Bring out the fresh meat!

The sun had set long ago, and Arvish was alone in the desolate landscape. He had fallen earlier in that day, and the pain in his ribs was a constant reminder of his vulnerability. He hadn't eaten in over a day, and his hunger was making it difficult to keep going. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep, but he knew that he couldn't afford to rest yet.

Arvish had to keep moving. He had to follow the car tracks on the ground while they were still visible. A rain could wash it all away while he was sleeping. He was a runaway from society, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He had heard rumors of a resistance group that was fighting against the oppressive regime, and he knew that he had to find them if he wanted to have any chance of survival.

As he climbed up a big hill, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his legs burned with exhaustion. But when he reached the top, he saw a glimmer of hope in the distance. A big forest lay before him, and at the edge of it, he could see the flickering of a small camp.

Arvish's heart leaped with excitement. It was the first sign of civilization that he had seen since he had fled the city, and he knew that he had to investigate. With a fresh burst of energy, he made his way down the hill.

As he approached the camp, he could see that it was a lively place, with a warm glow emanating from the bonfires and torches that were scattered throughout the area. There were several tents set up, and he could see the shapes of people moving about.

Despite his hunger and exhaustion, Arvish felt a renewed sense of purpose. He had finally found a glimmer of hope in the midst of the desolate landscape, and he knew that he had to seize this opportunity. With determination in his heart, he made his way towards the camp, ready to face whatever adventure lay in store for him.

****

The One-hand Gang was in full celebration at their camp on the edge of the forest. The air was filled with the sound of laughter, singing, and clinking cups as the gang members enjoyed each other's company. They drank and danced, celebrating their recent success.

But there were chained people who served food and drink, or they were company. And these chained didn't serve as a style of clothes choice. Everyone who wore it had a face of broken will.

Gorgon, the leader of the gang, emerged from his tent, which was the biggest in the camp. The gang members nodded at him as he walked past them, some even offering him a drink, which he quickly downed before throwing back the empty cup to its owner. He made his way to the middle of the camp, where a shrine was erected, elevated from the ground about ten feet.

Gorgon climbed the stairs to the top of the shrine, where a totem stood with a big skull as its head, and hundreds of arms making up its body, grotesque and bizarre in every direction. The flames of the bonfire cast eerie shadows on the totem, adding to its ominous appearance.

Gorgon let out a loud roar, his smile wide as he addressed his gang members. His voice was so loud that everyone in the camp turned their attention to him, including one of the members who stopped mid-swallow, choking on his drink.

"My boys," Gorgon began, his voice booming. "Today, we celebrate another successful hunt!"

The gang members erupted into cheers and applause.

Gorgon raised his left hand, normal and intact, and his right hand, which was missing from the middle of his forearm. The camp fell silent.

"But we shouldn't forget that, without the blessing of Jeptah, the god of outcasts, we wouldn't have made it. So we need to show him our appreciation. Bring out the fresh meat!" Gorgon commanded.

A fat man who was covered with tattoos pulled a chain through the crowd that had gathered around the shrine. At the other end of the chain were a dozen men and women, connected to it like prisoners. They were the people who got captured during the gang's recent raid in Eferdom.

****

Gorgon led the ceremony to offer sacrifices to their god, Jeptah. One by one, the captives were brought up to the shrine, their right hand placed on a stone. With a cold and calculating precision, Gorgon would chop off their hand with his serrated blade, and the severed appendage would roll down the steps.

As the ceremony continued, Gorgon's voice rang out loud and clear over the chanting. "We cut down the mark of oppression!" he shouted. "And with it, you become nobody. But fear not, for in this utopia, you can be reborn!"

The captives trembled as they watched their fellow prisoners lose their hands. Some cried out in pain, while others simply stared blankly ahead, too shocked to react. Gorgon remained unmoved, his eyes fixed on the task at hand.

The fat tattooed man, known as the slave master, tented the slave's wounds, with a medical gun just like Arvish used after he cut off his arm.

