REVISED STEEL CITY

What once was a steel city is nothing more than a wasteland. Buildings had been reduced

to piles of ash and rubble. The beautiful view of hope it used to give to millions was now a view

of terror, warning those of the future what the past had done. A yellow sky dawned the earth

once the nuclear winter had ended. Light shined down on the once thriving and lively city to

reveal shadows of people on the street and remnants of walls. A shadow of what used to be. A

husk.

23 laid on his hammock in the barracks and stared at the rough cloth ceiling. He had dark

circles under his eyes from multiple nights of no sleep while being on watch. After 4 days he had

the chance to sleep again; yet he could not. His mind was blank, and his heart wasn’t racing. He

was calm and collected as he was taught to be. But 23 was unable to close his eyes and rest.

He got up from his hammock, swung his feet over the side, and slid on his boots. He

didn’t bother lacing them since he wasn’t going far, but he did grab his coat before he left. It was

an old and tattered chestnut brown duster. It was littered with burn marks, holes, and tears. He

was offered a new one by multiple different teachers throughout the years, but 23 refused. That

coat has been the only thing consistent in his life in recent years.

The coarse and dry dirt cracked ever so slightly with each step he took. 23 swung the flap

of the barracks tent to the side and headed towards the washroom. Taking off his coat and putting

it under him, he bent over the water trough. He scooped water with his hands and then splashed
his face, watching the dirty water fall back in, which caused small waves to spread throughout

the trough.

As the ripples faded from the water, he gazed at himself. These past eight years have

been unforgiving. He had a rough shadow of facial hair, scars lining the inside of it. He couldn’t

tell what was from fighting and what was shaving mishaps. 23’s dirty blond hair was pulled back

into a loose ponytail, using a piece of string to keep it held up. He looked at his hands that

gripped the metal edge. They looked like snakeskin; they were dry and caked with dirt as well.

Scars lined his hands, with bruises on his knuckles to compliment them.

23 stood up and shook the dirt off his coat and patted the dirt off his jeans. He draped the

duster over his shoulders and walked back to the barracks. As he took off his shoes and jacket, he

could feel fatigue hitting him. He laid on his stomach with his head cranked to the left. he began

to fall asleep, he thought of home. His family, his friends. He thought about how he lost all those

things. All that was left for him was this compound.

23’s generation did not get to feel the luxury of peace. The Traitors had risen again

outside the walls of the Steel City. 23 had no one to help him survive, he had no one to raise him.

At this point in his life, he didn’t even have a name. He did whatever he could to live: he stole,

he conned, he hid, and he fought. As time went on, he had drawn too much attention to himself.

The enforcers caught him eventually and he was presented a choice. He could pay back everyone

he had wronged; he could try to become an enforcer to get a pardon for what he had done, or he
could die. With no money and no desire to die, he was taken to the Academy. He was below the

age of entry to apply by two years, but he was exempt from it due to his situation.

When he arrived, he was assigned the number 23 for the exam and was asked by the

proctor for a name to be put down alongside it. He told the proctor to just put down 23. People

had taken note of 23 at the entrance exam for the Academy. Having no education, he barely

passed the written section but excelled in the physical section despite his small frame. The final

part of the exam was combat, everyone versus each other. The targeting against 23 was obvious.

People either saw him as an easy target due to their developmental differences from him being

younger or held a grudge against him for something he did that got him where he is right now.

He held his own for a while but was eventually defeated by the other contestants and beaten

while he was down. The proctors of the exam saw his potential though and was still admitted

despite his overwhelming loss against the other contestants.

23 woke up in the infirmary days after the exam finished. There was barely any light in

the room; or perhaps his eyes were still swollen. From what he could see, the infirmary was just

cots filled with teenagers and tattered hand knit sheets between them. 23 could feel that he had

bandages on nearly every inch of his body. He tried to lift up his head but had a searing pain

course down his spine when he tried, causing him to scream in pain, bright white flashed as he

lost consciousness.

