Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

thoroughly checked out, Shreck? I have other engagements following this, and if I have to
    change my schedule, someone's going to suffer for it and it isn't going to be me."
    And that was when the wild-eyed zealot appeared with a crack of thunder in the middle of the ballroom as though from nowhere. He wore only a ragged loincloth, and his bare skin was crisscrossed with old and recent scars. He wore a crown of thorns upon his brow, and blood ran down his face in sudden little rushes as his features moved. He had a starved aesthetic look, and his eyes gleamed with the fire of the true fanatic and visionary. The stunned crowd started to react to his appearance, and then fell silent again as flames leapt up from nowhere, licking around the zealot without consuming him. He glared about him, and people shrank back, but when he spoke his voice was surprisingly calm and even.
    "I am here to protest against the continuing slavery of espers and clones! I protest against the desecration of the one true Church of Christ the Redeemer!
    Christ was a man of peace and love, but if he were here now to see what you do in his name, he would turn his face away from us in despair. I do not fear your guards or interrogators; I have dedicated my life to the Lord, and I give it up now as a sign to you that espers and clones have a strength and faith of their own and will not be denied!" He paused then, looked around him, and smiled slightly. "See you all in hell."
    His body burst into flames, bright and searingly hot. Those nearest him fell back from the terrible heat, but in the heart of the flames the zealot's smile never wavered, even as the fire consumed him. It was all over in a moment, and the flames and the heat died down to nothing. All that remained was a greasy stain on the floor, and a few ashes floating on the air, and a single discarded hand that had somehow fallen outside the devouring flames. It lay on the ballroom floor like a single pale flower, fingers outstretched as though in one
    last appeal for reason.
    "Esper scum," said Vicar James Kassar. "Saved us the trouble of executing him.
    Pyrokinetic, obviously, but how did he get in here? I was assured this ballroom was protected by esp-blockers."
    "So it is," said Valentine, stepping forward. "I am not entirely certain what has happened, but as senior Wolfe present, I can assure you that my security people are investigating the breach even as we speak."
    "That's not good enough, Wolfe," snapped Kassar, studying Valentine with undisguised contempt and disgust. "Whether he teleported in or was smuggled in, he must have had inside help. Which means you have a traitor here, Wolfe. I'll detail a company of my men to help find him. They've had a lot of experience in finding traitors."
    "Thank you," said Valentine, "but that won't be necessary. My people are quite capable of doing all that's necessary without disturbing my guests."
    It took the wide-eyed guests a moment to realize that Valentine had just refused the Vicar permission to bring his hard men in. This wasn't exactly unknown, but it was pretty damn rare. You upset the Church at peril of your soul and your body, these days. And James Kassar in particular wasn't used to being defied.
    His face reddened, and he stepped forward to glare right into Valentine's mascaraed eyes.
    "Don't cross me, boy! I shed no tears for one more dead esper, but I have no tolerance for traitors, no matter where they may be found. And high station is no protection against the will of the Lord."
    "How very reassuring," said Valentine, and then said nothing more. The moment lengthened and the tension grew. The Vicar scowled at Valentine.

    "You look like a degenerate. Wipe that paint off your face."
    Everyone stared at the two men, breathless in the spectacle of two legendary wills clashing. And then Valentine took one more step forward, so that his face was right before Kassar's. His crimson smile widened, and his dark eyes didn't waver at all.
    "Lick it off."
    Kassar looked at him, his mouth a tight white line. His hand hovered over his sword, but he didn't draw it. If he did, and killed the Wolfe heir in his own home, he would be committing the Church to full vendetta against Clan Wolfe.
    Rich and influential as it was, the Wolfes couldn't hope to stand against the full might of the Church for long, but… if the Wolfes did somehow win the contract for the new stardrive, and the Church had to come cap in hand to Clan Wolfe for the new