The Rain and Fall of Stanley Soak


   "I don't get you Daemon," Conan said after several minutes of walking in silence.
   "I don't get why it's so hard for you to shut up," Daemon retorted, rubbing his temple in exasperation.
   "I mean," Conan said, ignoring Daemon's slight, "that seemed outright decent for a killer, to let P. K.'s partner go out easy."
   "Well maybe I don't like to get fat chick brains on my knives," Daemon said.
   "No, I think it's something else. The Bible verses, the uncharacteristic compassion... I think there's more to you than meets the eye."
   "If you keep talking, my knife is going to meet your eye," Daemon said with a snarl. "The rules say we can't kill our partners; they don't say we can't blind them." Conan, although certain he had hit onto something, decided to be quiet for the moment.


   After more than an hour of silently sneaking about the city, Conan was about to say something, when he was interpreted by his stomach.
   "Sorry. Guess I'm-"
   "Here," Daemon said, deftly tossing Conan one of the cans of cat food. "Eat that and shut up. It's almost dark; the dangerous ones will use that to their advantage, so we need to find a safe place to sleep."
   "We could always take turns keeping watch," Conan suggested. At the thought, Daemon actually snickered.
   "You? Keep watch? A scarecrow would do a better job keeping killers away."
   "Hey!" Conan said, insulted.
   "You know what? If you think you have what it takes to keep watch, prove it," Daemon said, whipping out his new switchblade. At first, Conan thought Daemon had finally had enough of him, so he was relieved when Daemon put the blade in his hand instead of his eye. But only for a moment.
   "Cut me," Daemon said, completely lacking any emotion that would have been appropriate for the situation.
   "What?!" Conan asked.
   "Cut me," Daemon repeated, "doesn't matter where. Show me you have what it takes to hurt someone, and then you can keep watch." Conan looked at the knife in his hand and couldn't believe what he was being asked to do. He'd never even gotten into fights at school, let alone cut someone! Conan's hand shook as he brought the knife up to Daemon's already wounded arm. He closed his eyes, thinking that if he couldn't see what he was doing, then it would be easier. But suddenly, the knife wasn't in his hand anymore. He opened his eyes to find that it was back in Daemon's and hovering less than an inch above his throat.
   "That's why you can't keep watch," Daemon said, before pocketing the knife and silently walking off. Conan was shaken by the ordeal, and followed Daemon only with great reluctance, slipping the cat food into his pocket along the way.

   As night began to fall, they stumbled upon an old three story parking garage. Next to it was another fairly large building, separated by a wide, dead end alley. The building was obviously under construction when Sozen hit and had now fallen into disarray, evidenced by the numerous scaffolding and large chunks of concrete and steel that had literally fallen out of the wall.
   The structure of the parking garage was in slightly better condition, if not severely cracked and seemingly ready to give at any moment, but with the sun quickly setting, it was either sleep in there or sleep on the street. As they walked past the empty guard station and among the shadows off the garage, Conan couldn't help but imagine killers lurking behind every column. It was then that he remembered he had his own killer to worry about.
   As they made their way up to the second story area of the garage, a giant blob of darkness dominated the corner of a wall. At first, Conan jumped back, afraid some giant enemy was waiting for them, or any of the other irrational fears that grips most people when traveling in an abandoned city filled with killers as you and everyone you love slowly dies of an incurable disease. But when Daemon quickly approached it and it failed to retaliate, Conan felt secure enough to follow.
   Once he came closer, Conan realized that it was a car, which thoroughly embarrassed him.
   "We'll sleep here," Daemon said. "We should be fairly concealed by the darkness, and it will be difficult for anyone to surprise us. Unless they have guns, then we're dead." Conan was deeply disturbed by this.
   "You don't think that's a bit of a problem?" he asked.
   "No plan is perfect," Daemon said as he used his knife to break the lock on the door. They crawled into the cramped confines of the car, Daemon in the front and Conan in the back. Conan doubted he would get any sleep, but then he heard something, a metallic pop. He sat up, suddenly alert.
   "'In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men...' Job 4:13. Give you any ideas?" Daemon said as he ate his cat food dinner. "The last thing I need is to be dragging your dead weight around tomorrow. Eat some of the cat food; a full stomach will help you get to sleep." Reluctantly, Conan complied, taking out his can of cat food, opening it, and eating the squishy contents. Once he had choked down half of it, he put the can down, ready to gag.
   Oddly enough, now that he had something in his stomach, he did feel sleepy. An hour later, Conan's quite snores were threatening their position. Daemon resisted the urge to smother him.