Loud banging rang throughout the barracks at an earlier time than usual, signaling everyone

asleep to get out of bed. 23 rubbed the sweat out of his eyes as he sat up in his hammock. It was
a blistering day out, and it was even hotter in the tent. Most of the other candidates had already

left. Assessment day. Having been informed multiple times that showing up early had little to no

effect on advancement, 23 decided to only get up when he had no other choice.

Despite the heat, he dawned his favorite jacket and shoved his hands into its side pockets.

As he stepped out he turned his face to the side to let his eyes adjust to the glaring sun. With

squinted eyes 23 noticed a familiar face atop one of the watch towers outside of the barracks.

“Morning Big T,” 23 said.

The man looked down and smiled at 23. “Officer Taylor, asshole.”

“Like hell I’ll call you that,” 23 said sarcastically, “Later T.”

From year one, instructors preach that the sole purpose to be in the academy is to become

a Guardian. But, if you last 4 years at the academy without quitting or being kicked out, you are

guaranteed a spot in the Steel City Military. The longer you make it, the higher up you are, and

the better the benefits you get. Because of this, poor families often send their children to the

academy in hopes of their child making it just far enough for them to be employed by the Steel

City Military to receive benefits for their family. Taylor was one of these unfortunate children,

just like 23.

Taylor held his middle finger up high as 23 walked away from him. His walk was full of

half-hearted greetings and nods to officers and knights in the compound. One conversation with

Taylor was all the social interaction he needed before he met with the Guardians. The tent before

him was large and made of newer material than his barracks. Colder than his barracks inside too.
 23 ducked his head through an opening too small for his stature and met eight pairs of

shrouded, judging eyes. His eyes swept the room before he lowered his head. The back of his

neck was caked in dirt that stuck to his sweat.

“You’ve earned our respect here, 23. Don’t feel the need to bow your head. Look at us.”

One of the shadow-cloaked figures said.

His gaze met the tops of their heads; he couldn’t bring himself to make direct eye contact.

A Guardian looked down at his paper and started writing furiously. He had taken note of his

avoidance.

“Your academic and strategic scores were average for your class, no matter what year

you made it to. No matter the size of your class, you were in the direct middle. Just enough to

avoid being cut, just low enough to keep to yourself. However, whenever it came to combat, you

always stuck out. We’ve decided that you’re the best fit to move on in your trio. Dismissed.” The

figure at the center said.

There was a wave of silence in the room. 23 had thought there would be more to the

assessment, and so did the other figures. With no reason to disobey his dismissal, he turned

around and was about to walk at the door when another figure stood up.

“Nothing to say 23? Are you not honored, or are you just arrogant?”

This figure was audibly angered by the events that had just transpired. This confirmed to

23 that the other figures were just as confused as he was.

The irate figure had a hand placed on his shoulder by the figure beside him.
 “No need to get upset over this. He’s just following orders; he wouldn’t deserve

advancement if he got sentimental over it. Isn’t that right 23?”

“I was just following The Academy’s guidelines. One of them happens to be ‘Emotions

lead to irrational decisions.’”

One of the figures laughed loudly.

“He just called you irrational, Delta. Seems you need to be sent back to school.”

There was a chorus of laughter in the tent. Someone clapped and the tent went dead

silent. The Guardians were not the emotionless gods that they were advertised as throughout 23’s

life. It was livelier in this tent than his barracks ever have been.

“Turn on the lights, it’s time we show ourselves to 23.”

As the lights flickered on, eight faces revealed themselves, all ranging from their mid-

30’s to early 50’s. Despite their age, their physiques were better than any person 23 had seen.

Their bodies were superhuman.

“I hope our faces weren’t too underwhelming. You’ll be seeing them a lot more after

today.” The man at the middle of the table said.

“It’s good to officially meet you all. I look forward to helping this city with you in the

future.” 23 said while stiffening up.

The man in the middle gave a wide grin as he stood up from the table and walked towards

23 with his hand outstretched.

 “I’m glad you’re just as excited to work together as I am. Feel free to refer to me as

Alpha,” He stood up from where he was sitting and started to walk towards 23. “Are you ready

for your first job, Enforcer?”

