"Fucked, innit?" Will paced while one of Handsome Bill's medics tended to Stuart. "This whole thing is fucked."

"Sure as shit," Stuart said.

"His fuckin' wife? Dead wife, fuck. That wanker went too far."

"That wankers our boss, only fucker dat took us in."

"He's a bloody madman, Stuart!" Will shouted.

"Who ain't?"

"Dunno." Will sat down on the bench next to Stuart while the medic bandaged up his bruised ribs. "He spared you, eh?"

"Fuck'd if I know."

"I saw it, Stuart. He pulled back, but he didn't kick."

"Fuckin' tossed me onto the bloody bleachers," Stuart grumbled.

"Coulda done worse."

"Aye."

"Where the fuck has Vera been, anyway?" She was never far from things when shit hit the fan, a wily one.

"Oh," Stuart fell quiet.

"You seen her?"

"I, err, ow, you fucker." Stuart spat at the medic, avoiding Will’s question. "Be more careful."

"Sorry, Mr. Farrington," the medic said.

"Damned right you're sorry."

"Stuart," Will said. "You seen her, though?"

"Aye," he said. "You ain't gonna like this, brother... Branch locked her up, down by Crusher and—"

"Fucking poofter," Will raged.

"Don't do—"

His words fell upon deaf ears, Will storming off towards the makeshift prison that he knew was down the hall from the entrance to the car park. He had only been there once before, but the cold, sterile laboratory was burned into his mind, as were the cold cells just behind it. There weren't any prisoners at the time, but he had heard that was where Branch kept the Crusher when he wasn't popping heads like grapes inside of the arena for the delight of the audience.

Things were calm throughout that basement level. Most of the tower guards were out in the arena still or tending to Branch. That prick. Vera was right. Branch wasn't a trustworthy person. Everyone served as a pawn for him to toy with. Bringing a man's dead wife back to haunt him felt wrong. If Branch had a problem with Gabriel, he could have just killed him, executed him, and made up a reason. Everyone would have cheered it on, no matter what. He was the letter of the law. For all intents and purposes, he was the last living god. He was the last living god, and Will had grown weary of the worship that he required.

"Mr. Farrington, sir, everything is on lockdown until—" The lone guard in front of the prison held out his hand, Will bowling into him.

"There's no time for that." Will pushed forward, refusing to listen to some mealy mouthed guard.

"But, I have orders to—"

"There is chaos out there. Why aren't you helping?"

"I have to guard the prisoners," the guard said.

"They are in bloody cages, you moron."

"Oh, well..."

"It's fuckin' chaos out there, mate. They need you."

"Fuck," the guard gave a nod to Will and tore off down the hallway, Will chuckling under his breath at how daft they all could be. Everyone was on edge at all times, knowing that Branch's affections only went so far. Branch'd take an interest in you, find you fascinating, sort of like a new toy and want you around until the moment he found someone new to occupy his thoughts. Then he moved onto them and left you wondering what you did. Vera had warned him so many times, but Will thought he knew differently. He didn't think that he was under Branch's spell, just that he was just that damned good in the arena. Now he wondered how many of his fights were fixed without his knowledge and what kind of symbol he was supposed to be for all of those people.

That was then, though, this is now. Things were crumbling. Branch's castle was showing signs of wear and tear. The people were seeing through the veneer of the god; he was human, all it took was one man to dare thumb his nose at him. That could've been Will, instead it was TK Gabriel. That stung a bit, but there wasn't anything that he could do about it now.

"Will?" Vera's voice rang out from inside of the lab, a twinge of desperation present. "Is that you?"

"Vera," he called, his heart skipping a beat while he rounded the corner. There she was, disheveled and sullen behind a set of bars inside of a cage, looking like the puppy he found on the street when he was a boy. His thoughts flashed back to when he had initially found her inside of that package truck, how she was full of fire and a desire to survive and how none of that was in her eyes anymore. "What're you doin' here? Stuart told me and..."

"Just shut up already, Will." She moved towards the cage door, gripping onto the bars, her fingers turning white. The room stank of desperation and depression.

"You'd think bein' locked up would cut that tongue."

"Then you'd be wrong." They were both playing up their usual banter, but it felt empty to Will this time out. The words were there, he knew that much, but they didn't want to come out. She was right, she always was right, but this didn't seem like the time or the place. He needed to get her the fuck out of there.

