34. My brother Skull

Draco.

Draco was having a pretty crappy day: he was exhausted, dirty, and tired. Not to mention worried. He hadn't been this worried since his parents tried selling him to a skin farm.

They'd almost gotten away with it, but Hera had dealt with them. The memory still played in his head, his parents down with two bangs from Hera's desert eagle. He'd been stunned. Shocked, really. He'd only seen other Berserkers die because of their fights, but not by anyone else.

So in truth, deep down, he was afraid of Hera. But he wasn't going to tell anyone that.

Not with him being a father now. The thought still made his stomach swim. A father. He was nervous, and the thought only worsened the crappy day. Not because it was a mistake, he'd . . . enjoyed that night with Saia. But the thought kept scratching and jumping like a broken record.

And his crappy day had gotten even worse. One of his brothers had smashed straight into the orphanage.

The metal door tore off its hinges, flying deeper into the large main room. Children stared, their feet glued to the floor as the door hurtled towards them. Draco sprinted, each footstep shuddering the building.

He clenched his jaw and lunged, slamming his shoulder into the metal door. It hurt, oh how it hurt. He staggered as the door crashed into a wall, shaking the entire orphanage. The kids stared up at him, a hulking mass. His hand was nearly as big as their torsos.

"You kids alright?"

Before he heard their answer, he was yanked back. A rough hand clamped around his throat and threw him out of the orphanage, flying through the hole in the wall like he was as light as Runt. He crashed into the broken gravel, tumbling and turning, finally coming to a sudden jarring stop. His head smacked against a steel pole, shaking his vision.

He spat dust out of his mouth and pried his eyes open. A crappy day just got even worse. He stared up at the orange clouds; the sun was almost up. An hour or two more, and it would be. It took his mind off of the shuddering steps getting closer to him. He didn't have to look up to see who it was.

He knew his smell. He knew how he walked.

Skull stomped down on his chest, kicking out any hope of air his lungs held onto. "Draco."

Draco spat at his older brother's feet.

Skull kicked him, a kick that would have killed a normal person. Blood exploded in his mouth; the side of his head felt like a fire had been lit to it.

"I still don't understand," Skull snarled. "Why would you bother with these people? The entire Gray could be ours."

Draco swallowed the blood and looked at his brother. He'd always found him ugly, and now even more so with a skull over his head. Huh. He'd been shot, probably by Kira. His eye was gone; the skull itself cracked. But a bullet wasn't going to do the job like that.

Kira had more powerful guns, but until then, he'd have to hold his brother off. The brother that was near twice his size, the brother that was covered in scars. The brother that towered over other Berserkers.

Man, Draco hated his life. But as long as Saia was okay. If Skull tried anything with her . . .

"Could be yours, you mean." Draco shoved his brother off of him, warily getting to his feet. "And then what? Turn it into another camp?"

"More land, more meat, more Berserkers." His brother folded his arms, his muscles quivering. "Look at us. We were built to dominate. To win."

"Fuck do you know about running a city, Skull?" He flexed his hand. Bigger Berserkers had been killed at Skull's hand, but fuck them, Draco wasn't them. "'Cos I sure as hell don't know either."

"No wonder father and mother sold you."

"Tried to." Draco could kill for some liquor. The blue Saturn treated kind. That would ease the aches in his joints. "But they didn't. 'Cos there's something bigger and scarier out there than you, brother."

"You talk about the bitch with golden eyes?" Skull laughed. A roar that shook Draco deep down. "I'd slaughter her. Or put her . . . to generous work."

A line had been crossed. Draco threw a punch so hard it cracked the skull's jaw bone. His brother staggered, massaging the side of his face. A deep, black, raging fury rested in Skull's dark eyes; he'd hated that look, too. Draco had never had that look. He didn't want that look.

But now, in his own deep brown eyes, a hatred bubbled.

"You've grown balls ever since you left camp."

"Shame you're still as dense as the last time dad slammed your head against a rock."

