Seven Steps From Humanity -Chapter 4
Author: dream-edge
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers. Information on races now added.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 1
VENJIX was a poison. It’s very presence withered the land. In places where it’s army used the twisted magics given to it, the land had quickly died. In the places far from any battlefields, the sky was always gray and only weeds grew; those places existed in a near-constant twilight. But near Corinth, near those true battlefields, there was very little that lived. All the plants and trees had died, the soil had dried into dust and blown away, and the sky had been scorched an ugly red. The entire east-coast had withered into a desert within a year of the VENJIX takeover.
Nothing survived in the Wastes for long. Even if you had the proper supplies to get through the desert, VENJIX drones were everywhere and there were machine factories every day’s drive apart. People thought the VENJIX Barricade was the difficult part; really, it was the desert that killed you.
Dillon had been in the Wastes for a month and a half by now, ever since he had escaped one of the factories. He’d been captured by VENJIX drones during the takeover, when he and his sister had been fleeing to Albyon. They’d almost made it. Then the city had fallen. Everything had been afire; there had been bodies everywhere. Dillon was a Predator, he’d been born for the battlefield, but thinking back to that day still gave him chills. Alone, he might have escaped. But Amara had been with him; for all her talents, his dear sister as still blind. There had been no way out.
Dillon had been born ready to die for those he loved; it was the gift and curse of the Berserkers. Sometimes, he thought that dying there, taking down as many drones as he could, would have been a kinder fate. The drones hadn’t bothered to kill them though. They had merely been knocked out. By the time Dillon had awoken, they were already in the VENJIX factory. He hadn’t known then what they were planning, only that every instinct in him was demanding he protect his sister. He had, to the best of his abilities; he’d gotten her out. But not himself. He’d lost any sense of time in there, but he was sure that had been at least a year ago. He had no idea what had happened to her after that. He hoped she had made it to Corinth, but he didn’t know.
Berserkers were warriors, born for battle. If Dea al Mon were the perfect hunters, Berserkers were the perfect soldiers. They didn’t fight, they protected; everything about them was tied into that vicious urge to protect the Pack in a way that was wholly Berserker. No other Pack was bound up in such a way. It was how they’d gotten the name; hurt a Berserker’s Pack and they went absolutely insane.
Amara was the only Pack he had and he didn’t even know where she was. That knowledge was like a poison in him, one that slowly ate away at him everyday.
He’d spent the time he had once he was free jumping from outpost to outpost, stealing supplies from the machines, slowly making his way to Corinth. He’d stolen a car once, a black Fury that he hadn’t let go of. It was one of the only things he still owned; the car and his key and watch that he’d gotten from his grandfather before the man had died. It was good car really, but the radio always went wonky. The twisted magics of the Wastes tended to fuzz the signal. Normally, it was a small compliant. But out here, he needed it. A message played constantly across the airwaves from Corinth, repeating the coordinates for the city. It was too easy to get lost out here, that signal tended to be the only thing that prevented him from going in circles.
He grimaced when the signal disappeared into static again and pulled the car to a stop. He sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wheel. He sat there for a few minutes, listening to the static, before finally shutting off the car and getting out. He had been out here for a month and a half; sometimes, he felt like he was going insane. He leaned back against the door. He needed to get to Corinth but…
But he’d been the machines’ lab rat. There were experiments he was still mentally blocking that had placed mechanical parts within his body, welded onto his bones. He was pretty sure they’d put something in his head to. He knew they’d given him magic. He tried never to use it, every time he did it made him sick, made him feel out of control for weeks afterward. Truth was, he wasn’t heading straight to Corinth because he wasn’t sure the ruin-wards would let him through.
“Excuse me.”
He jerked up, staring at the young man who was standing barely ten feet from him. Dillon should have noticed him long before now; a Berserkers situational awareness was what made them so dangerous, they knew exactly where everything was and how to use it as a weapon. Yet somehow, this young man had slipped right under his notice. The man smiled at him unsurely, arms raised from his sides in a show of peace. Dillon frowned at him, trying to get a hold of the man’s psychic scent. It was dark, a rich darkness that spoke of the demon kind. And yet…
He couldn’t identify race.
The realization rocked him. The scent was obviously demon kind but he couldn’t lock down an exact race. The scent went… fuzzy, whenever he tried. Not knowing a person’s race, especially one of the demon kind, was inviting trouble. He looked up, right into the man’s eyes- pale brown, not the gold or red of the demon kind-. It hit him like a blow.
Resonate.
Except, no, not really. Almost. The boy almost resonated, in a way that said something fundamental about the man had changed just enough so that he no longer resonated. Or perhaps Dillon was the one that had changed, there was no way to say. It didn’t matter. Perhaps in another time it would have, but it had been so long since Dillon had had anything resembling Pack that almost was good enough.
He was a slip of a man, honestly; Dillon was sure he would break him if he held too tightly. He was dirty and his face was burned from too many days out in the Wastes, but he didn’t hold the too thin look of someone who had spent the past year running from VENJIX drones. His hair was a curled mess, the same plain brown as his eyes. The only thing that gave any hint to his race was his ears, which were pointed, but that trait was exclusive to the woodland kin and more than likely just a hold-off from from a distant bloodline.
“Who are you?” he asked carefully.
“Ziggy.” The man said. “My name is Ziggy.” He paused and glanced at the car Dillon was still leaning against. “You headed for Corinth?”
“Where else?”
Ziggy nodded in agreement and looked back at him. “Can I come?” he asked. When Dillon didn’t say anything, he stepped forward and hedged. “I’d say we’re only about two week’s walk from Corinth, so you’d only have to put up with me for about a day or two.”
“You know where Corinth is?” he asked in surprise.
“Yeah.” A dark, self-deprecating smile slid across Ziggy’s face. “It’s a long story." Ziggy looked up at him again, almost hopeful. “I could tell you along the way?”