   The next morning, Conan awoke to find Daemon eating what appeared to be a second can of food, but when he looked at the bottom of the car, he counted three empty cans.
   "How can you eat that stuff?" Conan asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
   "When you live on the streets, you learn to eat what you can," was Daemon's simple reply as he polished off his fourth can. "I've eaten everything from rats to what might have been dry feces, so this is like a gourmet three course meal." Conan was thoroughly disgusted, but that just meant more food for Daemon. While Conan tried to wake up without coffee, Daemon began checking the car over for anything they could use. After a few minutes, he had found nothing of interest.
   "Hey, can you hot wire this thing?" Conan asked.
   "Is that a question of my ability, or are you making a suggestion?" Daemon asked with a look that told Conan either answer was wrong. After a second of desperate thinking on Conan's part, Daemon sighed and turned away from Conan.
   "We aren't turning this thing on. The sound would attract everyone within four blocks of us," he said over his shoulder.
   "What are you doing?" Conan asked, trying to peek over Daemon's shoulder before realizing what a bad idea that was.
   "And... there," Daemon said.
   "What did you do?" Conan asked.
   "I hot wired it," was his reply.
   "I thought you said we weren't taking the car," Conan said.
   "I said we weren't turning the car on. We are taking it. It'll serve as cover, carry our supplies, and give us a quick getaway if things get hairy. There's just one thing," Daemon said.
   "What's that? Conan asked. Daemon simply smiled and said,
   "You get to push."

   Moments later, Conan was behind the car, pushing it towards the exit ramp that led to the first story as Daemon sat in the driver's seat. As they neared the incline, Daemon called back to Conan through the open driver side door,
   "Alright, I'm gonna apply the brakes as we go down. Make sure you stay close." He jangled the chain that attached them as way of explanation. As the car slowly made it's descent, Conan made sure to stay with it. However, as Conan passed the grating that kept people from jumping from the second level to the first, his shirt got caught.
   Without thinking, he reached over to free it. It was at that moment that the car Daemon was in moved far enough away that the chain connecting their cuffs went tight. Daemon's hand flew back as the car continued to move forward, and instinctively, his hand shot out for something to hold on to. One of his hands gripped the parking brake, and in his confusion he accidentally switched to drive. As he was pulled further, he struggled to stay in the car, and his foot slammed on the gas.
   Immediately, the car shot forward at break neck speed. Conan instinctively grabbed onto the grating, and so, with his grip failing, Daemon was ripped out the side of the car. With nothing stopping it, the car barreled down the incline, headed straight out of the garage. It was then that Soak and Leianai walked out from the safety of the side of the building, and into the direct path of the car.
   Soak, caught unaware, was unable to react to the car in time as it shattered the yellow and black security arm and bore down on him. Suddenly he found himself in the air, before hitting the ground hard. Leianai, who was attached to Soak by the cuffs, tried to get out of range of the wild car, but when Soak was struck, it pulled him up and then down onto his face.
   After the car struck them, it continued at a fast pace up a low inclined road and out of sight. Daemon fared much better from the experience, but was still roughed up from his spontaneous ejection. None the less, Conan was already rushing to the aid of the hit and run victims.
   "Oh my gosh! I'm sorry; it was an accident! Are you guys ok?" Conan said, offering a hand to help them up. The younger of the two, a teenager with black hair, grabbed his hand and let Conan help him up.
   "What do you mean an accident?! Did you cause that?" the boy groaned.
   "Like I said, it was an accident. We were trying to get that car-" Conan began to say before the boy's partner started coming to. Conan instantly rushed to the side of the man, who despite being in great physical shape, vaguely resembled death warmed over thrice then left under a heat lamp for to long.
   "Are you ok, Sir?" Conan asked. "And could you help me out here?!" Conan said to Daemon, who had spent the entire time watching them.
   "Hey, see the cuffs on them? They're in the game too. We're gonna have to kill them anyway; do you really want to get acquainted first?" Daemon remarked. Conan simply stared at him in disgust before turning back to the old man.
   "Sir, are you ok? Does anything hurt?" The man shook his head to clear it, then answered, seemingly unbothered by the pain.
   "I've broken my left leg. Help me make a splint. My name's Stanley Soak and this is my grandson Leianai. We got dragged into this game and have been wandering around trying to avoid everyone." When Soak announced Leianai as his grandson, Leianai tensed for a split-second before rushing to Soak's side. Conan didn't notice it as he was busy helping Soak to his feet and supporting him, though Daemon, who was making an effort not to help, noted the odd reaction.
   "Grandpa, I'll grab some wood and rope from that construction site," Leianai said as he ran off, only to be stopped by the chain.
   "That won't do. You, boy," Soak said pointing at Conan, "get the stuff and some paper or cloth." Conan ran off to the construction site, dragging along a begrudging Daemon, as Leianai helped Soak to a nearby bench, where they both sat down.
   "They seem nice," Leianai said.
   "That blond boy, sure. But that red haired one... he'll be tricky. I'd like to take him out first, but red hair doesn't seem intent on getting close to us. He's smart, he is," Soak said before Conan came back with the supplies.

