MAD

chvpter 2

So even though my family lives in one of Michigan Duncan's shitty little estates, Haven is as much my father's as it is Akimitsu Tanaka's.

I look at the lights reflecting off the clouds again, shifting the gun bag higher on my shoulder as we run.

I need to stop thinking about Dad's politics... I just get angry when I dwell. I can't believe I'm related to the bastard. I can't believe I'm the asshole who has to inherit his empire now that my big, noble brother decided to sneak out the back door and run away to the army.

Tokyo is a bigger traitor than me in my father's eyes, but I don't blame my brother for enlisting. The way I see it, Tokyo had the balls to chase a life he deserved, and I'm proud of him for it... even if he's working for the same army that put us here. Even if he's failed to make contact for the last four and a half years.

"Come," I point down a dark road, and Score follows in a lazy jog, both of us huffing gusts of cold into the night. Ahead the Ghoul territory line comes into view, and I smile through my ragged breathing. The further we get from the Haven the easier it is to breathe.

"There's always new graffiti," He remarks as we move quickly, not bothering to check for soldiers this far up the border.

Gravel crunches underfoot as we prowl through the barbwire ridden minefield; I trail my glare from shadow to shadow. "I like the graffiti in Holders Bay better though." I murmur. In Holders Bay more people have eSight, like Score and I, so there's digital graffiti everywhere.

Paintings of Ghoul Eyes and Yakuza Tora litter the rubble like poppies on a field. The street is filled with murals of the Unfinished War or the genesis of Lake Darling when we were stricken with the two deadly plagues.

You can always tell the difference between a M.A.D hospital or a D.V.B hospital... I curl my lip in disgust when I pass a chilling depiction: a scrawny man holding his entrails in his stomach, his face alive with ecstasy. The artist made his hair long and shaggy and transcribed OUR NEW JESUS across his chest.

That's a M.A.D hospital.

"Fuckin' grim, isn't it." He gestures past 'OUR NEW JESUS' to another hospital painting—but this one is filled with sick bodies all lying in a row. Each corpse died with ghoulish red eyes because that's the tell-tale symptom of D.V.B, opaque red eyes. The disease inspired the Ghoul logo.

D.V.B hit right after M.A.D, but it's the world's biggest killer since Covid-19.

"You think that's the disturbing one?" I begin, but then I stop right in my tracks. "Fuck is that?" Jagged red writing—the Yakuza Tiger slashed over top of the Ghoul territory-tag.

THE SOLARS ARE OURS.

Score's features drop, "Solars? Like solar panels?" He screws his nose up, "How the fuck did anyone get Solars?"

"If they did, it'll mean war," I mutter.

...

We scale the innards of Moaners-Tilt, an abandoned wreck that fell a few years ago. Score creeps up the slanted pillars and beams that used to support the old parking complex.

Moaners-Tilt makes me uncomfortable. It's full of memories and Ghosts... but we have to use it tonight.

I grab a corrugated iron rod sticking out of a concrete pillar, using it to hoist myself high, but then I realise the red rust is wet and I flinch. Is it blood?

Panic grips me so I hurry to the next beam, extending my palm into a patch of moonlight where the rust marks reveal nothing but dirt.

Paranoid.