Dillon sighed, because the man almost resonated, almost, so there was no way he’d be able to leave him here. “Get in.” He ordered. He turned away when a wide, stunning smile slipped across the man’s face. He heard Ziggy take two steps forward then freeze abruptly, gasping. Dillon closed his eyes, not willing to turn around. He already knew what had caused the abrupt stop. Finally noticed it, eh boyo? He thought.
VENJIX was a poison, in the land and in the body and now it was splashed across his psychic scent for all to see. There was no hiding what he now was.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said blankly. Not that that had ever prevented any others from freaking.
There was a cold silence from behind him, not that he was expecting anything else. Well, perhaps he was expecting the man to run away. Then came the slow shift of feet over sand. Towards him.
“Alright.” Ziggy said carefully, moving towards the passenger side. Dillon watched him in surprise; Ziggy paused with his hand on the door and looked up at him. Ziggy smiled slightly, brown eyes warm, and ducked into the car. A slow smile slipped across Dillon’s face in answer. “Which way?” he asked as he got in as well and looked across at his passenger. Ziggy waved a hand to the left while he buckled up.
Ziggy was an odd companion. He sat in the seat next to him quietly, one hand out the open window as he tried to catch the air. He had hardly said a word since getting in but he didn’t seem uncomfortable with Dillon. His psychic scent was washing through the car, seeping quickly into the leather. Dillon had never found the demon kind psychic scents particularly attractive, but something about the rich darkness of Ziggy’s was oddly… appealing.
Dillon drummed his fingers against the wheel, watching from the corner of his eyes as Ziggy’s fingers slipped through the wind. “So. I believe you owe me a story.” He said.
Ziggy’s hand paused in the air, then thumped against the side of the car as he dropped it. “I’m from Corinth.” He said.
Dillon frowned. “What, you walked out of Corinth?”
“I was running actually.” Ziggy said in a voice that was too empty. Dillon glanced over at him to find he was staring at the side mirror, watching the ground pass beneath the wheels of the car. “There was an… incident.” Ziggy finally said after a long pause. “Something happened and I freaked. And, idiot that I am,” There was that bitter, self-deprecating smile again. “I ran.” He pulled his arm in and looked over at Dillon. “It really was stupid. There are places I could have gone, places I would have been safe. I was, uh, about two days out of Corinth when I calmed down enough to realize what I’d done. Needless to say, I freaked again.”
“No doubt.” Dillon said. Ziggy huffed next to him, sounding almost amused. Dillon glanced over at the man. “Is your name really Ziggy?” he asked.
“Sigmund, actually.” Ziggy said. “Sigmund Elijah Grover. I’ve never liked it. When I was young, I went by Elie. But my mother didn’t like that, so I changed it to Ziggy. She didn’t quite like that either.” Ziggy laughed briefly and looked over at him. “I just realized, I don’t know your name.”
Dillon looked back at him. “You make a habit of getting into cars with strangers?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
He laughed. When had he last laughed? Since before the war, at least, probably later. “Dillon. My name’s Dillon Kane.”
“Dillon.” Ziggy said slowly, like he was getting the feel of the name. Dillon shivered, because there was something very sexual about the way Ziggy rolled his name around on his tongue. He glanced over at the younger man. He hadn’t noticed before, had been too wrapped up in identifying the man’s race and enjoying that he had someone who was almost Pack with him after so long, but now that he was paying attention he realized just how sensual Ziggy was. It was written in the lines of his body, in how he leaned against the door, limbs in an sprawl that looked elegant without trying; it was in the slight tilt of his head that caused his hair to cast shadows across his face in mysterious, appealing patterns; it was in how he moved, because for however awkward he seemed standing still, he moved with a grace that drew the eye. Dillon was annoyed, not for the first time, that Berserkers were monogamous.
“So, Dillon,” Ziggy said. “What’s a Berserker doing all the way out here without a Pack?”
“Trying to find one.” He said. He gulped thickly and admitted. “I have a sister. It was just us before VENJIX attacked, so she’s all I have. We got separated during the war. I hope she made it to Corinth but I have no idea.”
There was a long pause. “That sucks.” Ziggy said emphatically.
Dillon smiled. “Yeah.” He agreed. He hesitated then sighed because he couldn’t not ask and he was honestly surprised he hadn’t before. “I’m sorry, this is going to sound rude. But what are you?”
Ziggy actually smiled. “We’ve been driving for three hours and you’re just now asking?” he asked, sounding amused. “Admittedly, I think of everyone I’ve met, you’ve lasted the longest in not asking.”
“You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?” he asked.
“Nope.” Ziggy answered, popping the ‘p’ in a way that was positively obscene.
“You’re annoying.” He said, though he didn’t really mean it.
“I get that a lot.”
The sun had long since set by the time they drove to a cliff that overlooked the City walls. They glowed in the half-moon light, the runes withering across the walls like blue snakes. It was a beautiful, rugged city, standing like sanctuary in the middle of the Wastes. Dillon had heard rumors from those he’d met, briefly, in the Wastes. They had spoken of Corinth like it was some holy place, sacred and protected. Dillon hadn’t thought very much of them at the time- they had tried to steal his car with no plans of taking him along-, had thought they were clinging to some stupid idea of a place to prevent themselves from going insane. But here, seeing the city standing strong in the middle of land that had been so obviously torn apart by war, it was easy to believe that the city really was something hallowed.
“When you’re inside,” Ziggy said next to him, quiet and almost sad. “You forget how lucky you are. Those walls, they start to feel like a birdcage. You forget they’re meant to keep the wolves out.” Ziggy gulped thickly then said. “We made it just in time. No one’s ever made it through the Barricade in broad daylight.”
“Anyone ever make it on the new moon?” he asked, looking over at him.
Ziggy smiled. “Not really, but no one talks about that.”
“That entire field is probably rigged with motion sensors and heat detectors.” Dillon pointed out. “VENJIX will know we’re here before we’re half-way across.”