   "Ah, there's the boy," Soak said as Conan approached them. "There's a good boy. Let me see that..." Soak said as he took the things from Conan and began to fashion a splint.
   "There, all done," he said a few seconds later.
   "Whew, thank you boy," Soak said as he leaned back.
   "No problem sir. It was kind of our fault. I'm Conan, and this is..."
   "I'm the Demon," Daemon finished.
   "The Demon? What are you doing here?" Soak asked, working under the assumption that vague question would not alert anyone to the fact that he wasn't from this dimension.
   "None of your business, Soak," Daemon said. A flash of anger lit Soak's eyes for a moment; he hated being disrespected. However, he quickly hid it, lest he loose the element of surprise.
   "Not very respectful are you? If I could still call on the force, I'd haul your ass in," Soak said, gambling that anyone with the nickname Demon was a criminal.
   "You're a cop?" Conan asked.
   "Was a cop. Sozen took care of that," Soak said with a scowl.
   "So, have you guys run into anyone yet?" Conan asked.
   "Thankfully, no. We've managed to keep ourselves hidden pretty well, although we almost got caught when that lady started talking over the loudspeakers," Soak lied.
   "I can relate," Conan said, remembering the unpleasant episode.
   "Conan, could you see if there's any ice somewhere? It'll help stop the inflammation," Soak said. Conan nodded his agreement and turned around to look for a place that might still have a functioning ice maker. As he did, Soak pulled out his trench spike and prepared to bring it down on Conan's unsuspecting skull.
   Just as Soak's hand began to arc down, Daemon pulled the chain of his cuffs hard, tumbling Conan out of Soak's range.
   "What on earth was-" Conan began to say before Soak backhanded him with the trench spike, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.
   "That's one," Soak said as he eyed Daemon. Soak then stood up, seemingly oblivious to his broken leg, and began to raise his foot above Conan's head, ready to stomp his head like a cockroach with his monstrous boots. But Daemon, adrenaline already pumping, did a running pile drive into Soak, knocking him over.
   "Damn it, Conan," Daemon cursed under his breath as he and the old man toppled over.
   As soon as they collided, Soak grabbed Daemon in a bear hug, making it difficult for him to get to his switchblades. As they went down, Leianai watched from the sidelines. After his last battle, he didn't feel like he ever wanted to fight again. But then he remembered what happened to Chris when Gil died, and he pictured his own chest gaping open like the mouth of a devil.
   He immediately flew onto Daemon, punching and kicking wildly. Some connected, other didn't, and some managed to hit his partner. Despite the barrage, Daemon managed to wriggle his hand down to his pocket. He groped for his knife blindly, before it met his hand. Instantly he pressed it's button, and the blade shot out the end and straight into Soak's gut. If Soak had seen it coming, the pain would have only made him squeeze tighter, but the surprise attack caused his muscles to react faster than his brain. His hold on Daemon immediately loosened, and Daemon quickly escaped and got out of Soak's reach. With Daemon out of his arms, Soak pushed his partner out of the way, picked up his trench spike from where it had fallen, and slipped it back on.
   "Leianai, stay out of this. This kid's a killer; you'll only get in the way," Soak said. Leianai was happy to oblige, and he went to go sit a few feet away, next to Conan's body.
   Daemon and Soak began to circle, neither willing to make the first move. Daemon could see the fire in the man's eyes again, and Soak could see a similar fire in his. It seemed as if they would stare each other down until one on of them died of old age, when suddenly something broke up their fight.
   The car from earlier was now on a come back tour as it rolled down the incline it had previously speed up. Unfortunately, Leianai and Conan's body were both in the car's path. Soak began to pull his partner out of the way of the car, but before he could, Daemon stuck his knife through a loop in Soak's chain and lodged it into a crack in the ground. Then he pulled on the chain connecting him to Conan, dragging him out of the way.
   In the instance before the car ran Leianai over, his eye's met Daemon's. With sad eyes, Daemon mouthed,
   "I'm sorry."