The extensive infrastructure that the United States had built up was all for nothing. Its

roads reduced to a handful of dirt paths with patches of concrete. Out of the cracks in the ground,

saplings and other plants attempted to grow. The state of this steel city did not allow them to

thrive, the steel city stunted them at about half of what they had grown to in the past. Grass was

the only plant that was able to partially come back from the blasts that had taken place. It was

brown and crunchy, poisoned by the blasts, and in a miserable state just like the rest of the city.

Most of Steel City had been repaired to livable conditions, nowhere near what it once

was, but still a large improvement from its surroundings. 23 took note of this as he travelled

outside the main Steel City grounds. He was used to seeing buildings have at least doors on

them, but where he was travelling was just steel and concrete shells of former glory.

Before 23 stood a dirt-stained, grey colored paint tarp, held up by leftover rebar with a

slit in the front clothe for an entrance, no different than any of the other tents throughout the

Academy’s compound. After entering, a lead-lined hatch with a handwheel lock was in the

center of the tent. The cover of the hatch was 250 pounds, requiring at least two people to gain

access to the underground. Concrete walls and steps led the way to a large door with five

padlocks on it. Once the locks had been undone, the inside was a hallway of 20 doors. Cries of
help seeped through the cracks of each one, but they fell upon deaf ears; the sound could not

escape far enough from the room’s meters below the scorched surface.

23 walked through the large door to this hallway with the Guardian called Alpha. Alpha

was a good four to five inches taller than 23. He had low cut spikey, silver hair with a short beard

of the same color. Scars lined most of his visible skin and his piercing green eyes were off-

putting.

23 followed Alpha to the end of the hallway. Pulling a key from his pocket, Alpha shoved

the key into the keyhole and cranked his hand with a ferocity that looked like it would snap the

key itself. There was a loud click as the door very slowly drifted open.

“There are two ways we gather information on the Traitor groups 23. The first is we plant

as many spies as we can outside our limits. This is hard to do as you’ll come to find due to the

distance and chance of the spies getting caught.” Alpha waved 23 to follow him into the room.

“Then we have option two. It’s not as pretty or well liked, but it sure as hell is effective.”

Blood was pooled around a man strapped down to what looked like a wooden workshop

bench that was parallel to the wall. Tools lined a rack behind the man’s head. Judging by their

state, they hadn’t been washed in a minimum of a few months. After scanning the room, 23’s

eyes landed back on the man. His fingernails seemed to have been torn off. He had multiple

abrasions on his skin. There were slices on every ligament of his body. His body was beyond

repair.

Alpha took pliers off the wall and held it towards 23.
 “You’re first job will be right here. You’ll be finding out when and where the Traitors

next ambush takes place.”

The only sound in the room was the man on the tables struggled breaths. 23 took a second

to process what had just been asked of him. He knew that nauseating tasks would be asked of

him a lot if he followed through and made it to the end of candidacy. But being asked to do it

with a half dead man on a table in front of him was different. With a heavy sigh, Alpha slowly

put his hand down.

“There was no other candidate that I had decided on accepting as quickly as you. Sure,

you were notable in your group, but nothing outstanding. It was the fact that I saw a younger me

as I watched you train, and when you stood in the tent before me, it was undeniable that you are

a spitting image of me.” Alpha looked up at 23, putting a hand on 23’s shoulder and locked eyes

with him.

“Since I see myself when I look at you, I know you’re conflicted 23. So just watch me do

this. No matter what though, you will be taking over after I show you some of our methods. If

you refuse, I will not hesitate to get rid of you, and you know what that means for you. Do you

understand?”

23 nodded slowly. He’s spent too long at this academy, overexerting himself and

climbing over the walls of his limits for him to fail. Following through with what Alpha said is

all he has to do in order to advance. But witnessing the sight of pliers being clamped down at that

mans deformed, discolored fingernails and hearing the sickening crunch and dry, half-hearted

scream made him want to throw up everything he’d ate the past week. The man on the table

shook violently before going limp.

 “Now that you’re awake, Cell One, why don’t you tell us today. Tell us where you’re

group of rats are hiding. You don’t want your friends in the cells next to you to die do you?

