Kyto had travelled for over two hours towards the industrial area. The rain had started not long after he had set off as soon as the clouds had reached the plain as he had predicted. The wind was picking up, whipping through the trees, howling with branches creaking under the strain. He was soaked through to the bone. Not one inch of his body remained dry, his boots squelched every step, and he wished he still had his waterproof. He loved listening to the wind and rain when under shelter and dry, but being caught in it was entirely different. The sky above looked mean and dark like all colours had been drained from the world. He heard thunder in the distance and knew that lightning would soon follow. He was never happy being outside in a thunderstorm, so he began to pick up the pace, heading towards the industrial area. He could always find somewhere to hole up until it passed if it became that bad.
An hour later, he was approaching the outskirts of the industrial area, and he noticed smoke in the distance. It wasn't visible from afar due to the colour of the skies, but a fire or something was burning ahead. He traipsed through the final couple of fields, climbing over a broken wall and pushing through an old, dilapidated fence heading straight towards the site. It wasn't until he was closer that he could see the reason for the smoke. What had looked like an abandoned industrial area was in use. There was a pillar of thick black smoke billowing out of a large metal pipe chimney, and even above the storm's sound, he could hear a thudding metallic sound.
He entered the industrial area surrounded by high brick and metal structured buildings and lost sight of the chimney behind several warehouses and what may have been offices in a previous life. Doors stood open, windows broken, and plants grew everywhere. Anything that had been left alone had gradually been reclaimed by nature, and he made his way cautiously towards the thudding sound. As he approached an intersection between two large warehouses, he glanced left and saw what looked like an old row of three-storey townhouses with high steps leading to their front porches. Lights were on in the first one. In front of it stood a large open yard and a factory. The pounding sound had gradually been getting louder, and it was now clearly audible with a monotonous thud, thud, thud, over the distant thunderclaps and the torrential rain hammering the earth. There was industrial work of some form being completed inside.
He decided he would find out what was going on at the townhouse, it was daytime, and for there to be lights on it had to be important. So he went down an alleyway that ran parallel to the site. On reaching the end, he could see the townhouses clearly and that only the one with lights on appeared occupied. Across from the factory entrance, was a large sign 'Montgomery Metals'. There were several vehicles parked in front, and these were not your average run-of-the-mill vehicles either. They looked in pristine condition and as though freshly painted. Whoever was based here must be rich, as vehicle ownership was limited even more than lighting.
As he monitored the area, an old gentleman with silver hair walked out of the main entrance, followed by a man holding a plastic sheet cover above the silver-haired man's head.
"John, while I am away, you had better make sure that those bastards don't slow production, or it will be your neck getting a collar." He shouted to be heard over the storm to the large, obese-looking man holding the cover. The silver-haired man made his way down the steps of the townhouse towards the nearest vehicle, and the man followed as he tried to keep as much of the rain off him as he could. The silver-haired man climbed inside, and then another three men joined the man with silver hair and climbed into the seats of two other vehicles.
Kyto watched as they started up the engines, and the deep guttural sound of their engines growled to life. Vehicles were not quiet, and he had always been aware of any in an area as they all made similar sounds. The vehicles started pulling away from the house, heading towards the local township.
He observed the brutish man as he watched the vehicles move off, and once they had gone, he turned and walked over to the factory gates. Kyto needed to search the area, but he needed to ensure it was safe before he could. He slowly moved back into the alley, sheltering against an arched doorway where he could watch and monitor their activities.
∆∆∆
John watched the boss's car recede into the distance. 'At last,' he thought, at least he would have a couple of days of peace without him nagging constantly. Production had increased significantly recently as the boss had received a large order from one of the regional factions. It was not local either, which meant it had to be worth the stacks, for the cost of transporting the finished goods alone would be astronomical. Over the past three months, they had almost doubled their slave needs. He didn't care about the number of slaves they had, apart from the fact that there was nearly always one who screwed up and caused trouble when new batches came.
