Thank you for considering joining our team! Unfortunately, we will not be moving forward with your application at this time. We are currently not in need of any more support-type Anointed as of now. If you have any questions, feel free to call…”
Asher scowled and put the phone away. He’d show them. He’d show them all what he was truly capable of.
A whisper came from between the shelves of supplies near him. “There’s only enough food here for a week or two…”
Two older women, wrapped in layers of cloth to protect them from the Wasteland’s dust storms, were taking inventory of the bunker’s useful items. Their weathered faces reflected years of survival in harsh conditions.
The other woman responded, “There are just too many of us…”
“Perhaps we should split up to see if there are other bunkers like this one?”
“And leave the protection of two Anointed? We might as well just go ahead and feed ourselves to the monsters.” The woman then shook her dirt-crusted head.
Asher sneered in their direction. Such parasites leaching off the strong without a hint of shame. The sooner he was gone from here, the better.
The rain picked up, and a raging storm formed, striking out against the world with wind and rolling thunder. But the turbulent weather couldn’t compare to the distant howls of the monster wave that promised the destruction of everything in its path.