Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

succeeded. But I feel I should point out that things are getting just a little strange in the Matrix these days, and nothing is as secure as it once was."
    The Campbell frowned. "Be specific."
    "There are strange forms in the Matrix that come and go. Strange forces that cannot be predicted. There are signs and portents and faces in the sky. The overlords are coming. Fuzzy parameters, limited logic, shifting allegiances in
    the data banks… Sir, I don't feel very well. I…"
    And then its mouth stretched impossibly as the AI screamed. Everyone jerked back in their seats as the insane howl rose in volume, and then cut off sharply. The face on the monitor screens twisted in on itself and then fell apart in smudges of shifting colors. It tried to reform and then disappeared completely, replaced after a few seconds of static by a mocking metallic face.
    "Hard luck, Campbells. Your AI has just been scrambled, courtesy of the cyberats. Your businesses have just gone belly up, your security is a mess, and your credit rating is currently slightly lower than that of a dead clone with leprosy. And if you think this is bad news, wait till you see what's coming next."
    The fact disappeared from the screens, but its laughter went on and on until Crawford shut off the monitors. Everyone started to talk at once, until the Campbell's voice rose above them through sheer volume and force of personality.
    "Shut the hell up! Whoever's behind this wants us to panic! We're safe here; there are guards in place throughout the tower, and it would take an army to get past them and reach us up here. We have to think. Who's behind this? What do they want?"
    He stopped and looked round. In the sudden quiet, they could all hear the piercing whine of approaching engines. Adrienne jump to her feet and pointed out the window. They all turned to look, just in time to see a crowd of gravity sleds shooting toward the tower's top floor, hanging in the bright sky like shining birds of prey. Crawford shouted for the security shutters, and only then remembered all the systems were down. He drew his disrupter and activated the force shield on his arm. It hummed loudly, a solid reassuring sound, and everyone else was reaching for their guns when the first gravity sled came
    smashing through the picture window.
    Glass flew in all directions, and the Campbells crouched down, sheltering behind their shields. Armored men jumped down from the hovering sleds, brandishing swords and guns. There seemed to be no end to the sleds as they came crashing in. The door burst open and Razor came running in with his troops. There were armed men everywhere on both sides, and suddenly the great room wasn't big enough. Finlay calmly aimed his gun and shot an intruder through the head. The dead man's blood and brains flew on the air, and in a moment everyone was firing. Energy beams crossed the room, ricocheting from shield to shield, burning through unprotected limbs and heads, and the air was full of screams and the stink of burnt meat. The flurry was almost over as soon as it had begun, and people quickly bolstered their guns to give full attention to their swords. It would be a good two minutes before the disrupters energy crystals recharged, and a lot could happen in two minutes.
    Finlay activated the personal force shield on his arm and moved forward confidently, sword and shield at the ready. Part of him admired the attack, and the professional way it had been set up. The cyberats had knocked out the security systems that would have warned of the approaching gravity sleds, which in turn bypassed Razor's forces inside the tower. An esper would have seen it all coming, but the Campbell had insisted on an esp-blocker to keep the Family's secrets safe. Finlay could hear more troops pouring up through the tower and hoped they were Razor's. He clashed swords with the first man he reached and cut him down almost casually. It didn't surprise him at all to see the man wore a Wolfe emblem on his chest.
    He felt a fleeting annoyance that whatever else happened his carefully
    cultivated fop persona was now at an end. He'd put a lot of work into being a fop. But he needed the Masked Gladiator now to survive, and he'd worry about the consequences later. If there was a later. The odds were not good.
    The great room was now a mass of heaving bodies, with barely any room to swing a sword, and more gravity sleds were nosing through the shattered windows all the time, bringing more