   As the car struck Leianai, the chain was pulled tight, ripping the knife out of the ground and Soak's arm out it's socket. The car, after it's speed bump, continued backwards until it slammed into the side of the parking garage. Soak rushed over to Leianai's body to see if he was still alive. As he crouched down and began to check Leianai over, Daemon silently picked up his knife, slipped his second knife out his pocket, and in one swift motion, sliced Soak's Achilles' tendons. Immediately, he fell onto his back, struggling to get up. Daemon silently replaced his knives and walked over to an awakening Conan.
   "What happened?" Conan asked, obviously suffering from a concussion.
   "Nothing, just come with me," Daemon said as he helped Conan to his feet. As the two walked away, Soak shouted,
   "Come back here you bastard!"
   "Who's that?" Conan asked.
   "Your imagination, just keep walking and ignore it," Daemon said.
   "Is Cecelia ok?" Conan asked.
   "Yeah, she just fine now. All thanks to you. Now just keep walking with me, and we can go see her," Daemon lied.
   "I'm glad she's ok," Conan said before losing consciousness again.

   Anela sat at her station, watching the monitoring televisions for any thing important. Or at least, she was supposed to be. For the most part, she had been monitoring Daemon's movement, so it was inevitable that she witness the fight between Soak and Daemon.
   She leaned forward in apprehension, hoping that Daemon would lose. When the car came barreling toward Conan, she was absolutely giddy. She could go and finish him personally if his partner died. That would show him who was in control. But when he managed to not only save his partner, but doom his opponents, she smashed her fist against the table in frustration.
   She cursed loudly as she prepared to call the retcon team, but then she noticed that Leianai still seemed to be breathing. She put down the receiver and waited to see what Soak would do with a his paraplegic partner. What she saw made her vomit. After a few moments she couldn't watch any more, and she immediately called up the finishers.

   Once Daemon and Conan were gone, Soak managed to flip onto his stomach and drag himself back to Leianai. A quick check over told him that Leianai wasn't dead, but was completely paralyzed, most likely permanently. He was still breathing, so Soak wouldn't be taken out yet. However, with a paralyzed partner he wouldn't make it much longer. But first things first, he needed to be able to walk again.
   With a great amount of effort and a greater amount of willpower, Soak dragged himself over to a nearby trash can that, he hoped, would hold what he needed. After a quick rummage he found some large springs, a sewing kit, some old, but unused fire crackers, a lighter that was mostly out of fuel, and a pocket knife among the rubbish. He looked over his finds and sighed. It would have to do.
   "Hey Leianai, I need to borrow some stuff from you. Hope you don't mind," Soak said as he flipped open the pocket knife. Luckily, the blade was still sharp, and Soak was able to cut into Leianai's lower leg with only a small amount of hassle. Once he removed the skin, he dug his hand into Leianai's calf muscles in search of tendons. Methodically he cut them out, laying each to the side. When he had all he needed, he widened the cut in the back of his own right leg with the pocket knife until he could feel the bone.
   Dexterously, he slipped a spring in where his Achilles' tendon used to be, securing it in place by tying one end of a tendon to the spring, then sewing it through his fibula and tibia. He made sure it was completely in place by making several loops and using several tendons, before tying all the ends back to the spring. He then repeated the process with his left leg. When he was done, he cauterized the wounds using the powder from the firecrackers and what was left of the fuel in the lighter.
   His emergency field surgery complete, he tentatively stood up, testing out his footing. With a considerable amount of pain, he found that he could stand, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He did notice that his balance was horrific, partly due to his splint, and resolved to do something about it when he had proper medical equipment. But he had one more job to do first.
   "Sorry partner, I know how bad you wanted to kill me," Soak said as he began cutting into Leianai again, this time his shoulder.

