Born Savage

Prologue

“When enough people come together, then change will come and we can achieve almost anything. So instead of looking for hope—start creating it.”

—Greta Thunberg

Freedom City, Zenith

Rage

I turned in a full circle, almost completely unaware of the crowd roaring in appreciation of the event about to unfold. The people living in the domed city hadn’t been allowed to choose whether to be in attendance. Being here had been mandated as was every other aspect of their worthless lives.

They were no more free than anyone living outside the protected walls made of steel and heat-resistant armored glass shielding the inhabitants from nuclear rain and vicious predators knocking on their doors.

At least I had the freedom to choose who and what I believed in. That didn’t include a brutal king using violence and threats to keep his flock under control.

I took a deep breath, eyeing the master of ceremonies, the king himself.

Along with his wife, the queen and his children.

They had the best seat in the house. Although I had to believe the prisoners peering down from the hundreds of glass-fronted cells in the round colosseum would argue theirs was even better.

They had a front row seat to every bloody battle held under the guise of gifting freedom, the games their only real entertainment allowed during their incarceration. But soon, if they were lucky, they’d be invited to participate in the highly coveted game called Exile.

A battle to the death, winner takes all. That was if you believed being tossed beyond the gates of protection, forced to fend for your life against radiation-damaged humans and genetically altered beasts was winning.

While I hadn’t become a prisoner by choice but by demand, I had no intention of losing nor did I care about what occurred after the battle was won.

The only thing that mattered was getting close to the king, his nod of approval in personally releasing the thick steel collar around the winner’s neck legendary.

It was as close to being alone with the man as anyone other than those closest to him would ever achieve.

The inmates were already pounding on the glass, the noise level in the arena creating an intense environment.

Mine was merely the first fight of the day, the two men captured with me waiting for their turn in the hallowed light. My soldiers, men I could trust implicitly. Men who would never consider betraying one of their own. Their appearance would come into play only minutes from now.

I took another turn riling the audience, coming to a halt directly in front of the king’s royal throne.

With a nod of respect that wasn’t real, I threw up my arms to entice the crowd while staring the man in the eyes.

In my hands were weapons: one sword, one club. They were the all the weapons I needed.

He was heartless, cold and cruel, enjoying the act of torture more than that of death itself. While he was indeed powerful, the years of building an army of monstrous men keeping him and his family completely protected, I was a dangerous killer disguised as nothing but a soulless beggar.

The king’s eyes lit up and he stood, taking a deep breath while scanning the crowd. So pleased with himself and the kingdom he’d created on the backs of those before him, their blood a river of deceit.

With a single nod, the two barbarians chosen for exterminating me advanced. They were true Savages, their DNA altered to make them killing machines.

However, I knew their weaknesses.

The fuckers didn’t stand a chance.

I waited where I was, staring into the eyes of the king until very slowly, the corners of my lip upturned in defiance. His stare was equally harsh and when I stood much taller than his five-foot ten-inch frame, I could see the first glint of fear in his black eyes.

Good. He should fear me and all those who stood in opposition of his tyranny.

The Savages were only feet away when I finally turned, wasting no time swinging both weapons. Swing after swing, I purposely barely nicked either one, offering them comfort they were about to win.

I did wonder what their prize would be should they best one of their own. But did they know I’d been created in their likeness, only more capable than they could understand?

“Ooohhh!” the crowd jeered when I was knocked down, some on their feet so they wouldn’t miss the crowning blows.

Only I had no intention of staying down long. As soon as they were close, I struck both, spearing the gut of one while bashing the head of the other. Blood splattered across my face, warm and inviting, the stench of copper igniting the fire deep within.

The game was all but over. I yanked out the sword, the Savage stumbling backward as the other struggled to his feet. I lifted the blade high in the air, taking another few seconds to enjoy the view of the monsters clawing at the glass. Then I brought the sword down, chopping off an arm. Then a leg.

All while smashing the club against the other Savage’s face and shoulders, enjoying how he dropped to his knees, hovering as if between life and death.

The crowd was suddenly silent, every person on their feet. I wiped blood and brains from my face before lifting my weapons toward the open arena once again. Neither were dead as was the requirement, but there was nothing wrong with obtaining crowd interaction.

With a heavy stomp of their boots, the storm of anger and joy flowed through the arena, thousands cheering while others were uncertain how to react.

Even King Washburn was on his feet, gripping the railing before him. He didn’t quite know what to make of me.

He’d learn soon enough.

As I turned, I did so with all the pomp and circumstance due the moment. After that, I issued the killing blows.

And the crowd went wild.

A victory lap was deserved, which I did with a smile on my face. When I passed the open doorway, I glanced at the two contestants waiting their turn.

The smile remained, their nods in approval as well as acknowledgment they were ready.

Another game, only one in which we controlled the rules.

I returned to the spot in front of the king, waiting for his pardon, granting me life. As he sauntered forward, I sensed the queen looking on with curiosity. Perhaps she was wondering where she’d seen me before. Well, I did have that kind of face.

As the king approached, I gave into the protocol, lowering my head as if I gave a damn about him or his stolen kingdom.

“You did very well,” he stated, studying me as one would do a bothersome rat. When I said nothing, he moved behind me, unlocking the shock collar. “You are well liked, an asset. What say you that instead of exiling you from my kingdom, I provide you with an opportunity to serve me.”

“Doing what?” I gritted out, keeping my voice low.

“Protection detail. I could use a man with cunning and brains instead of the mindless twits serving me now. You would be provided with your own quarters, and an occasional concubine for your loyalty.”

Concubine.

Women were nothing but objects in his kingdom, shiny possessions that had value because of their beauty and nothing else. The man was a true pig. I curtailed a smile from the thought.

Once the collar was free, I took a deep breath and waited until the great monarch returned to standing in front of me.

As I lifted my head once again, I finally allowed a smile.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for, the gravitational pull that had filled my nightmares, fueled my need for revenge.

The moment when the past and the future collided, presenting a reminder that with all acts of treachery, there were consequences. No matter how long I had to wait.

In locking eyes with his, in sharing with him a closer look at the man I’d become, I could slowly see the conflict of recognition.

A perfect invitation for what was about to occur. “Liberty is never more than one generation away from extinction.”

A private thought shared between friends, a private moment of discussion between colleagues, and a memory that would only be known by a single surviving member of a family thought dead and buried.

As hoped, his reaction was slow.

Mine wasn’t.

With a single step backward, I raised my sword.

“For my father.”