Don’t you value their lives? We won’t harm the rest of your Traitor group if you just tell us

where the next location is.”

A shiver climbed down 23’s back. He could have sworn he saw a smile creep on to

Alpha’s face as he put the pliers onto the man’s middle finger, twisted the pliers, and pulled. The

room had an overwhelming stench of iron after the man had lost his nails on his right hand. A

smell so bad that 23 was light-headed.

Alpha reached over to a bucket of water, scooped the water out, and delicately poured the

water into the man’s mouth. Why would someone so hell bent on inflicting pain, someone who

clearly enjoyed it, be so gentle to the same person seconds later?

Once he saw the look on 23’s face, Alpha stopped pouring the water.

“This man has been down here for 4 weeks. If we want information, we’ll have to go for

a while. And we can’t have this guy dying of dehydration or starvation when he hasn’t fulfilled

his use to us.” Alpha smacked the man’s cheek lightly after he finished his sentence.

Once he wiped the pliers down, Alpha held them out towards 23 once more. With great

reluctance, 23 reached out and took them. Alpha smiled as 23 began to walk to the table. The

man’s skin was paler than when he first got into the room and his eyes had no life in them.

Putting the pliers on the man’s left hand, 23 shut his eyes and pulled. He whipped around and

vomited in the corner of the cell as he heard the man scream and howl in pain. He had

accidentally grabbed the man’s frail finger instead of just the nail and ripped it off with an

aggressive tug.
 …

The nights air was cool on 23’s skin, making him get goosebumps even with his duster

on. The moon lit up the entirety of the city, reflecting off of everything that wasn’t covered in

dust. No one was outside walking; the only sound came from a small fire in a barrel beneath the

watch tower. It was a peaceful night, unlike the day that had come before it.

It had been years since a direct Traitor attack on the city. 23 might not have believed they

even existed anymore if he hadn’t seen that underground prison. He would have preferred to

believe they didn’t exist. Reaching inside his coat, 23 pulled out his waterskin. As his chapped

lips touched the rim, and he saw a glint of light in the distance.

23 grabbed his rifle and turned on the night vision on his scope. He rested his finger

above the trigger as a bead of sweat rolled down his nose. As he slid his finger along the side of

his scope, it zoomed in to the source of the glint. He steadied his breathing and prepared to pull

the trigger if he saw a Traitor in the distance. Aligned in his scope was the head of a child who

had found a shard of a mirror behind a collapsed building.

A sigh of relief escaped 23’s mouth. He should have expected that there wasn’t a traitor

behind the Steel City’s walls, the other watch towers would have noticed that before him. His job

tonight was to protect the entrance of the academy. On any other night, 23 would not have

acknowledged the glint at all. It was a peaceful night. But 23 knew that they were out there now,

he knew that the Traitors existed. A peaceful night was the scariest kind to now.

As the sun breached the horizon, it was time for Taylors shift on the watch tower. 23

reached out and shook Taylors hand once he had gotten to the top. Taylor looked 23 up and
down before he furrowed his brows in concern, wrinkles on his forehead becoming more

prominent.

“I figured since you were done competing for candidacy you would start sleeping more.”

Taylor said.

“So did I. But here I am, tired as ever,” 23 let out a light laugh. “How have you been Big

T? Meet any special ladies now that you can leave this compound?”

“Once again, it’s Officer Taylor, you shit head. And if I had met a beautiful lady, I

wouldn’t be getting here so early to see you. Get out of my chair and go to bed, I mean it.”

23 waved his hand in dismissal of Taylors commands and started to go down the ladder.

He wished he could go to bed. Instead, he was walking straight to the tent with the hatch again.

The two guards at the front went inside and heaved the hatch open for 23, and slammed it shut

the minute his head cleared the doorway for the hatch.

There were no screams or cries in the hallway today. There were no sounds at all. Dirt

falling and hitting the floor could be heard from the eerie silence. 23 never thought he’d miss the

groans of dying people, but silence in that hallway was much worse. With reluctance, he turned

and walked to cell one. He stared at the handle to the door, he knew he wouldn’t like whatever

laid inside for him. 23 prayed to whatever higher being there was that the door was locked. His

prayers went unanswered.