Now, it was his brother who swung. Draco raised his arms. The impact was staggering. He stumbled, catching another sledgehammer of a fist in his gut; numb pain shot through his body, choking his lungs of air. He dropped to a knee and sucked in air.

His brother yanked him to his feet by his dreadlocks. "Still so childish."

"Still," he fought down a wheeze, "punch like a bitch."

He saw Saia's brown eyes twinkle from deep inside the orphanage. She was with Kira, both of them hurrying away. Good. She was alright. Just a little bit longer.

His brother clamped a hand around his head and slammed his face into the broken tarmac. For a moment, the world disappeared. His body went numb. Where was he? A ring had settled in his ears. What was he . . . his brother? Stalling. That's what he was doing.

He got to a knee and spat blood, his mouth now full of it. Nose bent. Face caked in dust. Just like the old days. He got to his feet, staring at his brother's heaving chest in front of him.

He saw the muscles tense, saw the quiver of muscle, and dipped under the punch. A hook, straight to his brother's side – like punching a wall. He ducked under another punch and jabbed at his brother's stomach. He stepped out, a leg behind his brother's, and tackled him.

They both slammed into the concrete, spider-webbing the stone. His brother roared, grabbed Draco, and threw him off. He rolled and stumbled onto his feet.

Skull slowly, with a grunt, climbed to his feet. "I'm done playing games."

"I never was."

His brother charged, footsteps like thunder. Draco tore a metal pole from the rubble and swung it as hard as he could, with all the force he could muster. Skull was too late; the rod slammed into the side of his head before his arm was up.

He stumbled.

Draco smashed the rod against his head again. Again and again, until his brother was at his feet. The skull cracked, split down its middle, and fell away. It clattered to the ground, barely audible over Draco's ragged breaths. A river of blood ran down the middle of Skull's glistening head.

His head was misshapen, a large scar at its back. The price he paid for trying to fight their father at too young an age. Draco didn't give a shit. He raised the metal rod again; this one would crack his real skull. It would cut off any family he had left in the Berserkers, and damn was he glad.

The deep hatred frothed in his eyes.

"Draco!" The scream shook him, tearing his eyes away from his grunting brother.

Another Berserker had Saia in his fist. He'd been deaf to what was happening around him. So focused on his brother. Too focused. His brother was only the first; the others had been waiting. And now they tore through the orphanage. Children in their grip. Crying. Screaming. Kira and the new girl on the orphanage's top, guns barking, bullets dropping Berserkers.

But too few of them dropped. One dropped, two more seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Skull smiled, lopsided, with blood on his teeth. "Still so childish."

Draco ignored his brother and darted towards Saia. The Berserker's grip was too tight around her. Her skin tinging blue, the grenades in her hands dropped to the ground. Useless. Unfinished.

Her head lolled to one side, eyes glassy. Her arms dropped.

The hatred boiled over. The deep, boiling, raging fire Draco had stuffed deep down exploded in his gut. He slammed into the Berserker, sending him straight into the tarmac. Draco threw a punch that bounced his head against the tarmac. Draco threw another that broke his jaw, a final one that caved his head in.

Blood on his fists and chest, blood on his face, blood in his mouth.

A fire in his eyes.

He sprung off of his chest and . . . where was she? He desperately looked for Saia. Her green hair. Her eyes. She wasn't in his limp hand. She wasn't underneath the feet of another Berserker. He was in a rage, his ears ringing, heartbeat hammering, breaths so quick his lungs ached.

"Draco! There!" the new girl shouted.

His eyes snapped to where she was pointing. Skull had her. His fingers wrapped around her head, engulfing her green hair, extinguishing their wild curls. She was still passed out. Like a rag doll, her body shifting with every roaring laugh that came from Skull.

"So this is the girl that will sire your child?" Skull spat. "Pathetic."

Skull lifted Saia into the air. Draco saw the muscles tense. Their powerful quivers. The grin on his brother's face. His arm arced towards the ground.