After the Second Fall - Part 1.1
Copyright 2020-2022, All Rights Reserved
Author's Note:
After the Second Fall
was published in 2020 as a standalone novel, one of several attempts to write (and especially finish) what I considered a full-length story. The feedback, both positive and constructive, helped me understand how I could improve my writing and storytelling, and I used it to expand the original effort into a 300,000 word epic, broken into three novels, each with three parts.
Thank you to all the people that took time to read the initial version; the entirely new material starts with part 2.1.
For those that are curious about the changes, as well as new readers, you will find less violence and more intimacy than in the original release, which I hope strikes a better balance and makes the story more enjoyable. Please be aware that writing graphic sex scenes is not one of my skills as an author, so instead I strive for descriptions of erotic encounters that are critical to the story itself.
There is much more to say, but I'll leave that for other forums; feel free to check out my Bio page for more information.
Cheers,
Simon
Prologue
In the forty-second year after the second Fall of Man, the first of the great contests was held. Born of necessity to a world only a fragment of its former self, it was a desperate ploy to stop the continuing unnamed conflicts by the man who would become the first new king. Despite being born after the Fall, Gerald Snowden recognized that progress was not being made, and as the chosen leader of seventeen families, he knew that change was necessary.
A man of great imagination, it is somewhat ironic that Gerald turned to the oldest of stories as his inspiration, that of David and his fight with the giant Goliath. The idea of single combat to decide the fate of nations was appealing, given that his charges were so few. And while Gerald had no immediate intentions toward conquest, his tribe found itself in regular struggles to fight off other groups with either ambition or desperation greater than that of his own.
So it was that Gerald walked onto the field alone with a knife in his left hand and a sling, of sorts, in his rear pocket.
Chapter 1
Until well into his nineteenth year, this Adam was, by all accounts, a failure. Meant to be part of the future of his city, he was born prematurely. Within the larger population this happenstance is to be expected with some regularity, but Pip was the result of in-vitro fertilization and gestation, with all parameters tightly monitored and controlled. Consequently, his early extraction was unprecedented in the program's seventy year history, which included hundreds of successful births.
It is natural that in such a program mistakes will be made, and Pip was not the first birth gone awry. In the on-going quest for dominance, boundaries were routinely pushed, sometimes with terrible results. Grotesque deformities, stunted growth, limited intelligence, and extreme emotional instability were all common in the early years.
As the knowledge base grew, so too did the success rate. In recent memory, embryo viability consistently exceeded 90% and the five-year survival rate hovered around 80%. With broods being extracted on an annual cycle, it was common to have as many as fifteen in each class.
In addition to being born thirty percent smaller than statistical norm for the program, Pip also grew slower than typical through his first years. For an average city boy, being the smallest might not have been fun, but it was rarely fatal in and of itself. In Pip's case, early mortality was a significant possibility for two primary reasons.
The first was that he and his peers were designed to grow quickly. This prevented the city from wasting resources on lost causes, including those that were unstable, lacked the talent for the Arena, or simply didn't have the required killer instinct necessary to be successful. The typical subject reached physical maturity by the end of their twelfth year.
The second reason was that these boys were trained to be killers, for that is the nature of the contest itself. To build and subsequently test skill, regular matches were necessary between the subjects. With his relatively small stature, there was simply no way for Pip to compete successfully against his classmates.
As a consequence, Pip was twice delayed in his forward progress. Even so, he still stood a full head shorter than the others in his current peer group, although they were two years younger. Interestingly enough, Pip's handler, for each subject had one, refused to give up on the young man despite the obvious disadvantages. This man, John Rogers, saw something in the boy and fiercely defended his charge's continued position in the program when pushed.
Since his atypical birth, at which John had been present, Pip had shown himself to be a tenacious fighter. Through all the sanctioned contests and impromptu scraps of his childhood, Pip never backed down from a fight, although he was smart enough to avoid conflict when possible. This combination of innate intelligence and tenacity was not as common as might be hoped within the talent pool, and John felt strongly that it would ultimately be of great worth to the program, although he couldn't say how.
Furthermore, while he was clearly the runt of the littler, Pip still towered above John, whose head only reached the middle of Pip's shoulder. Additionally, almost twenty years of constant physical training had turned Pip into a truly intimidating specimen. Like the other Adams-in-training, Pip's bones, muscles, lungs, and heart were all significantly enhanced compared to the populace at large. In fact, each of the their body systems had been tuned over time to optimize performance in the Arena. Pip and his peers were meant to be the pinnacle of fighting prowess, at least until the following year's batch.