   Just as Soak severed the last few tendons and broke the remaining pieces of cartilage, he heard a gun cock behind him.
   "Any last words old man?" the man sneered behind him. Soak hated how cocky cowards got when they had guns.
   "Actually, no," Soak replied. Before the man could react, Soak whipped around, cutting into the man's neck with the weapon he had improvised. With some careful cutting and preservation of muscle tissue, Soak had managed to create an ax out of Leianai's left hand, arm, and shoulder blade. The arm functioned as the handle, while the shoulder blade, which Soak had cut the skin and muscle off the end of, served as the ax head. And with the arm now separate from Leianai's body, Soak wasn't tied down to what was now Leianai's corpse. As the man went down, clutching his bleeding jugular vein, Soak raised his bloody ax above his head and asked with a note of sarcasm,
   "Any last words, punk?" before bringing the ax down and breaking the man's spinal chord. He quickly grabbed the man's gun and shoved it into his pocket. He then hobbled over to the construction site and grabbed a board that was large enough to use as a makeshift cane. In addition, he found that by tying a board to the elbow of his ax, it functioned more efficiently.
   Finally done, he began to walk, cane in one hand and ax in the other, in the direction Daemon had headed in, eager to repay him for his deeds.

   Daemon had carried Conan a few blocks away, making sure to double back and take odd routes in case he was being followed. Eventually he found a house with a door and windows that hadn't been broken yet. Still supporting Conan on his back, Daemon used his blade to break the lock on the door. Luckily the deadbolt wasn't locked too, and he managed to get the door open. He closed the door behind him, making sure to use the deadbolt, then walked into the living room.
   He gently laid Conan down on a couch, and sat in a nearby arm chair. Conan would need to lay still and rest for a while for his concussion to heal, and so Daemon began to slip into a light sleep, still subconsciously alert for any sound that meant an intrusion.

   "What do you mean the retcon failed!?" Anela screamed into her receiver. She quickly rewound the tape on the camera overlooking Soak, and was once again repulsed by what she saw.
   "My God. What is he? Have all sniper units converge on his position," Anela ordered.
   "That won't be necessary," said a voice from the shadow of the doorway.
   "Master!" Anela said, instantly standing and bowing as the mad king of Virza walked up and took the phone from her.
   "Cancel that last order. Do not engage Stanley Soak," the master said calmly.
   "But Master, he's-"
   "He's doing what this tournament was designed for. If he manages to kill the Demon, I may yet let him live as a reward. Remember, this is a game after all," he said with an evil grin.
   "Yes, my master. But what of the Demon? If he is such a problem, couldn't the sniper teams take him out?" Anela asked.
   "My sweet Anela," the master said as he held her chin in her hand and looked into her eyes, "where would be the fun in that?"

   "Hey Sis, are you ok? Angela, wake up," a young boy with red hair asked of his sister. "Mom? Dad? Wake up!" the boy said as he tried in vane to awaken his dead family. Their blood poured out of dozens of cuts, washed all over his hands, and disappeared into his hair as he struggled to wake them. "Help! Someone help!" he cried, tears streaming down his eyes and diluting the blood.
   Suddenly, everything changed. The boy was now older, around fifteen, and instead of a cozy home, he was now in a dreary alleyway. In his hands he held the dying body of his best friend, who was slowly bleeding to death from similar wounds.
   "Michael? I told you not to go after her! Come on, you're not hurt that bad; we've gotta get back to the orphanage before they realize we're gone," he said as his tears fell into his friend's hair.
   "Daemon? I- I was only able to get one of your knives back," Michael said as he pulled one of Daemon's knives out of his pocket. "She said- she said she would keep the other one as a- a souvenir."
   "I don't care about the knives! I just want you to be ok! I'll kill her for this!" Daemon screamed.
   "Daemon. It's not her fault. She didn't- she didn't do this to me," Michael said.
   "Then who did?! Tell me!"
   "I'm sorry- I couldn't get both your knives back. I know how much they meant to you."
   "Damn it Michael, why can't you ever just answer my questions?" Daemon said, no longer screaming.
   "Daemon. I'm glad... that I... met you."
   "Don't talk like that. You're coming back with me."
   "I don't think so. I know... bad things... seem to happen... around you, but... promise- promise me... you won't..."
   "Won't what? Michael, won't what? Michael!"

