6.

Game Over …or Continue?

Hadrian Hero watched the leader of the Bunker refugees methodically lift, and lower a ten-pound hand weight. She had been at it for two sets already, soon to switch to the other hand. Dura Jones was forty-five years old, she looked thirty.

No matter her appearance, the woman had lived through hard times. As a child, she watched helplessly as her family succumbed to the sickness one by one. That her home was in the epicenter of the future Necropolis was no small issue. She never had a chance to live outside, in the New World, even though she knew it was there.

Hadrian knew none of this. People born before the sickness were silent about the Old World; they had to be for their own safety. Any topic besides the history of Necropolis was taboo. Dura was still ingrained with the habit of denying that she ever had a life before being a Charge.

“Physical fitness is key, Hero. If we want to accomplish everything that we’ve talked about, we need to make sure that the people here stay healthy.”

The teenager nodded. “Perhaps if we let them outside …in small groups of course, so that they can exercise. They feel claustrophobic.”

Dura chuckled lightly. “If you want to organize that, be my guest,” she said with a doubting tone.

Biting his lip, Hadrian counted to ten. It angered him that a Charge would dare speak to him in such a way, but he knew that this feeling was an expired luxury. He could no longer divide people along the lines of Provider and Charge.

He remained stalk still, standing before Dura in her office. This was a common occurrence. Somehow, despite their dislike for each other, the two refugees had set up a stable alliance. Dura was a better leader, but Hadrian could speak to the former Providers without offending their sensibilities. They held a meeting every week to bring together Dura’s ideas, and Hadrian’s feedback.

“And what about Reg Kearny? When will he be active?”

Their plan had been simple. Dura was tired. She had spent almost two decades organizing a revolution, and raising a son. She wanted someone else to take the reigns. Hadrian convinced her that Reg Kearny was exactly what she was looking for.

He had been on the fast track to the Council of Necropolis, the ruling faction in the city. At the age of sixteen, Reg had already garnered favor among the elders, and built alliances with several of his more powerful peers. People genuinely liked him, and he would have been awarded his first Charge at his seventeenth birthday.

This, plus the fact that he was young, reassured Dura that the revolution would have enough energy to last long after her flame had been extinguished.

However, Reg’s fall from grace had been severe, and unforeseen. Hadrian nearly failed in getting his Housemate out of the city …in fact, if it had not been for the skeleton Charlie that Reg was dragging around with him, the raiders probably would have killed him. Hadrian knew it was finally time to let go of his secret.

“Dura, there is something I need to tell you about Reg.”

The stately woman glanced up at Hero’s unusually cautious tone. “Yes?”

“Before he was taken out of Necropolis …he did something rather stupid.” Hadrian’s shrewd eyes observed Dura, trying to find any sense of doubt or anger. He knew that his position in the Bunker was always on a slippery slope. If the leader decided he was untrustworthy, than he would be ousted.

“Hadrian, you told me he was much loved. What could such a loyal citizen have done to be labeled ‘rather stupid’?”

The teenager sighed. “He may have …attacked the head councilman’s son.”

Dura was silent for a moment, and than started laughing. “Is that all? That actually makes me feel better.” She set down the hand-weight, and walked over to Hadrian. Brushing a strand of his hair away from his eyes, she said, “You are much too young to be caught up in political intrigue.”

This was not the first time she had mentioned his age, in a wistful manner. No doubt she kept her own son out of the grand scheming so that she could protect him, but Hadrian knew that he himself did not warrant such motherly love. That was fine, no one raised in Necropolis even knew what a mother was. Just because he found out, did not mean that he needed one.

However, she was missing the point. “He didn’t just attack this kid, Dura. There was no provocation, he just leapt out of his chair and started pounding on the guy.”

Dura shrugged, “So he’s a little violent. That will probably be needed.” She circled back to her desk and sat down. “I want to meet him.”

Hadrian nodded. “I’ll let him know.”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

A finger was definitely tracing down his spine. He had not been sure at first, thinking it was a dream. But no, this was, without a doubt, reality. Someone was brushing their hand along his back.

That someone was Reg. ‘Who else would it be?’ Charlie thought to himself, ‘No one else slept in this bed.”

“Are you awake, Charlie?”

Reg’s voice was soft, and cautious. Like a child’s.

Charlie did not respond. He was lying to on his side, his back facing the other teenager. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Reg would leave. He breathed slowly, keeping his eyes screwed tightly shut. Without warning, the pressure from Reg’s hand increased as he suddenly dug his fingernails into Charlie’s pale skin.