"I gotta find something to break that lock, get you outta there and—"

The sound of a low rumble behind him made his skin crawl, him freezing in place at the recognition. It couldn't be, could it? Was this where they kept him? Were they keeping his dear, sweet Vera in the same room as.... no. Will turned, only to see the Crusher slumped over in a cell, a placid vision of a monster unlike he'd ever seen him before. The Crusher was supposed to be Will's endgame, the battle to end all battles, the great antagonist to his heroic story of surviving the wasteland. Yet, there he was inside of a cage, staring up at him with his sad, brown eyes. There was pain in his eyes, a pain and sorrow that reflected what he was feeling on the inside.

"My god..."

"You know Demoreo already," she said.

"But, that's... how?"

"This was your big baddie, wasn't it? There he is."

"He... he is just a big puppy?"

"He's a man, Will. This is what Branch did to him. He's not all rage and destruction, he's just a man like you that was trying to do the right thing for his family," she explained while Will stepped forward towards the cage, staring down at the beast that he knew as the Crusher, seeing him as the man that Vera had called Demoreo. There he was, pitiful in stature, afraid of the world around him, all curled up in the fetal position. "This is what he got in return."

"Why the fuck doesn't he just... I don't know, rage up and break them fuckin' bars?"

"You think that he hasn't?"

"Why wouldn't he? Fuckers a monster, he has destroyed anything in his path."

"He has. Multiple times. I was down here the last time that he broke free. They've done so much to him, there isn't much left of him."

"I... just…" Will rested against the metal bars and looked down at the subdued monstrosity of a man. "I thought he was this mighty beast, this killer, that he'd be in some giant iron cell surrounded by turrets an' shit."

"This is Branch's reality, Will. Everything about him is an illusion, an image that he casts to fool everyone into thinking that he's some man-turned-god, some great leader. It's smoke and mirrors."

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered under his breath. Of course, like always, Vera was right. That was becoming a mantra for Will. Demoreo looked up at him, his dark brown eyes piercing through him just like the hound that he had as a boy. A part of him couldn't help but feel deflated. This was supposed to be the monster that set him free, the last encounter at the end of his quest for immortality. Yet, like the rest of it, everything was carefully crafted to appear more than it was. The world had ended, and that wretch was just as much of a victim as he was. "I shoulda listened to ya."

"What else is new? Then again, I should've listened to myself, maybe I wouldn't be in here."

"Why the fuck are you in there?" He asked, still transfixed by the malformed man before him.

"I kept a journal of all the interactions that I had with Demoreo in my time here. They never cared much about him or really guarded him before. I'd come in here and we'd talk. He'd write as much as he could for as long as he could. A few weeks ago, it stopped. He lost everything. He's still in there, somewhere, but they've done so many things to his mind at this point, I just don't know. I had to do something, Will."

"What'd you do?"

"His wife and his boy live here, up on the 15th floor. I brought them that notebook. They deserve to know what happened to him."

"You mean they didn't?"

"No," she said. "Branch told them that he died, put them up in a suite, gave her some meaningless job. That was that."

"How could someone do that..." Will thought, trailing off and not feeling the need to finish his thought aloud. They both knew what he was thinking. The Crusher wasn't some beast, some creation of the wasteland that was there to mindlessly drink from the skulls of men. He was just another captive of Branch and this whole fucked up world that he created. The Crusher was a man, a broken man, and his Vera had tried to show him that, had tried to fix that and right the wrongs.

"That's why I'm here, Will," she whispered. "Because I wanted them to know."

"I don't get it," he said. "How'd that get you tossed into the clink? If he's so proud of what he's done to this bloke, why the bullshit?"

"Control. I did something that Branch couldn't control. It's all a part of his grand illusion. The Crusher was the uncontrollable beast that was under his control. That's what mattered, not that he is Demoreo, a broken man that Branch did the most harm to."

"Fuck it," Will said. "I'm gettin' you outta there and we're screwin' outta here."

"No," she said. "I have to stay for now."

"You hear what's goin' on out there? Gabriel attacked Branch. Everything is chaos. They won't notice a fuckin' thing."

"Will, just trust me on this, alright? We could act now, but that would just be us escaping. These people deserve to know, they deserve to live their lives without Branch's control."

"So what, then? We fuckin' wait? We let this madness continue. What if he does that to me?" He pointed down at Demoreo, who let out a load moan.

"We wait and we hold out hope."

"Hope? We need to fuckin' run, lass."

"Will, I'm glad that you are seeing this, but you need to be patient. You are important to Branch still, we need to take advantage of it."