“The city will send out helpers.” Ziggy assured. “We just have to keep moving until we make it through the ruin-wards.” Ziggy paused before saying what neither of them wanted them to. “If we get through the ruin-wards.”
Dillon stared at the city for a long moment. “Her name’s Amara.” He said. “My sister, her name is Amara. She’s a Siren and she’s been blind since she was seven. She’ll be nineteen by now.” He looked over at Ziggy, who was watching him with a frown. “You’re getting through those wards, I promise you that. But if I don’t make it through, promise me you will look for her.”
Ziggy watched him, eyes wide. Thanks to the robotics, Dillon could clearly make out the lines of his face, the way Ziggy’s mouth opened and closed unsurely. “If you don’t make it through, what are you going to do?”
“Keep looking for her. If she’s not out here, then she’s got to be in there, and I’ll know she’s safe.”
“You’ll be alone.” Ziggy said, sounding shocked. “You’re Pack race. You’re not meant to be alone.”
“Ziggy, let’s be serious.” He said calmly. “Even if I get through the wards, they’re not going to want me in that city.” He turned back to the wheel and put the car back into drive. Ziggy continued watching him as they sped down. Finally he said, a soft whisper in the wind. “I promise.”
He smiled slightly and nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
They sped across the desert towards the city, Dillon more glad than ever that the car he’d stolen was black so they better blended into the night. For the first time, he was also glad for the robotics that had enhanced his sight enough that he didn’t need the headlights to navigate the field around Corinth.
“Dillon.” Ziggy said, voice tight. Dillon glanced over at him and caught sight of the headlights racing towards them. VENJIX drones. An odd calm settled over him as his mind sped up, senses spreading to take in the whole of the battlefield. This, here, with Pack next to him, this was what Berserkers were born for. “I see them.” He assured calmly.
“Can we outrun them?”
“Them, yeah.” He said, then looked over at the lights approaching them from the front, intent on cutting them off. “Them, not so much.”
“Do you have a gun?” Ziggy asked. Dillon glanced over at him again, this time in surprise. “Can you hit them?”
“Watch me.”
Dillon sighed but reached blindly behind him, feeling around the backseat until he found the gun he rarely had to use. Ziggy grabbed it the minute he brought his hand back, unlatching his seatbelt and pulling himself out the open window. Dillon’s eyes widened and his calm broke as he lunged after the young man. “Get back in here, Ziggy!” he shouted.
Ziggy ignored him, settling on the door frame, one arm still inside the car and grasping at the roof for balance. Both of his legs were clamped against the door. If the car was rocked even slightly, Dillon could see no way for Ziggy to remain still. A single hit, and the younger man would go flying. Forget being hit, the recoil of the gun would knock him out of the car. “Ziggy!” he hissed again, this time with desperation as every instinct he had started screaming about the danger his Pack was in.
The young man merely raised his free arm and took aim with the gun. The gun flashed as it fired, lighting up the area in a pale silver that bleached the color from Ziggy’s face and left his eyes seeming like passing shadows on his face. Then, the dark fell again, one of the headlights in front of them suddenly veered and crashed into the one next to it. Ziggy barely moved throughout it all.
Dillon watched the drones crash together in no small amazement and decided Ziggy wasn’t quite the waif he seemed. He’d still prefer it if Ziggy was inside the car. One of Ziggy’s legs moved from it’s position against the door and blindly nudged at his arm. “Will you calm down?” Ziggy yelled at him over the wind, already taking aim for another shot. Calm down? The other man wasn’t serious, was he? How was he expecting Dillon to calm down when he was barely in the car and machines were shooting at them?
Before Ziggy could take his next shot, a blast from one of the drones hit the ground near his tire. Ziggy flew forward and slammed into the roof with an oof; Dillon immediately latched onto the leg that had nudged him, holding it tightly to prevent Ziggy from being unseated. The young man didn’t even bother to regain his position before pivoting around to fire back at the drones behind them.
“Get back in the car!” He shouted, tugging at the leg in his grip. Ziggy remained where he was. “Ziggy, seriously!” he called. “Please!”
There was a brief pause then Ziggy slid back into the car with an enviable ease. The young man glared at him. “I was handling that.” He said. Dillon glared at him from the corner of his eye. “Well, I wasn’t.” He snarled before focusing his eyes back on the city that was slowly rising before them.
“What is with you?” Ziggy demanded.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to protect. Shut up and sit there. You have a promise to keep.” He ordered.
Ziggy watched him then said, softly, like he was finally beginning to realize how frazzled Dillon was, “We have promises to keep.”
Amara loved poetry, loved anything that rhymed, so he only had one answer. “And miles to go before we sleep.”
There as a brief, startled pause, then Ziggy threw his back and laughed, a rich deep sound that vibrated around the car. “Oh, I hope not. We’ll never be able to outrun them for miles. And it’s not even winter.” And that, right there, was why it was so obvious they resonated. He didn’t have to explain that kind of leap in conversation. He never would have to.
If they made it out of this alive.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the Barricade he had heard so much about rose from the shadows like a giant, nothing more than a mass of shadows against the star-lit sky. The magic he’d been given rose in him in response, uncalled for and unwanted. He couldn’t stop it though, had never been able to stop it. It flooded through him like the cold rage, only so much worse. It roared in his ears, blocked out everything else but this rising power. Something in him panicked, because he couldn’t figure out if Ziggy was still there. His Pack was gone. He tried to reach out towards where Ziggy had been but his hand wouldn’t move.
He was reaching that point where the only thing he’d be able to do was let the power go. Only this time, he knew the power wouldn’t be lashing out against his enemies; it would be at Ziggy, who, unfathomably, trusted him and was still there, had to still be there because he couldn’t lose his Pack again.
A hand clamped down on his wrist, a voice breaking through the pounding in his ears. Ziggy, he realized with a rush of relief. Ziggy was still here. “Damn you, I said leash it!” Ziggy shouted at him.