He left the house and made his way back onto the site. The site was surrounded by a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence with razor wire at its top. You would think it was very security conscious when looking from the outside, but it had nothing to do with what might get in but who might try and get out. As John walked across the yard stomping through the muddy puddles towards the workshop, he heard a scream, "Shit, what now" he called out to a man standing by the workshop door.
"One of the new ones didn't move his hand out of the way fast enough at the pounder," he replied.
"Damn it, that means we are a man down, and that will impact today's figures."
"We can always grab one from the furnace area. They can shovel faster."
"Yeah, go on, go and grab one of them." John continued into the workshop area. Inside were six giant pounders, that's what they were nicknamed at least. The slaves brought the molten metal directly from the furnace rooms and placed them into the pounders, where another slave would then manipulate the hot metal until it was thin enough for cutting and shaping. The problem was the pounders were steam-fed since the old, electrically powered machinery had never worked since the Falling. As a result, everything had to be manipulated by hand, and while steam fed from the furnace, they continually pounded away. It was amazing how numbed you got to the sound they made after a while. Due to manually feeding and manipulating the metal sheets, if some unfortunate fool put their hand in the wrong place as the pounder came down, you can imagine what would happen.
The injured slave was lying prone on the floor where he had been dragged to one side. He whimpered and moaned in pain, holding his arm, but no one was paying him any attention nor trying to provide him with medical support. He could see the mangled stump of his arm where a hand had once been and the smashed bone fragments protruding from the wound. A large pool of blood had started to form by the victim's side where he lay, and John knew he did not have long left. Looking at him, he recognized him from last night's batch. 'That might be a new record for the shortest-serving time', he thought.
"Oi Kristoff, go and see where Jim got to, will you? Every minute someone isn't feeding, we are running behind, and you know what the boss is like if we miss targets." The man he had shouted at scurried off towards the furnace room.
He returned two minutes later with Jim and a young woman in tow. "Get on the pounder now," he called to her. He knew her quite well, not to talk to in any way but in general for the time she had been there. It must be four/five years by now, he thought. She was also good-looking compared to a lot of them. The tattered rags she did have didn't leave much to the imagination, and she had a very tight figure underneath the grime and dirt. He had thought about taking her on more than one occasion, but that was one thing the boss would not stand for.
He stood ogling her for a few minutes before heading to the cutting shop. At least the way she worked, they may get back on track.
∆∆∆
Due to the unfortunate accident that had happened to the new guy, she hadn't even had a chance to find out his name. Tabs had been pulled off the furnace. 'Thank fuck', she thought as she followed the guard through to the pounders. The head driver was there. He was a revolting man, grossly obese, and always looked like he had just finished spilling his dinner down his top. She wasn't sure how he managed to walk, then again to be honest it was more of a waddle thinking about it. He always leered at her, and it made her feel even dirtier than she was. She saw the man lying on the floor that she was there to replace. He may as well have been a piece of discarded trash; he was not moving, and the body was just pulled to one side and left there lying in a pool of his blood. The white tips of the protruding bones seemed to shine in the dim light of the pounder hall, and Tabs shuddered involuntarily. Eventually, someone would come along and move him, normally through to the furnace to be discarded as fuel. The drivers had no care for the lives of slaves.
Another slave came through from the furnace room carrying a large crucible containing molten metal. He dropped it onto the pounder plate, and she started to grab at it with metal tongues and began stretching it out. Once it was semi-flat, she then skilfully started to twist and manipulate the metal under the pounder. This was her favourite out of all the jobs as she nimbly spun the metal until it started to look more like a sheet as it got pressed thinner and thinner. Eventually, once it was a few millimetres thick, she pushed the sheet dexterously through the machine to roll onto the roller bed, where another slave would then take it through to the cutting shop.
She much preferred being at the pounder end as you were always busy, you had to just stand on a spot at the far end and wait for one of the three pounders you were responsible for to have a sheet-fed through before you could move. Since each sheet took about 20 minutes to get to the right thickness, it was a boring task, and if you moved off the mark, you normally got a whip across your back. She had only done that once when she first started. The whip had left a scar that ran from her upper left shoulder blade to the middle of her back, where it had connected and split her skin open. She had screamed in agony and, from that day forth, swore she would never make the same mistake again.