“Fuck!” Charlie hissed, as he sprung out of the bed, his bleach blonde hair falling into disarray around his eyes. He swung around to face Reg, who was already on the other side of the bed, standing with his broad, mocha-colored back towards Charlie. “What the fuck was that?” Charlie breathed, stretching his arm around to his back to feel if it was bleeding.

“I was waking you up,” Reg replied, his voice cold now. He turned around to face Charlie, “Was it too painful?”

The blonde teenager gaped at Reg’s emotionless face; his gold-brown eyes were completely flat, calm.

‘Shit.’ Charlie thought to himself, as his ignored Reg and started pulling on his clothes. It was warm enough in the Bunker to go without his jacket, but he slung it on anyway. Who knew when he would have to make another run for it?

Reg seemed unaffected by Charlie’s silence as he too started dressing. As he pulled on his red converse, he simply sat facing away from the blonde. Charlie watched as he mechanically laced each shoe, then grabbed Charlie’s Aviators from the bed stand, and hooked them onto the collar of his dirty white shirt.

“Hadrian will give us new clothes,” he said gruffly, turning back to Charlie.

Shrugging, Charlie looked away as he sat and slipped on his own shoes. He barely had time to tie one set of laces when he suddenly felt Reg grip on to his hair, and jerk his head up, so that they were looking straight at each other.

“Don’t ignore me, ever.” Reg hissed, his eyes dark now.

Charlie felt his rebellious streak rising up again as Reg glowered at him. He wanted to punch the arrogant prick in the stomach. He counted to ten.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his teeth locked together, his blue eyes alit with anger.

Reg’s face once again reverted to calm, he loosened his grip on Charlie’s hair, and then finally patted the top of the blonde’s head amiably before backing away, mumbling, “He’s learning, he’s learning,” as he went.

Charlie’s heart was thundering. He could barely keep himself from trembling as he watched Reg revert back to getting ready, brushing his hair. It was almost as if the violent incident that just occurred had never happened.

That is when he noticed Hadrian standing in the doorway of their room. How much had he seen? Charlie stared openly at him, his mouth agape. The shorter teenager was smiling ruefully as he returned Charlie’s gaze. His expression clearly said that he had witnessed the whole event.

“Reg, morning!” he said suddenly, never taking his eyes off of Charlie. Reg turned around, and smiled slightly. “Hadrian… what’s going on?”

Hadrian brushed his hand through his sleek, black hair and sighed. “The holiday is over friend, Dura wants to talk with you.”

Reg nodded, his face serious. “Is she ready to relinquish control?”

The shorter teenager paused. “Ah, well, of course she is delighted to have a high ranking Provider here, but …she has been building this revolution for years. She doesn’t know if she can trust you.”

Charlie listened to all of this curiously, as fear started to seep into his stomach. He did not sign up for a revolution. And what was this about Reg taking control? Who was Dura?

Suddenly, Reg turned to him. “Charlie, leave.”

The blonde blanched, “Wha- what?”

Frowning, Reg repeated himself, “Go get breakfast or something. I don’t want you here.”

Hadrian was trying not to smile. The skeleton had been causing him worry, but obviously Reg did not care too much for him. If that had been the case …he would have had to take action.

Standing up without another word, Charlie walked quickly to the door and stepped out into the hallway. As he heard the lock click shut behind him, he suddenly felt very lost. He knew where the lobby was, and that was a start. Mustering together all of his nerves, he slowly treaded back to the glamorous room that had so shocked him the night before.

There he found no one but the man who held reign over the reception desk. He was wearing a bellboy outfit, and stood passively, staring into space. As before, Charlie could here the clinking of silverware from what he guessed was the dining hall.

“How many people live here?” he asked as he walked up to the clerk.

“Exactly 552.”

Charlie’s mouth dropped. “That’s hell of a lot of people,” he said, “Do you know them all?”

The clerk’s face was blank. “Of course, it’s my job.” He suddenly pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a form, and clicked his pen against the desk. “However, I do not have you on record. What is your name?”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose with surprise. “You need my name? I thought I was a non-person or whatever …a Charge.”

The man did not respond, but rather stood there waiting, his pen poised.

Christ, was he robot? Why was everyone from Necropolis so verbally challenged? Charlie brought up his hand, snapping his fingers loudly in front of the man’s face. “Hello! What if I don’t want to tell you my name?”

Still no response.

“Fine. My name is Charlie Harlin.”

The clerk’s eyes flashed. “There is no point in lying to me.”

Charlie shrugged, “Take it or leave it asshole, it’s my name.”

“No House employs the surname Harlin.”

The blonde stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “That’s right, I employ the fucking surname Harlin.”