Ziggy’s will. Ziggy, who was Pack, who was equal because he resonated, never mind the almost. Ziggy who, whole unknowing, was the leash he needed to hold down this terrible thing in him. So many people forgot why almost all the Predator races were also Pack races. It was because it was easier for a Predator deep in the cold rage to yield to someone who was Pack; because it was easier to give the Pack the leash to their vicious temper. He shuddered back into the real world, gasping as the detail filtered back in.
Ziggy as watching him with wide eyes that were slowly losing the edge in favor of worry. “What the hell was that?” he demanded. Dillon would love to answer that but the Barricade towered above them and it occurred to Dillon that they had no way past it. “I don’t suppose you have a bomb.” He said to Ziggy.
“Why would I have a bomb?” Ziggy snapped.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He said. “Any plans?”
Before Ziggy could respond, part of the Barricade blasted off from the other side. There were people standing in the hole left and waving at them, wearing brightly colored suits that Dillon just knew was going to get them killed. They practically screamed ‘Here I am, shoot me now’. That didn’t stop Dillon from gearing towards them.
“See?” Ziggy said as they passed the group through the Barricade. “I told you the city would help.”
“Don’t celebrate yet.” Dillon said, aiming for the open gate in the city wall, and the veil of shimmering ruins that covered it. Ziggy went tense all over, eyes steely. “We’ll make it.” He said tightly. Dillon was honestly surprised to realize the man believed that.
Then they hit the ruin-wards. It felt like moving through a kind of goo as the wards wavered between letting them through or not. Ziggy’s hand was still clenched around his wrist, keeping him grounded and preventing the magic in him from rising in answer. Dillon knew, deep down, that if his magic rose, they would never get through. Dillon glanced over at Ziggy. The younger man was hunched in his seat, eyes clenched as the magic considered them. I made a promise. He thought at the ruin-wards as hard as he could. That I would get him to Corinth, so you are going to let us through.
There was a pause, then the power lifted from them, letting them glide safely behind the walls. Ziggy let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the seat, grip finally loosening around his wrist. “We made it.” He said.
Dillon stared out the windshield at the guards that hovered around carefully, waiting for the gate to close. They all had guns. “Yeah.” He agreed, though he didn’t share Ziggy’s enthusiasm. Ziggy raised his head at his tone and spotted the guards as well. He hesitated then reached for the door handle. “We can’t hide in here for forever.”
“Ziggy.” He said before Ziggy could open the door. “Leave the gun.” He said, nodding his head towards the gun Ziggy was still lightly gripping in one hand. Ziggy blinked at it like he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh.” He said, before flickering on the safety and letting it drop to the floorboard. Then he got out.
Dillon watched him face the guards with his hands raised from his sides, the same way he’d first faced Dillon. Finally he sighed and stepped out himself. It took a few moments, enough for him to move around the car to reach Ziggy, then the guns rose, all pointed at him. The only reason the men didn’t immediately fire was because the people with the colorful uniforms arrived, gate sealing behind them. There was a brief pause, then the one in red stepped forward. There was a brief gathering of power, then the red seemed to gather together and fade away. A normal man was left standing there with his arms crossed, wearing mismatched clothes that made Dillon realize they’d probably woken everyone here.
“What’s going on?” the man asked, eyes red enough to match the outfit gazing at them. Vampire, Dillon realized, and was almost relieved that his inability to identify race was something purely Ziggy and not because he’d forgotten how to do it.
“He feels like VENJIX, sir.” One of the guards said, gun still trained on him. Dillon didn’t react.
The red eyes flickered towards him briefly then widened in surprise. “That he does.” The man agreed, sounding shocked.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He told him since he was sure this man was in charge.
“We should just kill them.” Another of the guards said, eyes wide and spooked.
Them. Not him. Them; the man was including Ziggy. He plunged into the cold and stepped forward without thinking, growling deep in his throat.
“Dillon!” Ziggy shouted, voice a whip-crack, a leash. Dillon froze in place, muscles curled as he struggled to obey that will, despite the desperate need to tear apart the threat to his Pack. He compromised by stepping back, shoving Ziggy against the car, and stepping firmly in front of him. Ziggy sighed heavily, but didn’t move, which was more of a concession than his sister would have made.
“Sir?” the guard who’d threatened Ziggy asked, voice a squeak. The man didn’t answer, watching Dillon with consideration. Next to the Vampire, there was a flash from the one in gold, then there was an Asian, male Dea al Mon standing there, watching them with coolly amused eyes. “You threatened a Berserker’s Pack.” The Dea al Mon told the guard blandly. “Were you expecting a different reaction?”
The one in yellow looked at the Vampire. “Scott?” a female voice asked, muffled by the helmet she wore.
Scott continued to watch the new arrivals, then sighed and scrubbed one hand through his hair. “We’ll have to put you in Solitude at the jail until we can determine exactly what you are.” Scott informed him, looking almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I have a duty to protect these people.”
Dillon nodded. “I understand.” He said.
The Vampire hesitated then said. “I have to take him in as well.”
“He has done nothing wrong!” he said hotly, not moving from his place in front of Ziggy. Ziggy’s hand pressed into the small of his back, gaining his attention. “I’m with you.” Ziggy whispered into his shoulder. “That’s what I’ve done wrong.”
He turned to look at Ziggy slowly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Because of course Ziggy would be in trouble for being with him. It was obvious to everyone that he’d been tainted by VENJIX. There was no way Ziggy hadn’t known and they all knew that.
“You won’t be separated, I promise you that.” Scott continued. “But you both have to come with us.”
“I’m sorry.” He told Ziggy, ignoring Scott. Ziggy shrugged and looked at the Vampire. “Lead on.” He said, head raised high and moved towards them with an elegant grace that was amazing to watch. Dillon had no choice but to follow him.
Chapter 2
Title: Seven Steps from Humanity
Summary: AU VENJIX’s army wasn’t just machines. We could have handled machines. No. Someone had given VENJIX magic.