Now, as Pip prepared for the fight to begin, he quickly considered his options. The opponent across from him was especially large, exceeding both mean height and weight for the class by more than two standard deviations. This boy, for he had only completed sixteen years, was called Hammer because of his favorite strike. He had beaten Pip once before, leaving cracked bones, a collapsed lung, and a bruised kidney. To his credit, Pip had broken Hammer's orbital socket and three ribs in the last encounter, using his additional two years of experience to its fullest advantage. The results of the fight had earned Pip some respect from his peers, but this contest was not likely to go so well, because Hammer and the rest of the other, younger subjects had been making great strides in their various techniques, even if they did tend to lack imagination.
The fact that Hammer held no specific resentment toward Pip did not even factor into his mind; when the bell rang there would be no quarter until the second bell declared a victor. Given the size and strength of the combatants, as well as their advancing abilities, fatalities were becoming more common. In the end, if three subjects survived to take their places as Adams in the pool upon graduation, the program managers would be satisfied.
Taking a look around himself, Pip nodded once to John, then took in the fifty-or-so other people standing in the short grass surrounding the circular white sand that made up the training arena. Most would be associated with the training program, of course, dressed in black, but there were also others mixed in, like the medical staff, each marked with a diagonal red stripe across their otherwise unadorned white shirts. The blue and green and yellow clothing likely indicated administrative workers looking for free entertainment -- 'Good for them', thought Pip to himself.
Up above, the sky was pale and the sun bright. Thin clouds drifted unhurriedly by on a cool Spring breeze that also stirred the eight black and gold banners spaced evenly around the courtyard in which the training arena was situated, regularly providing glimpses of the city's arachnid mascot with its mismatched circle and star eyes, symbolizing vigilance day and night. Dressed only in the tight gray athletic shorts that marked him as a trainee, Pip clapped his hands together and moved his focus back to the day's opponent, content that all was as it should be.
The bell rang and Hammer advanced forward through the thick sand, moving in a traditional posture with his hands open and at chin level; Pip still had not yet formed a concrete plan, so he started to circle to his right, away from Hammer's stronger hand. Rather than circling with Pip, Hammer stepped laterally, cutting off the smaller man's planned path, making it clear that he was not overly concerned with Pip's ability to hurt him quickly.
Instead of waiting for the inevitable, Pip took two quick steps and threw a left roundhouse kick at Hammer's side, just as Hammer's right foot began to cross behind his left. The kick connected, but not solidly, as Hammer shifted his weight backward just before impact. This allowed Hammer to absorb the strike and return his own, clipping Pip on the top of the head.
Momentarily stunned, time seemed to slow as Pip staggered backward, spun, and dove away from his opponent, coming up on his feet again having executed an effective roll. Unfortunately, Pip did not have much time to recover as Hammer came forward quickly with a flurry of punches, both high and low. Pip's head had not cleared and time was still moving slowly for him as he was forced to absorb the blows on his arms and shoulders. Pip would much rather have avoided the strikes, but Hammer's skill prevented him from doing this without unduly exposing his head. Fortunately, the oddly slow progression of time made it possible for Pip to dramatically reduce the overall effect of punches with subtle shifts of his body.
Nevertheless, Hammer did not let up with his assault, and began to add in the hammer fist strike for which he had earned his moniker.
Jab-Jab-Cross-Hammer fist.
Jab-Jab-Cross-
Pip allowed the strike to deflect off his left shoulder and took a jab step to his right. In the same movement, he swung his right fist as hard as he could up and into Hammer's ribs with the full weight of his body, catching the bigger boy on the side just in front of and below his armpit. There was a loud crack as Pip's fist broke through the bone, driving it inward. The strike that had been descending toward Pip never landed as Hammer pitched forward onto the ground.
Pip pivoted, ready to kick the downed man in the head, but there was no need: Hammer laid completely still. The second bell sounded and the ever-present medical staff rushed into the arena to attend to Hammer. Their attention was unnecessary.
Pip didn't know how to feel about actually killing a person. Of course, this is what he had trained for, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat conflicted, at least on an intellectual level. Having grown up in the program, Pip soon let the outcome go as a necessary part of his life, satisfied that he wasn't the one face down.
It was also odd for Pip to see Hammer sprawled on the ground without any obvious signs of having been in a life or death struggle. There was no obvious bruising or blood; just a very large body laying motionless.