“There is no need to be angry at the clerk, Mr. Harlin.”

Charlie stiffened at this new voice, a woman’s voice. It was full of authority and calm. Turning around, he came face to face with Dura Jones, her full lips tilted up into a friendly smile. She was wearing a purple cotton dress that reached down to her knees, her feet were bare.

The blonde had never seen a fully nourished woman before, let alone one who spent so much time looking after her physical health. Her curves were shocking.

“You see,” she said with a velveteen voice, “He has to keep a record of everyone here so that we know we are safe from spies.” She walked forward and wrapped a gentle arm around Charlie’s bony shoulders. “Tell me Charlie, where is your Provider?”

“Fuck if I care,” Charlie spat, completely thrown by the woman’s touch. She smelled like vanilla, and her eyes reminded him of his mother.

She chuckled. “You are rather crass child, although I suppose that could be a result of growing up in the New World.” She turned to face him, and straightened out his jacket. “Why so much anger at Reg Kearny?” she asked lightly.

Charlie did not know if it was her similarity to his own mother, or just her gentle voice, but suddenly the floodgates were opened. He just had to start bawling in front of the prick lobby clerk. He let out the whole story in almost an unintelligible rush.

“I just wanted to see my mom’s town, and then these crazy guys showed up, and Reg saved me …or I saved him. He seemed like he hated me, or liked me, I don’t know! I tried to leave, but then a nosher got me, and Reg saved me again. But he tried to shoot me once! I can’t seem to win…”

Dura was silent after the blonde teenager’s emotional rant. “When you first met him …he seemed …smart?”

Charlie nodded, “And resourceful, and I felt like we could help each other. But then he started acting all…”

The woman smiled. “Crazy?”

Charlie hiccupped once, but remained silent. If Reg found out that he had called him crazy… he would be dead meat. “I don’t know if I would go that far.”

“Don’t worry Charlie, this conversation I between you, me, and him..” she said, pointing at the clerk. Charlie glanced at the man behind the desk dubiously, and then lowered his voice.

“Do I really have to be …attached to Reg?” he asked, training his eyes on the rich carpet of the floor.

“You agreed to be his Charge?”

Charlie nodded.

“Then I’m afraid that’s your lot in life, Mr. Harlin. Necropolisians take their laws very seriously. Especially a higher order Provider like Reg. I think it would be wise to just accept that.”

The blonde could not believe what he was hearing. Weren’t the people here in the Bunker trying to change those laws? It would suffice to say that he was rather confused. Plus, Dura had sounded so reassuring before, now she was casting him off.

“I need you to do me a favor Charlie,” the woman said suddenly, smiling at Charlie’s hurt face, “I need you to find my son, Vespasian, and tell him that I want him to meet Reg as well. You should be able to find him in the dining hall.”

Nodding, Charlie smiled at her seemingly kind eyes. Her softness, not to mention her scent of vanilla was intoxicating. “What does he look like?”

This warranted a laugh from Dura. “He’s the only teenager in there, believe me, you’ll find him.” She gave Charlie a little push towards the dining hall, and watched as the skinny youth trudged away, his hands still shoved into his jacket pockets.

Hero had not been too anxious when he warned her about this skeleton, Dura thought. The kid knew nothing about Necropolis; in fact he was half wild, barely civilized. But his last name, she had heard it before.

She looked over at the clerk, and said, “In twenty minutes, call Mr. Harlin and Vespasian out of the dining hall, please?”

The man nodded. Smiling, Dura thanked him and headed towards the room that had been assigned to Reg Kearny. Outside, she could hear voices emanating through the door. Hadrian was inside, of course.

“Reg, is it really safe to have a Charge right now?”

There was Hero, with his whining tone. Dura found jealousy to be the most reprehensible of emotions, but she was starting to wonder if that was the only reason Hadrian protested Charlie so much.

“It is my birth right to have a Charge, and what better than one born outside of Necropolis?”

Dura heard Hadrian sigh. “Fine, I guess there are bigger things to worry about right now. You need to keep your temper under control.”

“My temper?” Reg’s voice was softer now, completely innocent.

This was when Dura chose to turn the doorknob. Swinging the door open, she swept into the room. Hadrian glanced over to her in shock, however Reg barely looked her way.

“I thought I would take the initiative here, and introduce myself,” she said with a warm smile. “Dura Jones, leader of the Bunker.”

Reg nodded slowly, eyeing her. “Reg Kearny. Exile.”

This caused Dura to pause. “Exile? Perhaps you don’t even want to be here Reg?”

“That’s not what he meant at all,” Hadrian jumped in with an anxious voice.