   Daemon bolted up from where he had fallen asleep, reflexively going for his knife when he heard movement.
   "Whoa, glad I'm not your alarm clock," Conan said.
   "You're awake I see," Daemon said, replacing his knife.
   "Same to you; you like you just had a nightmare."
   "I always have nightmares," was Daemon's blunt reply.
   "Can I ask you how we got here and why my head feels ready to split in two?" Conan asked.
   "No." An awkward silence permeated the room for a few seconds. "We have to go back," Daemon said, finally breaking the silence.
   "Go back where?" Conan asked.
   "To get the car."
   "I thought the car rolled away."
   "It did. It's a long story, and I want no questions." Daemon said, rising from his chair. "Now then, 'How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? When wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?' Proverbs 6:9" Conan smiled.
   "I was wondering when you were going to use another verse. I find it kind of refreshing."
   "'Seeing then that these things cannot be spoken against, ye ought to be quiet, and to do nothing rashly,' Acts 19:36."

   "This is not good," Daemon said as he eyed the carnage outside the parking garage. Conan was not as reserved.
   "What on earth- who could have done this?!"
   "A very dangerous person," Daemon concluded. "And if he's smart enough to kill a finisher, he's smart enough to know we'd be coming back."
   "Then we need to book it!" Conan said. He began to walk away, but stopped when he saw that Daemon wasn't coming.
   "What good will it do? If he is dedicated enough to do all this, he won't stop until we are dead."
   "So what do you plan to do?"
   "It looks like rain today."
   "I said, 'what do we do', not, 'does it look like rain?'"
   "Ah, but they are one and the same..."

   Soak had decided to patrol a grid of one block per circuit, making sure that he always ended up back outside the parking garage. He had already completed three circuits, and if he still couldn't find them he planned to extend his search radius. As he hobbled down the road for the final time, he saw someone in the distance. Someone with red hair.
   "Looks like the Demon had the guts to come back," Soak smirked. "How unfortunate for him." Daemon was standing outside what Soak knew to be a dead end alley. If Soak could trap him in there, it would be as easy as shooting dodo birds with a shotgun, something he sorely missed.
   Daemon didn't seem to see Soak as he crept closer, for Soak was sticking to the shadows of the garage. He could not help but smile as Daemon wandered into the alley; this would be too easy. At last, Soak made it to the mouth of the alley, and, leaning against the side of the wall, he pulled out the gun he had stolen.
   "Fitting the Demon should die in a hellhole like this," Soak said, getting Daemon's attention. Soak edged ever closer, knowing that his poor balance would affect his aim. "Oh good, your helpful friend is here as well," Soak chuckled as Conan appeared from out of a shadow. "Wouldn't want to lose him, now would we?" Soak carefully took aim, careful to get the perfect shot. Daemon threatened fruitlessly with his blade as Soak slowly inched toward them.
   Then suddenly, with a flick of his wrist, Daemon and Conan flew into the air. Soak cursed and shot, but the surprise of it all spoiled his aim. He looked up to see that Daemon and Conan both had ropes tied to their wrists, and it was these ropes the caused their suddenly flight. As their ascent ended, they rushed into the building through one of the holes that had fallen out. But as Soak looked up, he noticed something slightly more relevant to him. The scaffolding above him was falling, serving as the weight that bore Daemon and Conan up.
   Soak, abandoning his cane, scrambled out from under the shadow of the scaffolding just in time as it splintered behind him. Soak was now leaning against the back of the alley, and looked up to glare at his prey. Daemon, however, did not return the look, because he was busy severing a series of ropes. Soak found this curious, but was distracted by a familiar sound. A car tire crunching on pavement to be exact.
   Only now did Soak realize that he had fallen into the very trap he had hoped to use. Quickly, he tried to escape the alley before the trap was sprung, but as he got halfway, an explosion tore apart the already weak concrete of the parking garage, leaving a large hole in the base. Now missing a solid foundation, the entire garage began to crumble and fall.
   Debris fell like rain at the mouth of the alley, completing cutting off Soak's escape. He was now trapped between two walls of brick and two of rubble.
   "Is this what you wanted Daemon?!" he called. "You've got me trapped like a rat, so come kill me like one! Can you kill a defenseless old man in cold blood?" Daemon stuck his out of the hole and said, in a voice that was completely calm,
   "Yes, but I don't have to." He then pointed to the sky, which by now was dark with thunderclouds. Lightning split the sky, and the first drizzle of a rain began to fall.
   "You think rain can kill me?" Soak said, ignorant of what rain meant in Virza.
   Due to all the chemicals and pollution that had risen into the sky during and after the panic of the initial outbreak, the upper atmosphere was filled with every sort of potent gas. But when it rained, the water condensing on those chemicals caused a powerful, caustic acid rain. As the first rain drops began to fall on Soak's skin, he began to realize this.