Rating: M
Pairings: Dillon/Ziggy, Scott/Summer, Gem/Flynn/Gemma, K/Tenaya
Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers or anything related to the franchise.
Status: In Progress
Notes: Please see my journal here for background information, common terms, warnings, and further disclaimers. Information on races now added.
Part One: The Beginning Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
7 Steps from Humanity
Part Two: The Pack
Chapter 1
VENJIX was a poison. It’s very presence withered the land. In places where it’s army used the twisted magics given to it, the land had quickly died. In the places far from any battlefields, the sky was always gray and only weeds grew; those places existed in a near-constant twilight. But near Corinth, near those true battlefields, there was very little that lived. All the plants and trees had died, the soil had dried into dust and blown away, and the sky had been scorched an ugly red. The entire east-coast had withered into a desert within a year of the VENJIX takeover.
Nothing survived in the Wastes for long. Even if you had the proper supplies to get through the desert, VENJIX drones were everywhere and there were machine factories every day’s drive apart. People thought the VENJIX Barricade was the difficult part; really, it was the desert that killed you.
Dillon had been in the Wastes for a month and a half by now, ever since he had escaped one of the factories. He’d been captured by VENJIX drones during the takeover, when he and his sister had been fleeing to Albyon. They’d almost made it. Then the city had fallen. Everything had been afire; there had been bodies everywhere. Dillon was a Predator, he’d been born for the battlefield, but thinking back to that day still gave him chills. Alone, he might have escaped. But Amara had been with him; for all her talents, his dear sister as still blind. There had been no way out.
Dillon had been born ready to die for those he loved; it was the gift and curse of the Berserkers. Sometimes, he thought that dying there, taking down as many drones as he could, would have been a kinder fate. The drones hadn’t bothered to kill them though. They had merely been knocked out. By the time Dillon had awoken, they were already in the VENJIX factory. He hadn’t known then what they were planning, only that every instinct in him was demanding he protect his sister. He had, to the best of his abilities; he’d gotten her out. But not himself. He’d lost any sense of time in there, but he was sure that had been at least a year ago. He had no idea what had happened to her after that. He hoped she had made it to Corinth, but he didn’t know.
Berserkers were warriors, born for battle. If Dea al Mon were the perfect hunters, Berserkers were the perfect soldiers. They didn’t fight, they protected; everything about them was tied into that vicious urge to protect the Pack in a way that was wholly Berserker. No other Pack was bound up in such a way. It was how they’d gotten the name; hurt a Berserker’s Pack and they went absolutely insane.
Amara was the only Pack he had and he didn’t even know where she was. That knowledge was like a poison in him, one that slowly ate away at him everyday.
He’d spent the time he had once he was free jumping from outpost to outpost, stealing supplies from the machines, slowly making his way to Corinth. He’d stolen a car once, a black Fury that he hadn’t let go of. It was one of the only things he still owned; the car and his key and watch that he’d gotten from his grandfather before the man had died. It was good car really, but the radio always went wonky. The twisted magics of the Wastes tended to fuzz the signal. Normally, it was a small compliant. But out here, he needed it. A message played constantly across the airwaves from Corinth, repeating the coordinates for the city. It was too easy to get lost out here, that signal tended to be the only thing that prevented him from going in circles.
He grimaced when the signal disappeared into static again and pulled the car to a stop. He sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wheel. He sat there for a few minutes, listening to the static, before finally shutting off the car and getting out. He had been out here for a month and a half; sometimes, he felt like he was going insane. He leaned back against the door. He needed to get to Corinth but…
But he’d been the machines’ lab rat. There were experiments he was still mentally blocking that had placed mechanical parts within his body, welded onto his bones. He was pretty sure they’d put something in his head to. He knew they’d given him magic. He tried never to use it, every time he did it made him sick, made him feel out of control for weeks afterward. Truth was, he wasn’t heading straight to Corinth because he wasn’t sure the ruin-wards would let him through.
“Excuse me.”
He jerked up, staring at the young man who was standing barely ten feet from him. Dillon should have noticed him long before now; a Berserkers situational awareness was what made them so dangerous, they knew exactly where everything was and how to use it as a weapon. Yet somehow, this young man had slipped right under his notice. The man smiled at him unsurely, arms raised from his sides in a show of peace. Dillon frowned at him, trying to get a hold of the man’s psychic scent. It was dark, a rich darkness that spoke of the demon kind. And yet…
He couldn’t identify race.
The realization rocked him. The scent was obviously demon kind but he couldn’t lock down an exact race. The scent went… fuzzy, whenever he tried. Not knowing a person’s race, especially one of the demon kind, was inviting trouble. He looked up, right into the man’s eyes- pale brown, not the gold or red of the demon kind-. It hit him like a blow.
Resonate.
Except, no, not really. Almost. The boy almost resonated, in a way that said something fundamental about the man had changed just enough so that he no longer resonated. Or perhaps Dillon was the one that had changed, there was no way to say. It didn’t matter. Perhaps in another time it would have, but it had been so long since Dillon had had anything resembling Pack that almost was good enough.
He was a slip of a man, honestly; Dillon was sure he would break him if he held too tightly. He was dirty and his face was burned from too many days out in the Wastes, but he didn’t hold the too thin look of someone who had spent the past year running from VENJIX drones. His hair was a curled mess, the same plain brown as his eyes. The only thing that gave any hint to his race was his ears, which were pointed, but that trait was exclusive to the woodland kin and more than likely just a hold-off from from a distant bloodline.
“Who are you?” he asked carefully.
“Ziggy.” The man said. “My name is Ziggy.” He paused and glanced at the car Dillon was still leaning against. “You headed for Corinth?”
“Where else?”
Ziggy nodded in agreement and looked back at him. “Can I come?” he asked. When Dillon didn’t say anything, he stepped forward and hedged. “I’d say we’re only about two week’s walk from Corinth, so you’d only have to put up with me for about a day or two.”
“You know where Corinth is?” he asked in surprise.
