Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

wanted. Finlay always had.
    He'd never been much interested in politics, and never would, but he had developed a grudging respect for the rebels, and a willingness to fight on their behalf. Apart from that he didn't have anything much in common with them. He had nothing to say to them and didn't understand or care about what interested them.
    They thought he was naive, and he thought they were boring. He also spent a lot of time sulking because he no longer had access to the pretty clothes and sparkling parties that had so distracted him when he wasn't in the Arena. The underground didn't have time for nonessentials like fashion or parties. When he wasn't sulking, Finlay tended to brood about the destruction of his Clan, the
    triumph of his enemies the Wolfes, and what Evangeline was doing without him.
    All in all, he was a pain in the ass most of the time, knew it, and didn't give a damn. So the underground did their best to keep him busy with missions, for both their sakes. It wasn't difficult. The underground had a lot of enemies, and Finlay had an endless need for a little action.
    So he volunteered for all the high-risk missions. The underground accepted, and they were both happy. It was hard to tell which of them was the more surprised that he kept coming back alive.
    This mission was pretty typical. The underground had marked a powerful and particularly vocal opponent for death, and Finlay was to be their instrument.
    Only this time the target and intended victim was the notorious Lord William St.
    John, Second in Command to the Lord High Dram himself, and therefore constantly surrounded by a small army of well-armed guards and high-tech security. Never moved in public without his people covering the ground for miles around in advance. A portable force Screen for emergencies and his own personal flyer to carry him everywhere. Completely untouchable. Unless you were mad, desperate, or supremely skilled. Like Finlay, who was all three at various times, according to his needs. Which was why he was currently crawling up the side of Tower Silvestri like a tiny gray spider, hopefully overlooked by all.
    He finally reached the relatively deep recess he'd noted earlier on the architectural plans the cyberats had dug up for him, and he pulled himself into it. There was just room for him to curl up into a ball and still keep a weather eye on the scene below. He was about a hundred and twenty feet up, and snug as a bug in a rug. Waiting. Lord William St. John would be here soon, according to the underground. Billy boy the bully boy, whose word was death for clones and
    espers and anyone else who got in his way. Billy the Butcher, hated and reviled by practically everyone, but entirely untouchable because of his position. The Empress was said to be quite fond of him.
    And he was coming here to Tower Silvestri, stopping off with his armored entourage to pay his compliments to his friend and ally Lord Silvestri, on his way to officially open a new orphanage nearby. Appropriate really, given how many orphans St. John and his people had created over the last few years. Since Dram became the Empress's official Consort, as well as Warrior Prime, he'd had to delegate most of his duties in the field to his Second in Command, St. John.
    Billy boy had taken over the pursuit and persecution of potential rebels, and the execution of rogue clones and espers, and did it all with great efficiency and even greater gusto. Blood and death followed in his wake, and he was never known to bring in his prey alive. Cruelty and slaughter were his pastimes; mercy was not in him. The underground had voted unanimously for his death. St. John's execution would send a message to the Imperial Palace that could not be ignored.
    No one would weep for his passing, not even his own kind. Of late, St. John had taken to playing politics, seeking to improve his position to something more than just the Lord High Dram's shadow. He went about it with his usual vim and venom, and made enemies among his rivals with sneering abandon. Opening a new orphanage was safe and uncontroversial, and bound to get St. John good publicity. The man of action with a soft spot for big-eyed children. Couldn't fail. All the big holo networks would be there. Finlay grinned. They didn't know it, but they were in for some of their best ever ratings.
    Finlay hadn't missed the similarities between himself and St. John. They were both men with a need for blood and death, and a