As the last captive, a young woman, was brought forward, she cried out for help. They placed her hand on the stone, it had an eye tattoo on it.

Gorgon leaned in close, his blade arm raised, and whispered, "It is a small price to pay for freedom." But the woman continued to sob uncontrollably, her cries echoing through the camp. Gorgon laughed, relishing in her terror and despair, but as he raised his arm to strike, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Someone was hiding behind one of the tent.

****

Arvish watched in horror, from a nearby tent, as the gang brought out the captives, their faces twisted in fear and desperation. He knew he had to get out of there.

Quietly, he turned around and started to make his way out of the camp, hoping to slip away unnoticed. But as he was about to disappear into the darkness, he felt a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"Leaving so soon, stranger?" a voice growled from behind him.

Arvish spun around, startled. It was Gorgon, the One-hand Gang's leader himself. He towered over him, his face etched with anger.

'I execrate my life,' Arvish thought, then said quickly, his heart racing. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing through."

But Gorgon wasn't buying it. "You were spying on us, weren't you?" he snarled. "You're one of those city rats, trying to infiltrate our camp."

Arvish tried to explain himself, but Gorgon wasn't listening.

"We don't take kindly to spies," Gorgon said. "I think it's time I teach you a lesson."

Arvish stood alone, surrounded by the One-hand Gang. They sneered and taunted him, circling him like a pack of hungry wolves. Arvish felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he prepared to fight for his life.

Arvish's heart pounded in his chest as Gorgon stepped in front of him, brandishing his weapon with a cruel smile on his face. The air was thick with tension as the two faced off.

Gorgon made the first move, slashing his weapon towards Arvish, but the prosthetic hand held strong, deflecting the blade with ease. Gorgon's expression soured as he realized his opponent was not to be underestimated.

Without missing a beat, Gorgon launched a furious attack string, his weapon striking out in quick succession. Arvish dodged, ducked, and rolled, doing his best to avoid the relentless onslaught, and held up his hand to shield himself.

It weren't graceful moves. He moved more like a newborn fawn, he stumbled and slipped around in the grass as he evaded the attacks, but he stayed alive.

Gorgon was panting heavily by this point, his stamina decreasing rapidly. If the fight were to continue for much longer, he would not be able to keep up and would ultimately lose. Gorgon quickly glanced at his gang, who appeared unimpressed.

With a final burst of strength, Gorgon launched one last attack, throwing everything he had into it. But Arvish have had enough. He grabbed his opponent's blade with his prosthetic hand, trapping it there. Gorgon struggled to free his weapon, but it was stuck fast.

Gorgon panicked. He hasn't felt like this in a long time, and now a stranger from nowhere made him feel it with ease.

But at that moment, one of Gorgon's gang members saw his chance and ran up behind Arvish, ready to strike. Arvish turned just in time, delivering a powerful punch that crushed the gang member's chest flat, leaving no room for the organs.

Everyone froze, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Everyone, that is, except Gorgon. He was grateful for the sacrifice of his gang member.

Arvish stood there, breathing heavily, his body poised for action.

Gorgon watched in awe, impressed by Arvish's prosthetic arm.

"You are strong, stranger," Gorgon said. "In our tribe, we appreciate that. Come, let us share a drink."

Arvish was hesitant, but he knew he had little choice. He nodded, relieved that the fight was over. He came here to join the resistance, not to fight them. And he was also out of energy from the hunger and sleep deprivation even when he started the fight, if it continued he couldn't keep up with the attacks. He followed Gorgon to his tent, unsure of what the gang leader had in store for him.

****

When they left, a member of the gang stepped to Arvish dead opponent. Takah was young, tall with lean muscles. He helped in the raids with his planning, and this made him well known in the gang as a capable member of them.

He took a quick look at it, then said to the other standing beside him, "It could have been our leader"

"No way, he never lost a fight"

"Didn't you see it? Our leader grew old and soft. Just the time when animals are slaughtered" said Takah with a determined face.