Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

Shub, that would preserve both
    Humanity and the Clans' authority over it. A lie, of course, but the Families would believe it because they'd want to. And as Emperor, he would destroy the Empire as Shub never could, from within. He would crush their spirit, reduce them all to mad animals feasting on one another, and then watch the Empire burn.
    He would delight in its death agonies, and dance in its screaming ruins. He'd always known that was his destiny.
    And even if the aristocrats, or Security, or anyone else rose up against him, it would do them no good. Shub had filled him full of nanotech that could repair any damage to his body pretty much instantly. Finlay Campbell had shot him in the chest with a disrupter at point-blank range, and he'd still survived. Though admittedly it had taken the nanos a while to build him a new heart. Afterward, he'd walked through the flames of the burning Tower Shreck with impunity, ignoring his roasting flesh, already planning his revenge. He was unstoppable now, unkillable. Perhaps even immortal. And flying on every drug known to man, plus a few he'd had Shub whip up specially, just for him. Anyone else would have died from the extraordinary cocktail of chemicals circulating in his bloodstream, but Valentine just took that as one more sign of his clear superiority. His mind was so sharp now he could out-think anyone. Or anything.
    Let Shub beware.
    All around him, people's faces and body language shouted volumes of information to his expanded senses. He was faster, stronger, and more devious than any other mere mortal could hope to be. The only ones who might have hoped to stop him weren't here. Jack Random and Ruby Journey were currently facing obliteration at the steel hands of the Shub armada, and Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d'Ark were already dead. A pity, that. He would have liked to talk with Owen, one last
    time. The Deathstalker was probably the only person left who could have appreciated the terrible and wondrous thing Valentine had made of himself. And he would have enjoyed going one on one with Owen, sword to sword. The Deathstalker had always been Valentine's greatest challenge. He deserved a better death, a better end to his legend than just missing in action, presumed dead. Valentine would have killed him with style and grace, giving Owen a death so appalling people would have talked of it for centuries.
    Off to one side, Flynn studied the Sister of Mercy through his camera, and tried to figure out what was wrong. His camera was state of the art, and quite definitely picking up some kind of energy field, but he was damned if he could tell what. Of course, it could be just a malfunction, or even him reading the displays incorrectly… Flynn was always at least one manual behind whatever state of the art his camera happened to be in. He wondered vaguely if he should mention it to security, or Toby, and then the Shreck's voice was suddenly ringing loudly in his ear, demanding he pay immediate attention to the argument growing between two female celebrities who had unfortunately chosen the same outfit, from a supposedly exclusive fashion guru. Flynn immediately sent his camera flying toward the trouble spot, and hurried after as best he could. Real news always had to take priority.

    Finally, it was time. The great double doors swung open, and everyone in the antechamber surged forward onto the floor of the House. Strategically placed security Elves kept the fighting for position to a minimum. No one wanted to risk being excluded from the ceremony. The happy couple were already in place, magnificent in their traditional attire, standing together on the raised dais that had once held the Speaker's chair. Cardinal Brendan stood before them,
    ready to perform the wedding, and then oversee the investiture. He held his prayer book to his chest like a shield, and tried not to look at Kid Death, standing quietly to one side.
    The floor of the House was soon packed solid, shoulder to shoulder, as Robert Campbell and Constance Wolfe took their vows, while the whole Empire watched and listened. The Cardinal ran smoothly through the service, and Robert and Constance's voices were firm and steady. The choir sang beautifully, and rose petals rained down from the galleries. Delicate rainbows shone through the stained-glass windows. An almost completely overwhelmed page brought forward the ceremonial golden cord on its platter. Constance calmed him with a smile, and his hands were