Shrugging, Reg swiped his hand through his dark, curly hair. Dura was not impressed with his arrogance, but she knew that was what fueled successful leaders. Yet, she was taken with his appearance. His height, broad shoulders, and intelligent eyes were promising.

“We’ll see,” she said, her smile never diminishing. “Why don’t we go out and meet Charlie and Vespasian for breakfast?”

This had the immediate reaction she was hoping for. Hadrian blanched, while Reg’s eyes flashed briefly. “How… how do they know each other already?” Hadrian hissed.

“Who is Vespasian?” Reg muttered.

“My son. I saw the two of them hitting it off already in the dining hall. I guess they have a lot in common, growing up outside of Necropolis.”

Hadrian gawked at her. Reg could not see it, but the shorter teenager knew Dura, and he could tell that she was lying through her teeth. She wasn’t even trying to hide it from him, as she stared at him, her eyes were dancing with amusement.

“Yes,” Reg said calmly, “I would like to meet your son. No doubt he is as impressive as you are.”

Hadrian could barely contain his laughter.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

“Uh …Vest Asian?”

Charlie stood timidly at a safe distance from the hulk of a teenager. Dura had been serious, he definitely stuck out like a sore thumb.

The massive man glanced up at Charlie, observing his ripped leather jacket, and pale skin.

“Are you a ghost?”

“Are you Vest Asian?”

They continued to stare at each other. Charlie shifted back and forth on his feet, never taking his piercing blue eyes off of Vespasian.

The dining hall was full of people, at least 200. The room itself closely resembled a high school cafeteria. Charlie had been shocked by the sudden appearance of a crowd, considering the lobby had been devoid of life …except for the prick clerk.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” the hulk said blankly. “What’s yer name?”

“Charlie,” the blonde replied quickly, he did not want to be caught up in another useless dispute about his name.

This seemed to click with Vespasian. “You came ere’ with Reg Kearny?”

Charlie nodded, and sat down. “Are you Vest –“

“If you call me that one more time, I’m gonna rip yer head off,” Vespasian muttered, “It’s Vespasian.”

Snickering, Charlie leaned back in his chair. “What kind of name is that?”

Vespasian did not respond. He was distracted by Charlie’s overall skinniness. Not nearly as attractive as Hadrian Hero’s well-toned body. That thought brought him back to the situation at hand.

“Tell Kearny to stay away from Hadrian,” he grunted, glaring at Charlie.

The blonde’s eyebrows rose. “You like Hadrian?” Is that even physically possible? He smiled. The fact that anyone could feel possessive of that rat was a miracle.

Before Vespasian could respond, the loudspeaker above them crackled to life. “Paging Charlie Harlin and Vespasian Jones. Please report to the lobby.”

“Goddamn clerk.” Charlie muttered darkly.

Vespasian was eyeing him warily, “How does he know we’re together?”

“I told you, your mother sent me to find you,” Charlie replied. He stood up and gestured towards the door with a nod of his head. “Come on.”

The two trailed out of the dining hall, and back into the plush dining hall. As they looked over to the clerk, the man simply waved them towards a couch. Charlie sighed with resignation and sat down.

“Vespasian,” he said slowly, “What are you and your mother planning here?”

“A take over of Necropolis,” the hulk replied vaguely.

Charlie started to twiddle with the zipper of his jacket, his mind racing. “Like a war?” If it came to that, fuck it, he was finding a way out of here.

“I don’t know,” Vespasian said truthfully. His mother always kept him in the dark.

They both heard footsteps at the same time, and turned to see Hadrian, Reg and Dura walking towards them. All three faces were unreadable.

Reg was the first to speak. “Charlie, I said get breakfast, not whore yourself out to who ever you thought was most powerful.”

This statement caused immediate furor. Charlie jumped up and glared at Reg menacingly. “Did you just call me a whore?” He snickered, “Do you even know what that is?”

“Do you know what loyalty is?” Reg replied coldly, his eyes narrowing.

“You are insane,” Charlie laughed, “I was just talking to him.”

The more muscular boy smiled slowly. “Is that so? I’ve been thinking about it Charlie. It’s some weird coincidence that you were in the one small town Wilcox decided to stop in. In fact, I bet the whole thing was set up.”

“What?” Charlie asked, his hands trembling.

“I think you’re a Necropolis spy.”

This was too much. Charlie bit his lip as he backed away from Reg. “You’re paranoid. I didn’t even know that Necropolis was real until I met you.”