“Yeah.” A dark, self-deprecating smile slid across Ziggy’s face. “It’s a long story." Ziggy looked up at him again, almost hopeful. “I could tell you along the way?”
Dillon sighed, because the man almost resonated, almost, so there was no way he’d be able to leave him here. “Get in.” He ordered. He turned away when a wide, stunning smile slipped across the man’s face. He heard Ziggy take two steps forward then freeze abruptly, gasping. Dillon closed his eyes, not willing to turn around. He already knew what had caused the abrupt stop. Finally noticed it, eh boyo? He thought.
VENJIX was a poison, in the land and in the body and now it was splashed across his psychic scent for all to see. There was no hiding what he now was.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said blankly. Not that that had ever prevented any others from freaking.
There was a cold silence from behind him, not that he was expecting anything else. Well, perhaps he was expecting the man to run away. Then came the slow shift of feet over sand. Towards him.
“Alright.” Ziggy said carefully, moving towards the passenger side. Dillon watched him in surprise; Ziggy paused with his hand on the door and looked up at him. Ziggy smiled slightly, brown eyes warm, and ducked into the car. A slow smile slipped across Dillon’s face in answer. “Which way?” he asked as he got in as well and looked across at his passenger. Ziggy waved a hand to the left while he buckled up.
Ziggy was an odd companion. He sat in the seat next to him quietly, one hand out the open window as he tried to catch the air. He had hardly said a word since getting in but he didn’t seem uncomfortable with Dillon. His psychic scent was washing through the car, seeping quickly into the leather. Dillon had never found the demon kind psychic scents particularly attractive, but something about the rich darkness of Ziggy’s was oddly… appealing.
Dillon drummed his fingers against the wheel, watching from the corner of his eyes as Ziggy’s fingers slipped through the wind. “So. I believe you owe me a story.” He said.
Ziggy’s hand paused in the air, then thumped against the side of the car as he dropped it. “I’m from Corinth.” He said.
Dillon frowned. “What, you walked out of Corinth?”
“I was running actually.” Ziggy said in a voice that was too empty. Dillon glanced over at him to find he was staring at the side mirror, watching the ground pass beneath the wheels of the car. “There was an… incident.” Ziggy finally said after a long pause. “Something happened and I freaked. And, idiot that I am,” There was that bitter, self-deprecating smile again. “I ran.” He pulled his arm in and looked over at Dillon. “It really was stupid. There are places I could have gone, places I would have been safe. I was, uh, about two days out of Corinth when I calmed down enough to realize what I’d done. Needless to say, I freaked again.”
“No doubt.” Dillon said. Ziggy huffed next to him, sounding almost amused. Dillon glanced over at the man. “Is your name really Ziggy?” he asked.
“Sigmund, actually.” Ziggy said. “Sigmund Elijah Grover. I’ve never liked it. When I was young, I went by Elie. But my mother didn’t like that, so I changed it to Ziggy. She didn’t quite like that either.” Ziggy laughed briefly and looked over at him. “I just realized, I don’t know your name.”
Dillon looked back at him. “You make a habit of getting into cars with strangers?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
He laughed. When had he last laughed? Since before the war, at least, probably later. “Dillon. My name’s Dillon Kane.”
“Dillon.” Ziggy said slowly, like he was getting the feel of the name. Dillon shivered, because there was something very sexual about the way Ziggy rolled his name around on his tongue. He glanced over at the younger man. He hadn’t noticed before, had been too wrapped up in identifying the man’s race and enjoying that he had someone who was almost Pack with him after so long, but now that he was paying attention he realized just how sensual Ziggy was. It was written in the lines of his body, in how he leaned against the door, limbs in an sprawl that looked elegant without trying; it was in the slight tilt of his head that caused his hair to cast shadows across his face in mysterious, appealing patterns; it was in how he moved, because for however awkward he seemed standing still, he moved with a grace that drew the eye. Dillon was annoyed, not for the first time, that Berserkers were monogamous.
“So, Dillon,” Ziggy said. “What’s a Berserker doing all the way out here without a Pack?”
“Trying to find one.” He said. He gulped thickly and admitted. “I have a sister. It was just us before VENJIX attacked, so she’s all I have. We got separated during the war. I hope she made it to Corinth but I have no idea.”
There was a long pause. “That sucks.” Ziggy said emphatically.
Dillon smiled. “Yeah.” He agreed. He hesitated then sighed because he couldn’t not ask and he was honestly surprised he hadn’t before. “I’m sorry, this is going to sound rude. But what are you?”
Ziggy actually smiled. “We’ve been driving for three hours and you’re just now asking?” he asked, sounding amused. “Admittedly, I think of everyone I’ve met, you’ve lasted the longest in not asking.”
“You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?” he asked.
“Nope.” Ziggy answered, popping the ‘p’ in a way that was positively obscene.
“You’re annoying.” He said, though he didn’t really mean it.
“I get that a lot.”
The sun had long since set by the time they drove to a cliff that overlooked the City walls. They glowed in the half-moon light, the runes withering across the walls like blue snakes. It was a beautiful, rugged city, standing like sanctuary in the middle of the Wastes. Dillon had heard rumors from those he’d met, briefly, in the Wastes. They had spoken of Corinth like it was some holy place, sacred and protected. Dillon hadn’t thought very much of them at the time- they had tried to steal his car with no plans of taking him along-, had thought they were clinging to some stupid idea of a place to prevent themselves from going insane. But here, seeing the city standing strong in the middle of land that had been so obviously torn apart by war, it was easy to believe that the city really was something hallowed.
“When you’re inside,” Ziggy said next to him, quiet and almost sad. “You forget how lucky you are. Those walls, they start to feel like a birdcage. You forget they’re meant to keep the wolves out.” Ziggy gulped thickly then said. “We made it just in time. No one’s ever made it through the Barricade in broad daylight.”
“Anyone ever make it on the new moon?” he asked, looking over at him.
Ziggy smiled. “Not really, but no one talks about that.”
