People always used to muse about how much the world would change with the fall of civilization. Let me let you in on a little secret. Just between us, it really doesn’t. Not for most of us. Sure, things went a lot wonky after the Event. People were scared from all the explosions and whatnot, and scared people do lots of shit they probably wish they hadn’t. But then, after that? Things sort of returned to normal. In the stead of the government, the gangs took control of different areas, keeping them safe and orderly. One gang was even primarily composed of some of the old police department, but that’s not the point of this story. Or, I guess it sort of is, actually. It just isn’t our area. Once they’d done that, the rest of us returned to living our lives. Well, those of us who could, did. Those who couldn’t found new lives for themselves.
Hell, now I’m not one of them, but I know people who say life got better, easier, even more civilized after the fall. These tend to be the people oppressed by the civilization of the past. The poor, the forgotten, the feared. Because, one thing the end of the world does, in all earnesty, is bring people together. After the whole initial chaos, that is. When someone’s safety relies on their neighbor keeping them safe, then trusting and supporting their neighbor becomes a top priority. Other feelings of the past either are pushed out of the way, or cause them to go elsewhere. Either way, life gets better.
For my part, life is basically the same. I live in the same apartment. Once crappy, now it’s pretty great in comparison to the nearby parts of the city that are literally on fire. Still not sure why those crazies in the next district over maintain that wall of fire. Like anyone is organized and gives enough of a shit to try expansion. Well, anyone except those aforementioned cops who see themselves as the legitimate government, but they’re on the far side of a few big forces, so I really don’t pay that much attention to them. I get up around the same time as I used to. Do the same job I did in the day in the same warehouse it was back before the whole end-of-the-world thing. Then I go back to my apartment, hang out with my neighbors some, and rest and repeat. To be honest, the big thing that’s changed is, without the technological infrastructure in existence anymore, I hang out with the rest of my apartment more and spend slightly less time in my room hanging out with friends in far off places. Beyond that, things are the way they always have been.
Or at least, they normally are. Then days happen like today. Big bossman calls me into his office. I say office, it’s more like a command center. That surprises me, because normally it’s pretty office-like. I head over to him, as he stares at some map of the city. “What’s up, hoss?”
“I told you, stop calling me that, Jack,” Cedric complains.
I feign offense. “Oh, but calling me that’s okay?” I’m allowed to be a little shit occasionally. My job is too important for him to pop off at little things. It’s just a line I’ve learned to walk.
“It’s literally your name, so yes,” Cedric replies, then shakes his head. “But that’s neither here nor there. Some shit’s going down to the north, so I can’t send any of my guys for the delivery.”
“Shit. Without the supplies the bar gives us, we’re gonna be up to our ears in unhappy folks.”
“Exactly why we’re still making the delivery. I just can’t send any of my guys.”
I shake my head. “I hate you.”
“I know. Now, grab the cart and the materials and get going as soon as possible.” Cedric smiles and waves. “If it makes you feel any better, I need to figure out a way to outflank and outmaneuver a literal former general.”
I smile. “It does. And she was a Brigadier General, if I remember correctly. That barely counts as a general. You’ve totally got this, hoss.” I get the heck out the door as I finish the statement. To be fair, I do kinda mean it. Cedric is pretty good at this. I’d say we’re probably gonna lose and cede some territory, but lose a lot less than they were trying to take.
I head down to my lab with the cart. My team is waiting for me. “What’s wrong, Jack?” Giselle asks. She’s my head chemist and second in command. Pretty brilliant person, I couldn’t have come up with half the insane shit I’ve come up with if she weren’t here.
“Evidently, we’re at war. Have our people load up the cart, I need to grab a suit.”
She cocks her head. “Cedric is sending you out there, like the old days? Is he dumb?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Not to be insulting, but you’re a weak idiot who’s more likely to get yourself shot than actually finish the job. Even fully outfitted.”
“You worry too much,” I say as I head inside. She gestures for the cart to be loaded and follows me in. I continue, “Besides, Me and Kell have come up with some new shit for the mix.”
“Have you tested this new mix?” she asks.
I strip down and start to pull on the skintight suit. “To make sure it isn’t fatal? Yeah. To see if it does what we want it to do? Let’s call it a field test.”
She sighs. “Fine, but take some of the old mix with you. Just in case.”
“Aw, you’re worried about me. That’s sweet.”
“Without you, I’d have to deal with Cedric and that whole gang personally, and that sounds miserable.”
“Thanks for caring,” I say as I stab the syringe style injectors attached to the suit into my neck, arms, and legs. I attach the canisters of the new mix to the machine on my lower back, then grab a bag. “See, I’m taking the old, dumb, unfun mix too,” I tell Giselle as I put the old canisters in the bag. “Speaking of, did you make sure to include the new sample?”