She was transfixed by her task and always zoned out when an almighty crash and sparks flew off the pounder next to her. The woman who had been operating it, Betty, suddenly flew 20 feet through the air and crashed heavily onto the floor with what looked like smoke coming off her body and rags. She heard a nearby guard yell and saw him looking up in wide-eyed terror as two large sheets of metal roofing and a supporting beam came crashing down. He tried to move out of the way but was too slow; the metal beam caught him on his right-hand side. His right shoulder was obliterated in a cloud of red as it tore through that side of his body as if he had been sliced in half. It embedded itself vertically into the floor, and the pulverized remains of the guard fell at its base.
Tabs looked up and saw the open sky. There was a bright flash, and she closed her eyes.
She had been indoors since before first light, and they rarely saw the sky during daylight, so they had no idea what the weather was like outside, as they could not hear anything above the sound the pounders made. She opened her eyes and blinked them several times, trying to remove the white flashes that seemed to float across her vision. She looked up at the sky through the gaping hole in the roof and could see one hell of a storm in play. It must have been lightning that had struck the pounder and caused the explosion and sent Betty flying across the room. As she stared at the sky, she noticed another roof section starting to give way. "Quick!" she yelled, trying to be heard above the sound of the pounders, which kept banging in their usual monotone rhythm, "move out of the way." Thankfully, most people realized what was happening and started running from the central area. She watched as the next support beam creaked under the weight of the metal roofing sheets, cracked, and plummeted to the ground, followed by another section of the roof. Huge clouds of dust billowed up from where they landed.
Guards from the other areas on the site were starting to come and see what had caused the commotion. The roof was coming down one way or another, and looking at how it had begun, she could see a ripple effect. As one section broke free, the strain on the connected end increased until that gave way. She wouldn't hang around here and turned, running for the exit. The head guard had come puffing back through from the cutting room and started yelling at guards to clear the slaves out of the area.
"Everyone gets the fuck out of here now," he screamed.
Tabs decided it was now or never. If there was ever an opportunity to try and escape, it was now! As she exited the building, rather than heading straight into the yard area, she turned immediately left and sprinted down the side of the factory, sloshing and slipping through the muddy yard. Lightning was ripping through the clouds above, and the storm was in its full glory. The rain lashed down, bouncing back up off the earth. Her rags gave her no protection from the rain, and she felt every drop that hit her, and its sting was violent. She reached the end of the building and quickly crossed a short opening to a small brick building where she knew they stored supplies and ducked around the side of it. She came to a sudden halt in front of the chain link fence before jumping onto it and beginning to climb.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
∆∆∆
Kyto had watched as the lightning struck the factory roof. The flash was so intense he shielded his eyes from it. He looked back and saw that part of the roof had started to give way. He watched in awe as one section of the roof and then another began to crumble into the interior of the building. It wasn’t long before people started sprinting out from any exit they could find. It was then he noticed the problem. Apart from about twenty guards, the remainder were in rags, and he could see they had slave collars around their necks. Many looked emaciated and drawn. His anger flared at the sight. Kyto hated slavers, they were the lowest form of scum, and he even believed them slightly worse than raiders. From the various stories he had heard on his travels with raiders, you knew where you stood most of the time: slavers were different and were always thinking up the next evil, sick, and twisted punishment.
As the next flash of lightning lit the sky, he noticed a small shape flitting towards the far side of the compound; he thought it was female but could not see clearly from this distance. He watched keenly as they went around the side of a shed in the far eastern corner. He could hear the guards bellowing at the slaves, trying to be heard over the crashes of thunder, howling wind, and collapsing structures, yelling at them to get in line. He had mixed feelings about what to do, but his urge to help took over from his urge to stay hidden. He dropped back into the alley and made his way quickly around the side of the compound.