   Daemon and Conan, not particularly eager to watch a man melt to death, had moved farther into the building and away from the rain. Daemon had expected screaming, but apparently the old man wanted to go out in style. Tired from all the work it had taken to set the trap, they sat on the ground facing each other. Conan could see the rain from where he was sitting, and he looked at it in horror and wonder.
   "Don't worry; it only seems to corrode organics. We should be safe in here," Daemon said, not even looking at the rain behind him.
   "We don't have anything like this where I live, at least not this bad," Conan said.
   "This isn't even as worse as it gets. You should see London," Daemon said.
   "So Daemon, can I ask you a question?" Conan ventured.
   "If I answer it, will you swear not to ask any more today?"
   "Sounds fair."
   "Then spit it out."
   "How on earth did you know how to set that trap? I mean, the counter balance with the scaffolding, rigging the car to explode, destroying the parking garage to trap him; that's some complex stuff to just know from the streets."
   "Before the orphan house, I had a few stepfathers. I picked up stuff from whatever job they had."
   "You're an orphan?"
   "Well, seeing as I lived in an orphan house..."
   "Good poi- look out!" Conan shouted.
   Without thinking, Conan lunged forward and pushed Daemon over. Suddenly, a sharp pain jolted Conan's shoulder, and he rolled over onto his back. Daemon looked up from where he'd been knocked down, and could see, against all odds, Soak laying on the ground with a gun in his hands. He had used his grisly ax as a grappling hook and scaled the side of the building. However, the acid had taken it's toll on the man. Muscle and bone were exposed on several parts of his body, and it looked like his eyes had been burned shut.
   Quietly, Daemon got up, crept over, and kicked the gun out of Soak's hands. Soak tried to yell, but all that came out was a horrid retching sound; the rain had gotten his vocal chords too. Enraged by this man that would not give up, Daemon pulled on his chain, causing his organic ax to come sliding up to Daemon's feet. With a crazed look in his eyes, Daemon raised the ax, which due to the rain was beginning to fall apart, over his head. With a howl of rage, Daemon brought the ax down on Soak's neck, but he wasn't done.
   Daemon hacked and swung, and when the arm finally broke, he beat Soak with the bones, and then his fists. Finally, he grasped his knife, and with one slice, cut Soak's throat. Finally done with his mad frenzy, Daemon kicked Soak's body back into the alley below; it's final resting place. Once the anger began to subside, Daemon remembered Conan.
   He quickly rushed over to Conan, who was curled up on the floor, clutching his left shoulder. There was a small pool of blood beneath him.
   "Are you ok?" Daemon ask.
   "It hurts. It really freaking hurts!" Conan said.
   "Here, let me see," Daemon said as he began checking Conan's wound. "It's okay, it didn't hit anything important. We have to stop the bleeding though," Daemon said as he tore a strip of material from the bottom of his rain coat. He carefully wet it with the rain outside, then made a field bandage for Conan's wound, something else he picked up from a stepfather.
   "It's gonna hurt, but the rain will kill any bacteria that would cause an infection," Daemon said. Conan sucked in a breath when the bandage met his skin, but he didn't cry out. Once the bandage was done, Daemon took a piece of rope left over from the trap and loosely tied it over the bandage to apply some pressure. Once he was done, he sat back down.
   "Feel better?" Daemon asked.
   "Y-yeah. It just stings a lot," Conan said, baring the pain surprisingly well.
   "That shot would have killed me," Daemon said.
   "What?"
   "It went into your left shoulder. If you hadn't pushed me over, it would have gone straight through my heart. Why did you save me?"
   "I didn't even think about it. I just saw him aiming the gun and I reacted." Daemon was silent for a moment.
   "Three questions," he finally said.
   "What?"
   "You may ask me three questions, and I will answer them with the truth, no matter how painful."
   "Daemon, you don't have to-"
   "I owe you my life. Ask your questions. However, I would like to ask one of my own," Daemon said.
   "Um, alright."
   "Why did you enter this tournament?" Now it was Conan's turn to wax silent for a moment.
   "My sister, Cecelia. The virus in her is getting worse. If I don't get that cure-"
   "I had a sister once," Daemon cut Conan off. "Here name was Angela."
   "What happened to her?" Conan asked, using up one of his questions in the process.
   "I killed her, along with my parents," Daemon said. There was no hiding the look of shame and sorrow in his eyes; they spoke louder than tears ever could.
   "Daemon, why do you know the Bible so well?" Conan asked his second question.
   "The orphanage where I lived taught us Bible verses every day. It seemed so marvelous that even someone like me could be forgiven, so I memorized the whole thing."
   "Do you regret killing all those people?" Conan asked his final question.
   "Ever moment of my life," Daemon said. Conan couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a single tear roll down Daemon's eye. Conan, not even keeping track of his questions any more, asked a fourth.
   "If you regret it, why did you do it?" Despite not being obligated to, Daemon answered the question anyway.
   "I didn't mean to! It wasn't my fault! It's this damned curse I've had forced upon me!" Daemon suddenly screamed, before rolling over with his back turned to Conan. It was obvious he was done talking. Conan laid back, wincing from the pain in his shoulder, and tried to get to sleep. But even though he was exhausted, it took him hours to fall asleep. He kept thinking about what Daemon had said, and what kind of curse he was talking about.