“That entire field is probably rigged with motion sensors and heat detectors.” Dillon pointed out. “VENJIX will know we’re here before we’re half-way across.”
“The city will send out helpers.” Ziggy assured. “We just have to keep moving until we make it through the ruin-wards.” Ziggy paused before saying what neither of them wanted them to. “If we get through the ruin-wards.”
Dillon stared at the city for a long moment. “Her name’s Amara.” He said. “My sister, her name is Amara. She’s a Siren and she’s been blind since she was seven. She’ll be nineteen by now.” He looked over at Ziggy, who was watching him with a frown. “You’re getting through those wards, I promise you that. But if I don’t make it through, promise me you will look for her.”
Ziggy watched him, eyes wide. Thanks to the robotics, Dillon could clearly make out the lines of his face, the way Ziggy’s mouth opened and closed unsurely. “If you don’t make it through, what are you going to do?”
“Keep looking for her. If she’s not out here, then she’s got to be in there, and I’ll know she’s safe.”
“You’ll be alone.” Ziggy said, sounding shocked. “You’re Pack race. You’re not meant to be alone.”
“Ziggy, let’s be serious.” He said calmly. “Even if I get through the wards, they’re not going to want me in that city.” He turned back to the wheel and put the car back into drive. Ziggy continued watching him as they sped down. Finally he said, a soft whisper in the wind. “I promise.”
He smiled slightly and nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
They sped across the desert towards the city, Dillon more glad than ever that the car he’d stolen was black so they better blended into the night. For the first time, he was also glad for the robotics that had enhanced his sight enough that he didn’t need the headlights to navigate the field around Corinth.
“Dillon.” Ziggy said, voice tight. Dillon glanced over at him and caught sight of the headlights racing towards them. VENJIX drones. An odd calm settled over him as his mind sped up, senses spreading to take in the whole of the battlefield. This, here, with Pack next to him, this was what Berserkers were born for. “I see them.” He assured calmly.
“Can we outrun them?”
“Them, yeah.” He said, then looked over at the lights approaching them from the front, intent on cutting them off. “Them, not so much.”
“Do you have a gun?” Ziggy asked. Dillon glanced over at him again, this time in surprise. “Can you hit them?”
“Watch me.”
Dillon sighed but reached blindly behind him, feeling around the backseat until he found the gun he rarely had to use. Ziggy grabbed it the minute he brought his hand back, unlatching his seatbelt and pulling himself out the open window. Dillon’s eyes widened and his calm broke as he lunged after the young man. “Get back in here, Ziggy!” he shouted.
Ziggy ignored him, settling on the door frame, one arm still inside the car and grasping at the roof for balance. Both of his legs were clamped against the door. If the car was rocked even slightly, Dillon could see no way for Ziggy to remain still. A single hit, and the younger man would go flying. Forget being hit, the recoil of the gun would knock him out of the car. “Ziggy!” he hissed again, this time with desperation as every instinct he had started screaming about the danger his Pack was in.
The young man merely raised his free arm and took aim with the gun. The gun flashed as it fired, lighting up the area in a pale silver that bleached the color from Ziggy’s face and left his eyes seeming like passing shadows on his face. Then, the dark fell again, one of the headlights in front of them suddenly veered and crashed into the one next to it. Ziggy barely moved throughout it all.
Dillon watched the drones crash together in no small amazement and decided Ziggy wasn’t quite the waif he seemed. He’d still prefer it if Ziggy was inside the car. One of Ziggy’s legs moved from it’s position against the door and blindly nudged at his arm. “Will you calm down?” Ziggy yelled at him over the wind, already taking aim for another shot. Calm down? The other man wasn’t serious, was he? How was he expecting Dillon to calm down when he was barely in the car and machines were shooting at them?
Before Ziggy could take his next shot, a blast from one of the drones hit the ground near his tire. Ziggy flew forward and slammed into the roof with an oof; Dillon immediately latched onto the leg that had nudged him, holding it tightly to prevent Ziggy from being unseated. The young man didn’t even bother to regain his position before pivoting around to fire back at the drones behind them.
“Get back in the car!” He shouted, tugging at the leg in his grip. Ziggy remained where he was. “Ziggy, seriously!” he called. “Please!”
There was a brief pause then Ziggy slid back into the car with an enviable ease. The young man glared at him. “I was handling that.” He said. Dillon glared at him from the corner of his eye. “Well, I wasn’t.” He snarled before focusing his eyes back on the city that was slowly rising before them.
“What is with you?” Ziggy demanded.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone to protect. Shut up and sit there. You have a promise to keep.” He ordered.
Ziggy watched him then said, softly, like he was finally beginning to realize how frazzled Dillon was, “We have promises to keep.”
Amara loved poetry, loved anything that rhymed, so he only had one answer. “And miles to go before we sleep.”
There as a brief, startled pause, then Ziggy threw his back and laughed, a rich deep sound that vibrated around the car. “Oh, I hope not. We’ll never be able to outrun them for miles. And it’s not even winter.” And that, right there, was why it was so obvious they resonated. He didn’t have to explain that kind of leap in conversation. He never would have to.
If they made it out of this alive.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the Barricade he had heard so much about rose from the shadows like a giant, nothing more than a mass of shadows against the star-lit sky. The magic he’d been given rose in him in response, uncalled for and unwanted. He couldn’t stop it though, had never been able to stop it. It flooded through him like the cold rage, only so much worse. It roared in his ears, blocked out everything else but this rising power. Something in him panicked, because he couldn’t figure out if Ziggy was still there. His Pack was gone. He tried to reach out towards where Ziggy had been but his hand wouldn’t move.
He was reaching that point where the only thing he’d be able to do was let the power go. Only this time, he knew the power wouldn’t be lashing out against his enemies; it would be at Ziggy, who, unfathomably, trusted him and was still there, had to still be there because he couldn’t lose his Pack again.