As he got to the eastern edge, he could see a woman climbing the chain-link fence. She was three-quarters of the way up it, and Kyto could see the evil razor wire across the top, which would prevent her from getting over without being torn to shreds in the attempt. Kyto sprinted out from the alley and ran straight towards the fence.
“Hey, wait a second.” He called.
The woman looked at him with sheer terror in her eyes, yet her face was set with steel and determination. Kyto quickly dropped to his knee, dragged a blanket from his backpack and hurled it up to the top of the chain-link fence. The blanket just made it onto the razor wire, and he shouted for the woman to use it to climb over. She reached the top of the fence and dragged the blanket towards her. It tore as it was caught on the wire but covered enough for her to make her way over the top precariously. She dropped the twelve feet to the ground as soon as she was over. She landed, letting out a cry of pain. She tried to stand up, but her ankle immediately gave way under her weight. Kyto knew she would not make it alone and quickly threw his arm around her, helping her to her feet.
“We best get moving,” He said.
“Thank you,” came a pained response.
Kyto guided the woman back towards the alleyway, and then, moving as quickly as they could, they headed away from the factory. The factory was in the middle of the industrial site, and they hobbled between the dilapidated buildings, working their way to the edge of the site. They eventually reached the outer edge, and Kyto knew there was a wooded area ahead of him in one of the fields from his journey to the site.
“Let’s go over there for now. There are some trees where we can at least get a little shelter from this storm, and you can rest up a while.”
The woman just nodded in agreement, wincing with every step she took. She had not once cried out in pain as they had moved away.
They stumbled slowly across the slick, uneven ground and reached the wood. It didn’t give brilliant shelter from the wind and rain that whipped through the boughs of the trees, but it was better than being in the open. As they moved further, Kyto noticed a small ditch where a brook might once have run, dragged her over to it, and helped her climb down. They placed their backs against the ditch wall so the worst wind and rain were going straight over them.
The woman held her ankle gingerly, panting from the exertion. Kyto looked at her appraisingly. She was of a slight and very skinny build; her cheeks looked sunken, and he knew this was due to starvation. She wore tattered and torn clothes, and he noticed she had nothing on her feet for the first time. Around her head, she had what looked like a towel wrapped and tied in a knot at the back. Around her neck was a thick metal collar, the tell-tale sign of a slave. Her body was covered in grime and what appeared to be soot. Pink streaky trails covered her face where the lashing rain had cleaned some of the grime away, but it still hadn’t been enough to clean her. Her hands looked calloused and split, and her feet must have hurt. They had been walking through mud over twigs, branches, and stones, but she had never complained about them. It was obvious that whatever she had been doing was hard physical labour. She had proven herself agile and strong, scaling the fence the way she had, and Kyto was impressed with her determination while moving away from the site, although she saw that she must be in excruciating pain. He looked down where she held her ankle, and it had swollen.
“Let’s weather the storm here for now,” Kyto stated. “I don’t think they will have search parties out just yet, not with what they will have to deal with back there. They may even think you were trapped inside under the rubble.”
She looked at him and nodded in agreement, grateful to be still for a while. She tore a strip of cloth from her dishevelled top and wrapped it around her ankle the best she could. Kyto reached over to help, and she pulled away. “Sorry, I was only going to help.” She reluctantly allowed him to help strap her ankle and sat back again against the ditch wall.
“I am Kyto, by the way.”
“Tabs,” she replied, “thank you for the blanket. I wasn’t sure what state I would have been in otherwise.”
Kyto considered asking her questions about where she was from and what got her there but decided that this wasn’t the most appropriate time. “I have a place a few miles from here if you think you can. It’s no palace, but it is dry and warmer than being out here.”
She looked at him with an uncertain expression. Initially, he thought she would say no, but she eventually replied, “Yeah, that would be good. I just hope I can make it with my ankle.”
Tab’s retina had burst into colour as she had landed from the fence, and a warning message had appeared on her display. She had ignored it initially and now read it.
