Alan Stockholm had returned to heal at the place he considered to be his Nest. This ‘Nest’ was located on top of an office complex, that had been bombed and the roof had partially collapsed. Yet, the ruined building suited him perfectly. Especially since it was also the tallest of the remaining downtown buildings.

Growing up in the wild lands, to the far north east of Moab City, his parents raised him to believe in the Spirits of Earth and that every person had possession of a Spiritual Animal Guide. The Guide was to lead and empower its host human to become the strongest and most powerful over all the others. Alan's Spiritual Animal was the Bald Eagle, and this building was his nest. Those that were ranked under him, lived in the building’s floors below.

Though the Skull had a legitimate stronghold, Alan couldn't stand being there. Everyone and everything there, including the air, was stifling and oppressive. To him it felt as if he was in a burning Beavers lodge. A place unfit for an Eagle.

After he reunited at the Nest with the remanence of his forces, he was disappointed. He had been training and gathering as many warriors as he could for the past six months and only ten Finger ranked, and twenty-three Feet ranked warriors remained. He had lost just over half of his men in one skirmish. Yet even from those survivors, five of the Feet ranked warriors were not going to fight ever again from the wounds they endured. Leaving only eighteen to be capable for combat.

Sitting on the edge of the broken building’s roof, with feet dangling off a single steel beam dozens of meters above the concrete below, Alan surveyed the tall buildings of The Damn's downtown. From this vantage point, he could see half of the roads that converged on this location dumping into a roundabout. An old, weathered statute of some long-forgotten hero of the past still stood erect in its overgrown roundabout’s center. The stiff cold wind toyed with his brown hair as it bustled its way through the city's rusting high rises.

Placing a tentative hand on the wound on his shoulder, Alan recalled the fight from before with Darius. Grumbling to the wind Alan spoke aloud, "If only I reacted sooner, I could have blocked way more of his attacks. One day I will be known as the greatest man of all. No one will stand before me and inflict damages like that on me again."

Being so high up, the strong winds took his words and tossed them away. Never to be heard again. The clear azure sky could be seen for kilometers on end, not a single cloud blemished its placid endless void. He would never grow tired of this sight. The horizon looked so close temptingly close that he could reach out and touch it, yet its rim would always be out of reach.

Then, looking down, he spotted movements on streets so extremely far below. A group of around twenty people were coming across the street towards his building. Squinting, Alan could only recognize one man based solely by his outlandish clothing choice. It was Steel Fist.

Dressed like a Native American, with feathers braded in his uncut black hair, mixed with the tattooed skeleton body he had, gave him a most terrifying appearance. Add his outlandish weapon of choice, the top of a light pole, made him intently recognizable and feared.

"I hope this is a friendly visit." Alan spoke again to the wind. He slowly stood up on the edge of the steel beam and leaned back stretching his back with his arms high above. "You'll never know what to expect when he is coming your way."

Turning around on his heel, Alan tight roped along the steel beam effortlessly back to where the floor of the building was. He had repaired most of this area months before by salvaging the best materials he could find. The floor was secure, roof didn't leak, and glass walls had been re-erected all around. Inside, opposite of the staircase, was where his bed and other personal things were kept.

Once inside, he headed for the elevator shaft. The elevator was no longer operational, however, its doors on every level remained opened. The Skull had a device that allowed them to gain the upper hand in taking over the downtown area. The device is called an "Automatic Rope Climber".

The Automatic Rope Climber device clamps down on a rope, cable, or a covered chain; then when the operator squeezes the trigger on the handle it will pull the operator up or down. The original device was intended to help rescuers and first responders to scale buildings, cliffs, canyons, or tall ships to save those in need. Naturally, the military had seen it potential uses for them and the device has gone though many different designs.

The first design allowed a person to be carried up a rope at a pace of one meter per second. Then carry the operator and a load of no more than one hundred sixty kilograms down at a safe speed. The devices nowadays can carry someone up at ten times that speed, carry four times the weight downward, and its battery would last hundreds of hours.

The gang used these devices to take over buildings controlled by rivals in minutes, rather than laying siege for hours or days and taking over floor by floor. Along with minimal personnel losses due to their swift takeovers, using such a device was a clear choice. Alan had several of these provided for his men and self. Then picking up his device he made sure nobody was coming up on the elevator shaft before he descended to meet up with Steel Fist.