“Right,” Reg scoffed, advancing on Charlie. However, Vespasian stepped in between the two of them, putting his hand against Reg’s chest. His stance was intimidating, but Reg was no weakling. Without warning, he slammed his fist against Vespasian’s cheek, knocking the boy down. As the giant buckled like a tree, Charlie’s heart nearly stopped, for now Reg’s cold eyes were trained on him.

He ran, again. This time there was no way out, so he made for the hallway. Stumbling as he raced down the corridor, he wondered if Hadrian would try to help him, or at least Dura. All he could hear were Reg’s menacing footsteps behind him.

Finally, he hit a dead end, slamming against the wall at full force, and then sinking down to his knees. He felt a hot tears sliding down his face as he covered his head with his arms and waited for the blows to come.

Instead, he heard Reg slowly stalk towards him, and lean down. Grabbing the scruff of Charlie’s shirt, the stronger teenager dragged the boy up to his feet without letting go.

Reg’s black eye was fully healed. Why Charlie noticed that of all things at that particular point in time, he did not know. Reg was breathing heavily, his chest moving slowly up and down.

“Listen to me Charlie. I don’t care if you’re a spy, I have claimed you as my Charge. There is no going back.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Why did you run? Why do you always run?”

These questions were said quietly, but calmly. Charlie wanted to ignore them.

“Answer me!” The grip on his shirt tightened, almost choking him.

“You know why!” Charlie gasped, “You’re fucking insane, and I don’t want to be murdered.”

Reg let go, and backed away from Charlie. “I’m not crazy.”

“You are,” Charlie grunted, rubbing his sore throat. “You really, really are.”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

When Vespasian regained consciousness, it was Hadrian who was leaning over him, pressing a bag of ice against his cheek. “I can’t believe he took you out with one punch,” the shorter teenager said with a smile, once he noticed that Vespasian was awake.

They were in the infirmary. There were barely any medical supplies left, but the cots were still useful for something. Vespasian sighed, and rolled to his side, looking away from Hadrian.

“What?” the other teenager asked teasingly, as he continued to press the ice down.

“It was a cheap shot,” the giant grumbled.

Hadrian burst out laughing, “Is that so?” he asked, as he reached towards Vespasian’s stomach, tickling him.

The bed-ridden boy jerked away, trying not to laugh. He grabbed on to Hadrian’s arm with a vice-like grip, and dragged him down on to the cot. Rolling on top of the smaller teenager, so that he was straddling him, Vespasian looked down at the other’s dark-brown eyes.

“Vespasian…” Hadrian said warningly, trying to push the oaf off of him, “You’re going too far.”

“Why were you being nice to me then?” Vespasian retorted.

Hadrian was silent. Why had he been watching over the oaf? He did not have time to answer his own question as Vespasian leaned down and captured his lips with a passionate kiss.

The muscular youth was persistent, dragging Hadrian’s shirt up as he continued to kiss the boy mercilessly. Hadrian tried to hold back the hand grasping onto his clothing.

Hadrian had to admit, it was hard to deny Vespasian. His lust was no small thing, and even though he always fantasized that it was not true, he knew that Reg would never really be interested in him.

But he had plans. Vespasian was a major obstacle to those plans. He also had to find out if Reg had eviscerated his Charge.

He quickly kneed the already injured teenager in the stomach, and shoved him away. Jumping to his feet, he looked over at Vespasian. “Find another hobby,” he said matter-of-factly, and walked away.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Dura was leaning against the lobby desk, listening as the clerk was scribbled down something on yet another form.

Things may have not been going as planned, but that was fine. She just needed to regroup, plot a new course.

Reg Kearny was not a failure of course, but his potential was only half-baked. Now that she had an inkling of what was wrong with him, she knew how she could hopefully fix it.

“Tell me Stan, when you worked in the hospital, did they make any advances in psychological meds?”

The scribbling stopped. “Of course. Necropolis is fully stocked now. It was a major project.”

Dura nodded, “Anyway of getting some of it out?”

The clerk furrowed his eyebrows. “That would possibly be the hardest task to accomplish. They keep all medications under lock and key.”

“I don’t doubt it…” The proud woman glanced towards the clerk, “Stan, find out how it can be done.”

“Yes mam,” the clerk replied diligently, scribbling more notes down on his papers.

Dura turned to leave, but paused, “Oh, and Stan?” He looked up again. “You were incorrect about something earlier Stan.” She smiled, and tapped a finger against the forms.

“The surname Harlin has a long-standing, infamous reputation within the Houses.”

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’

((Author Note))

Oi, tired.

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you found any bit of this chapter boring/incoherent/whatever, please let me know! I want to make it better!

P.s. Next on my update list is TopSpot :0)