Warning – you have seriously damaged your left ankle. Without rest and medical aid, you may cause permanent damage.
Her left ankle was showing as a dark red. She knew immediately when she had landed that she had caused serious damage without the display telling her, but she was not going to give in to the pain. She had been through worse, remembering the beatings and battering she had received over the years. This was just a minor discomfort in comparison. As she had attempted to put her weight onto it, though, it had given way, and another warning flash had appeared on her display, indicating that it was causing further damage. At this the man had grabbed her, her initial reaction had been to push him away, but she had to resign to the fact she would not make it alone. Sitting in the ditch in the woods, she could not believe that she had made it away from the site.
They sat silently for a while as the worst storm passed overhead. When the wind and rain eased, Kyto said it was time to move. The woman gingerly got up and tried to take a few paces. There was no way she was making it unsupported, so Kyto put his arm around her and helped her along.
It took them much longer to get back than Kyto had hoped, but with her injury and their slow pace to avoid any of the roads, they reached the old farmhouse by the late afternoon. The rain still hadn’t ceased, but at least now it was just a heavy shower compared to the unforgiving storm lash of earlier. The sky was still dark and overcast, and there was still the occasional clap of thunder in the distance. Kyto took her around to the back of the building and propped her against the wall by the door. “I will be back in one minute”, he said. He then scaled the wall and climbed in through the window, made his way downstairs and unblocked the doorway at the rear of the property to let her in. As soon as she was inside, he told her to head upstairs while he reset the barricade.
Once he was happy that the doorway was secure again, he went to the first floor and found the woman curled up in the corner of the main room. She looked as if she was already asleep. ‘She must be exhausted’, he thought. He looked at her thoughtfully and pulled his remaining blanket from his backpack. Walking over to her, he lowered it, covering her as best as possible. She mumbled in her sleep, and he heard the word crystal. He backed away to his mattress, watching the blanket rise and fall as she breathed deeply and let out an occasional moan. He removed his sodden clothes and boots, hanging them over some rope he had set up across the landing area. He walked into the other room, bringing back one of the old drapes from the curtains, and tore off some strips, stuffing them into his boots to help dry them. He then took out some fresh well. Fresh wasn’t exactly the right word for his clothes, but at least dry clothes and pulled them on. He thought about lighting a fire in the hearth but thought better of it under the circumstances and hoped that his boots would dry out overnight.
‘What should I do now?’ Kyto thought to himself. He had never been one for having people near him, and he could not remember the last time he had ever had someone sleep in the same room or area as him. He settled back on the mattress, looking out of the window towards the distant mountains. The odd ray of light that had managed to break through the cloud-covered sky was starting to fade, and as the evening drew in, he lit a small wax candle that he had placed by the fireplace. The flame gave off a soft glow, and he took out one of his recently found books and started to read. It was not long before he drifted off to sleep.
∆∆∆
“Get lined up you worthless pieces of shit” one of the guards screamed at the slaves now that the roof had stopped falling in.
John’s anger had reached a boiling point, and he could feel his blood throbbing in his temples. He could not believe that the factory had been damaged so badly. All around him, guards and slaves alike were coughing from the amount of acrid smoke and dust spewing from the pounder hall's remains. Even the torrential rain hadn’t managed to subdue the dust clouds. It swirled thickly in the air, clinging to every surface or person it touched, leaving a grey layer of grime. Over three-quarters of the roof, by the looks of it, had collapsed inwards. “Shit,” he said. ‘This will take ages to sort out, never mind what the boss’s reaction would be on his return.’ He thought.
John removed his cudgel from his belt and casually walked up to the nearest slave. The slave turned and faced him. “Yes, boss?’ the slave said. John then hit them as hard as he could across the face. John’s display flashed in front of his eyes.
Surprise attack +25% damage awarded.