The door screeched open revealing Alpha and a new man strapped to a chair in the

middle of the room.. The man was not in horrible shape like the last, he only had a few cuts and

bruises. Alpha stood by the tool rack on the wall, twirling a bowie knife in his hand.
 Their eyes darted up towards 23 at the same time. Both of them had green eyes, but the

eyes contained separate sets of emotions. The man in the middle’s eyes showed anger and fear,

his face in a permanent scowl. Alpha’s eyes only contained one visible emotion: sparks of

excitement.

“Look who’s here Jason,” Alpha slapped the man’s shoulder. “It’s my trainee who ripped

the finger off the rat who sold you and your boys out.”

Jason shook the chair violently in an attempt to get Alpha’s hand off of him. Alpha put

his hands up in the air in a mocking pose of surrender.

“Didn’t mean to upset you. 23, come over here, I need to ask you a very, very important

question.”

23 stared at the ground as he stepped forward. He wondered if the floor was supposed to

be a dark red color or if the torture had been going on long enough to stain the concrete. When

his gaze lifted back up to Alpha, the bowie knife was pointed directly at Jason’s head.

“When you look at him, what do you see? What do you think of him, 23? Does he look

like an honorable, honest man?” Alpha asked.

“Well, if he’s down here, I’d assume he’s not a good person sir.”

Alpha seemed disappointed with that response.

“I asked you what you thought he looked like, not what you thought of based on his

circumstance.”

As 23 began to open his mouth, Alpha stopped him.

 “Forget it. Let me cut to the chase here, he’s the leader of a group of traitors outside our

walls. The kid yesterday finally caved and told us where they were holed up. I know you

struggled with the whole torture thing, so I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself.” Alpha

flipped the bowie knife in his hand, the handle now pointing at 23.

“Finish him 23. Show to me and the others that you weren’t a mistake in selection.”

23 took the knife and walked behind Jason. Jason’s face was emotionless.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this after everything we went through and saw in the

academy together. You know Bates, we were like brother’s once. You know what they do better

than I ever will. I didn’t take you for a loyal dog, but here you are.” Jason croaked out.

Alpha grimaced at the mention of the name Bates.

“23, get ready. Now. I don’t know how much bullshit I can handle coming from the

mouth of a Traitor.”

A deep breath followed by a sigh overtook the silence in the room. Cold steel pressed

against Jason’s throat. Jason struggled against it, but eventually gave up and stared at Alpha. 23’s

breathing was shaky; he was cold. How much time had passed since he entered the room?

“I felt the same way Jason. We were like brothers. Once. Do it 23.”

Jason looked over to 23. “You’ll regret following them,” he whispered.

“I know.”

The room was silent. Jason was limp.

…
 The hammock was uncomfortable tonight. Dirt splattered against the side of the tent.

Whoever was on watch kept whistling an unfamiliar tune, never pausing to take a breath. A fire

crackled outside. The night was cold. Maybe that’s what kept him up. 23 put his boots and duster

on, deciding he was unable to sleep for another night. Brushing through the flaps of the tent, 23

headed to the barrel fire.

There was a group sitting around the fire, drinking whatever concoction they had created,

watching the city for fun now instead of as a job. After getting to the barrel, 23 noticed Taylor

among the crowd. They were all laughing at a kid who tripped and fell in the street. He couldn’t

help but laugh as well.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here Big T.” 23 said, startling Taylor.

“God damnit, don’t sneak up on us like that. You’re gonna make my heart stop. Hell,

why are you even up in the first place?”

“It’s a beautiful night tonight, thought I’d get out and look at the sky.”

Taylor scooted over and patted next to him, inviting 23 to sit. The two sat down and

watched over the city together. For the first time in a while, 23 was able to watch the city without

having to worry about it. He was no longer a candidate or a part of the watch, he was the kids

running through the street. He was the husband and wife yelling at each other in their living

room. He was the merchant setting up shop on the corner. He was everyone and no one in Steel

City.