   Stanley Soak lay, or rather, slowly sank into the ground as the rain slowly ate away at his flesh. He was still alive thanks to all the genetic monkeying around he'd had done, a choice he was regretting in death as he felt each bit of his flesh chewed away. Suddenly, next to him appeared someone he thought he'd never see again.
   "Gorger," he said. Or at least tried to; his vocal chords weren't capable of producing sound anymore.
   "Wasn't this fun?" Gorger mocked as he watched Soak dying and he remained immune to the rain's bite. "Now you know what it's like on the other side of the electric fence. Not as fun as you thought?" he said, bending low to stare into Soak's melting eyes. "As much fun as this is, I have need of you yet, and unfortunately I don't have much time. I've got some people on my mind, but they're almost all gone. Soon I'll have to meet a few of them, so come along father. We have a few more games to play before the day is done."
   Gorger reached into the puddle that was Soak, and pulled out what solid piece was left, which amounted mostly to Soak's skull. With all his might, Gorger threw the skull, sending it spiraling through space and time.


   "Mr. Soak? Are you alright?" a voice said.
   "Gorger! Where the hell am I now?!" Soak said, flailing the arms that had miraculously grown back. He felt several hands hold him still as a voice said,
   "Mr. Soak! You are in the hospital. You've been in a coma since the explosion at the headquarters. I'm glad you're ok; the next DABR is starting soon," a doctor said to him.
   "Why, yes. Yes of course. Damned drugs are making me delusional," Soak lied. He knew what had happened was no dream, and he knew it wasn't a drug induced hallucination. He knew this, because in the corner of the room, holding a "Get well soon!" balloon, was a smiling Gorger.
   No one seemed to notice him as he walked through the doctors and tied the balloon to Soak's bed. Weary from the experience, Soak fell into a deep sleep. And somehow, he knew when he awoke that the balloon would still be there, and Gorger would be watching him again. Gorger was always watching...