He ignored the display, discarding the message. The man let out a loud cry as his head flashed sideways from the force of the strike, and he collapsed onto the floor, groaning, holding the side of his face where a large gash had opened across his cheek. John pulled his booted foot back and kicked him as hard as he could in the stomach. He heard the gush of air being forced from the man’s lungs as he curled into the fetal position. John then stamped down on his side, making him open his body back up before kicking him once more in the stomach. He then continued to kick the man anywhere on his body he could until eventually getting to his head. His foot struck the man’s forehead, and his head was thrown back with such force that he was not sure if he had snapped his neck or not. His display was continually firing messages at him as he lashed out at the poor innocent slave who had taken his wrath. His display flashed,
Critical Hit +50% damage awarded.
He ignored the display again and was not sure if he had just killed the man or if he had just been knocked unconscious as he stopped making a sound, he did not care though he was still boiling over with rage, he continued to kick the slave in his face. His next strike made the slave's nose explode in a pool of crimson and cartilage and then again, this time connecting with the man’s eye socket. He watched as it crumpled inwards, and he could see the white bone of the eye socket where it had been fractured. He continued kicking the slave in the face until there was no longer a recognisable feature, and it was turned into a bloody, mangled pulp. He was pretty sure he had been dead for a while now, and he started to feel a sense of relief, and his anger began to subside. Several of the slaves nearby had started sobbing at the sheer violence and ferocity of the spectacle, and he screamed angrily at them to “Shut the fuck up, or you will be fucking next.”
Congratulations your Torture skill has levelled, it is now at 10 and you may pick one specialisation.
John was reviewing the message when one of the other guards walked over to him nervously, asking, “Boss, what do you want us to do?”
John spun, staring at the guard who stepped backwards involuntarily from the look in John’s eyes and then turned, looking at the carnage left behind him and the wreckage of the building. “We better start sorting this shit storm out. Get these lazy bastards to start clearing the debris and see what we have left to work with.” He replied. “And what’s the count?” he snapped.
“Sixty-three, Boss,” one of the guards called over. That meant they were six slaves down, well actually seven, considering the lump of beaten meat at his feet. “Oh, and Davison, Carmichael and Johnson are also missing”.
‘Shit’, he thought this was even worse. Three guards missing, he didn’t give a fuck about Davison or Johnson, but he was as close as to what you would class as a friend with Carmichael. They had been young raiders together when they had started, and both moved over to the slaver business when their raider group separated. Carmichael had stayed with him as a loyal friend if there was anything such as loyalty in the business in which they worked.
He had under two days to try and get some semblance of order before the Boss returned, ‘This is going to be a nightmare,’ he thought. “I want any bodies recovered put in the cutting room for now.” He said to the closest guard. John casually rubbed the toe of his boot against the rags on the body of the slave at his feet, wiping the worst of the blood off before turning and walking across the compound to the guard’s dorm and his office, where he had his stash of nectar, he needed a drink. The rain was still lashing down, and he was soaked even through his thick overcoat.
He walked into the office and dropped heavily into a chair, opening the cabinet that stood by the desk, he withdrew a bottle of nectar popping the lid. He pulled up his display and reviewed the message again, looking at his skill tree and the torture branch. The specialisms included various sub-branches and differing methods of torture. The one that he liked the look of the most was
Mutilation – allows the torturer to be able to mutilate a victim while keeping them alive slowly. The length of time a victim will survive will improve as you gain further levels in the skill, increasing the chance they will give up all their secrets.
John took no time at all to select the specialism, and his display flared again.
Congratulations, Mutilation level 1 has been learned.
A short while later, he looked out at the pounder hall as he finished his sixth bottle; he was quite impressed with how the slaves worked. ‘It may be close but if they keep going the site may be back to working order before the boss returns’ he thought. He looked down at his blood-soaked boots and noticed that his trousers were also covered in the remains of the slave's face. He got up and walked into his sleeping quarter off the side of the office, where he changed his boots and pulled on some fresh clothes. The nectar had done its job and stilled his temper for now, and he felt a warm sensation trickle throughout his body as he relaxed. ‘One more bottle’ he thought as he popped the top off another nectar, lying back in his chair again and taking a deep swig.