“Of course, I remember the plan. Don’t die out there, alright?” she says.
I smile. “Die? I survived the apocalypse. I’m immortal,” I joke back as I head back out to the cart. It’s all loaded up with our lovely drugs. Getting in, I turn the engine on, hear the quiet whine, and set out across the city.
To go from our corner of the world to the Bar, I had one of three choices. Well, really two choices, because there’s no chance I’m heading through even a sliver of Scourge territory without an escort. The first bit was easy enough. The Ruthless Angels are, while not necessarily allies, reliable trading partners. So they wave our cart through the border without trouble. They won’t do anything that might slow their own shipments of drugs. Their territory, however, doesn’t actually border the Apocabar’s territory. It borders the Scourge and Staffer’s Union in the bar’s direction.
Which, of course, means I zig into Staffer’s Union’s territory. They aren’t our trading partner. One of those insular types. That means, however, that they don’t really care so long as I don’t enter their territory. Stick to the DMZ areas, they won’t bug me. I stick to their side of the border when driving near the Scourge border, but otherwise I drive without worry in the borderland. From here, I’ve got two choices. The direct route and the less direct route. The direct route saves about an hour from the trip. It also takes me straight through Bulldog territory. While not scourge levels of insane, Bulldog Association is a rather violent group who will almost certainly attack me if they catch me. On the other hand, I could continue skirting the border to the next area and cut through 11th Bandits territory instead. They’re less violent, but it’ll take longer and if they catch me there is a chance they take the haul. It’s right there in their name. Which would make this excursion nothing more than a waste of my time. I don’t like wasting time, so I choose violence.
I continue along the border a bit past the beginning of Bulldog territory before I start cutting through. It’s not to save any time, if anything it adds like a block to the drive through this area. But I suspect the border with the Scourge to be heavily guarded in case a random crazy comes across to cause trouble. An extra block of risk is worth avoiding those guards. And, for that matter, the risk of that random crazy coming by at the same time as me.
I make it most of the way through when they spot me. A single patrol. Two men, armed with pistols and riding on scooters. They shout for me to stop and, using the crossbar of the scooter to brace for aiming, they ready themselves to fire.
I press a button on my suit’s machine. It starts to pump. The feeling hits me like a freight train. But in a good way. Like a shit ton of adrenaline combined with the belief that I can do anything and the analysis to back that shit up. Bullets are too rare outside Comish territory for these idiots to risk firing without being certain they will hit. I just need to figure out a way to keep them uncertain. I glance at the mirror. They’re both righties. Aiming to the right while maintaining control would be awkward for them. First turn will have to be right. I glance down at the map. The moment takes an eternity as I figure out a route through the streets that should keep me turning enough to prevent being shot. Flooring it and jerking the wheel, the cart lurches away to the right.
The chase takes us through the alleys and walkways of this part of the city. They remain hot on my tail, but never have time to line up a good shot. Or, almost never. One alley was just slightly longer than it appeared on the map. I could feel the aim on me. Checking the mirror, I saw the finger begin to squeeze. Jerking the wheel, I pull the brake and spin the cart. The gun fires. It passes cleaning through the open side of the cart as I complete the half spin and shift into reverse, once again flooring it. I make it out of the alley and turn once more, shifting back into drive and speeding away at the cart’s admittedly slow pace.
The scooter riding gangsters fall off well before I reach the border. They’re sensible, at least. The moment I can no longer see them in the mirrors for a solid ten seconds, I turn off my pump. Knowing the crash is coming, I make sure to pass into Apocabar territory well before it hits.
The Bar’s territory is not particularly big. It’s actually kind of small, compared to a lot of the other nearby regions. It is, however, tied for the most stable border in all the city. Tied with the weirdos who light their border on fire. And they don’t even appear to guard it. But, after a few disastrous attempts by their neighbors to take over blocks, the bosses nearby have learned better than to mess with the bar and its region. I drive through the territory towards the bar.
I reach the Apocabar proper when the crash hits. The crash, as always, is miserable. Like every individual muscle in my body is physically exhausted, and somehow my brain is too. Kell and I had hope that this new mix would be slightly less awful on this end. It isn’t. You really don’t know exhausted until you feel incapable of moving your fingers and toes because those muscles and ligaments refuse to respond without a noticeable delay. Taking the cart up to the bar’s back door, I knock politely. The door opens, a woman about my age standing staring. Waiting for me to say something. “Delivery for Zach, compliments of Cedric Jones.”
The woman shakes her head and sighs as she gestures to people behind her. “What’s with the weird outfit?”
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