The device clicked onto the cable effortlessly and hanging on with one hand, he descended towards the bottom floor. The sound of the friction of the device grating on the cable rubbed softly all the way down. When arriving at the bottom he saw Steel Fist and his men already expecting him to come from the elevator.

"Ah, Bone Flayer, as observant as ever I see. I bet you saw us coming for some time from that perch of yours." Steel Fist called out and his voice boomed in the marbled lobby. He had no concept of an inside voice.

"Yes, I did." Alan replied coming up to greet him.

The two shook hands tightly and each giving the other a broad smile. Though allies, each was wary of the other. Competition among the Skulls members was always inevitable.

"What brought you here today? I believe I had already thanked you for bailing us out of that skirmish." Alan asked getting to the point.

Steel Fist sighed lowering his head and rested his huge fists onto his hips. His headdress feathers wobbled as he replied. "The Eyes and Head have requested your personal attendance at the meeting that's being held tonight at the Heads Base. I know you hate it there and so do they. That's why I am here, to make sure you come this time. Its apparently important this time."

Alan turned his head and spit distastefully onto the marble floor. "I guess I have no choice then. I bet they are mad at me for breaking this pathetic peace between the two sides. It's just gotten so boring lately doing nothing but patrols."

"I agree." Steel Fist said with a shrug. "However, it's not our call to make. Though it would satisfy our lust for battle, we would likely be overwhelmed by those Mad Dog ingrates numbers. I would rather pummel everyone in a fight I know I can win."

"For such a big guy you sure act cowardly." Alan mumbled under his breath, but it was just loud enough for Steel Fist to hear. Alan gripped the handle of his tactical hammer in anticipation, fully expecting Steel Fist to retaliate.

Steel Fist, rather, burst into a hardy fit of laughter. The feathers in his long black hair bounced violently around as he did. "I understand why you think that, but if I lose a fight while so young and die, I am wasting my chances at future battles. I can feel it in my bones that wars to come are nothing like we have seen before."

Alan looked into the big man’s cow brown eyes and could see the fire of battle burning brightly as ever. He relaxed his grip and replied indifferently. "I suppose. Yet if the Head keeps being lazy it may never come true. The Skull need to leave bones in our wake as the Founder wished."

Steel Fist nodded. "Yes, as the Founder wished. Well, we better get going. If we leave now, we can get there early and get a good spot."

Alan looked at the men behind Steel Fist. "I can also bring my men?"

"Yes, but only two may enter with you to this meeting." Steel Fist replied.

Alan nodded and turned to leave. After going up a few levels in the building he found two of his best Fingers. They were also the only two Fingers that hadn't been injured in the previous fight, not even a scratch. The first was Hemlock, a tall lanky man with shoulder length black hair that always covered one eye and his weapon was a simple styled spear with a spear head broader than one’s hand. The other was Stone, the polar opposite of Hemlock. He was short, thickly built, bald and used a single-handed battle axe like weapon, specially designed by himself.

Alan chose them to join him because he knew they were dependable and skilled. Just the men he wanted by his side incase thing went bad at the Heads Base. Leaving the other Fingers in charge in their stead, the three men returned to the lobby to leave with Steel Fist and his men.

"All set?" Steel Fist asked as they arrived.

"Yes." Alan replied.

"Good. Let's get this meeting over with." Steel Fist replied turning on his heel to leave.

The Skull members traveled steadily on foot through the empty city streets. The rubble and trash had been mostly cleared by the locals from the streets and sidewalks, as per the Heads orders. Though no cars ever traveled on them, it still made travel easier. The silence traveling through the buildings and empty roads gave an ominous feeling to the men. Though they were the masters of this territory, it was enough to keep them wary of their surroundings.

Nearly an hour had passed by as they traveled block after empty block. Then they arrived at their destination, the once Maple Valley Mall, that was now the Head’s Base. However, it no longer appeared as a mall; huge piles of rubble, cars, metal beams, trees and other solids were piled onto it. At every window, every entrance and the wall built around it, were lit torch's and bonfires. Lining the path leading to the entrance were the sun-bleached bones of their enemies staked in place or piled up in disorganized mounds. Giving the whole place the appearance, at least to Alan, of a burning Beavers death lodge. A true terrible base for the cult like Skull gangsters.

Alan wasn't afraid of the base, but he still resented it. It wasn’t a place he could truly spread his wings, so to speak, and feel free. Taking a deep breath, he headed into the entrance with the others and the smoking darkness enveloped them within.