A hand clamped down on his wrist, a voice breaking through the pounding in his ears. Ziggy, he realized with a rush of relief. Ziggy was still here. “Damn you, I said leash it!” Ziggy shouted at him.
Ziggy’s will. Ziggy, who was Pack, who was equal because he resonated, never mind the almost. Ziggy who, whole unknowing, was the leash he needed to hold down this terrible thing in him. So many people forgot why almost all the Predator races were also Pack races. It was because it was easier for a Predator deep in the cold rage to yield to someone who was Pack; because it was easier to give the Pack the leash to their vicious temper. He shuddered back into the real world, gasping as the detail filtered back in.
Ziggy as watching him with wide eyes that were slowly losing the edge in favor of worry. “What the hell was that?” he demanded. Dillon would love to answer that but the Barricade towered above them and it occurred to Dillon that they had no way past it. “I don’t suppose you have a bomb.” He said to Ziggy.
“Why would I have a bomb?” Ziggy snapped.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.” He said. “Any plans?”
Before Ziggy could respond, part of the Barricade blasted off from the other side. There were people standing in the hole left and waving at them, wearing brightly colored suits that Dillon just knew was going to get them killed. They practically screamed ‘Here I am, shoot me now’. That didn’t stop Dillon from gearing towards them.
“See?” Ziggy said as they passed the group through the Barricade. “I told you the city would help.”
“Don’t celebrate yet.” Dillon said, aiming for the open gate in the city wall, and the veil of shimmering ruins that covered it. Ziggy went tense all over, eyes steely. “We’ll make it.” He said tightly. Dillon was honestly surprised to realize the man believed that.
Then they hit the ruin-wards. It felt like moving through a kind of goo as the wards wavered between letting them through or not. Ziggy’s hand was still clenched around his wrist, keeping him grounded and preventing the magic in him from rising in answer. Dillon knew, deep down, that if his magic rose, they would never get through. Dillon glanced over at Ziggy. The younger man was hunched in his seat, eyes clenched as the magic considered them. I made a promise. He thought at the ruin-wards as hard as he could. That I would get him to Corinth, so you are going to let us through.
There was a pause, then the power lifted from them, letting them glide safely behind the walls. Ziggy let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the seat, grip finally loosening around his wrist. “We made it.” He said.
Dillon stared out the windshield at the guards that hovered around carefully, waiting for the gate to close. They all had guns. “Yeah.” He agreed, though he didn’t share Ziggy’s enthusiasm. Ziggy raised his head at his tone and spotted the guards as well. He hesitated then reached for the door handle. “We can’t hide in here for forever.”
“Ziggy.” He said before Ziggy could open the door. “Leave the gun.” He said, nodding his head towards the gun Ziggy was still lightly gripping in one hand. Ziggy blinked at it like he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh.” He said, before flickering on the safety and letting it drop to the floorboard. Then he got out.
Dillon watched him face the guards with his hands raised from his sides, the same way he’d first faced Dillon. Finally he sighed and stepped out himself. It took a few moments, enough for him to move around the car to reach Ziggy, then the guns rose, all pointed at him. The only reason the men didn’t immediately fire was because the people with the colorful uniforms arrived, gate sealing behind them. There was a brief pause, then the one in red stepped forward. There was a brief gathering of power, then the red seemed to gather together and fade away. A normal man was left standing there with his arms crossed, wearing mismatched clothes that made Dillon realize they’d probably woken everyone here.
“What’s going on?” the man asked, eyes red enough to match the outfit gazing at them. Vampire, Dillon realized, and was almost relieved that his inability to identify race was something purely Ziggy and not because he’d forgotten how to do it.
“He feels like VENJIX, sir.” One of the guards said, gun still trained on him. Dillon didn’t react.
The red eyes flickered towards him briefly then widened in surprise. “That he does.” The man agreed, sounding shocked.
“I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He told him since he was sure this man was in charge.
“We should just kill them.” Another of the guards said, eyes wide and spooked.
Them. Not him. Them; the man was including Ziggy. He plunged into the cold and stepped forward without thinking, growling deep in his throat.
“Dillon!” Ziggy shouted, voice a whip-crack, a leash. Dillon froze in place, muscles curled as he struggled to obey that will, despite the desperate need to tear apart the threat to his Pack. He compromised by stepping back, shoving Ziggy against the car, and stepping firmly in front of him. Ziggy sighed heavily, but didn’t move, which was more of a concession than his sister would have made.
“Sir?” the guard who’d threatened Ziggy asked, voice a squeak. The man didn’t answer, watching Dillon with consideration. Next to the Vampire, there was a flash from the one in gold, then there was an Asian, male Dea al Mon standing there, watching them with coolly amused eyes. “You threatened a Berserker’s Pack.” The Dea al Mon told the guard blandly. “Were you expecting a different reaction?”
The one in yellow looked at the Vampire. “Scott?” a female voice asked, muffled by the helmet she wore.
Scott continued to watch the new arrivals, then sighed and scrubbed one hand through his hair. “We’ll have to put you in Solitude at the jail until we can determine exactly what you are.” Scott informed him, looking almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I have a duty to protect these people.”
Dillon nodded. “I understand.” He said.
The Vampire hesitated then said. “I have to take him in as well.”
“He has done nothing wrong!” he said hotly, not moving from his place in front of Ziggy. Ziggy’s hand pressed into the small of his back, gaining his attention. “I’m with you.” Ziggy whispered into his shoulder. “That’s what I’ve done wrong.”
He turned to look at Ziggy slowly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Because of course Ziggy would be in trouble for being with him. It was obvious to everyone that he’d been tainted by VENJIX. There was no way Ziggy hadn’t known and they all knew that.
“You won’t be separated, I promise you that.” Scott continued. “But you both have to come with us.”
“I’m sorry.” He told Ziggy, ignoring Scott. Ziggy shrugged and looked at the Vampire. “Lead on.” He said, head raised high and moved towards them with an elegant grace that was amazing to watch. Dillon had no choice but to follow him.
Chapter 2