Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

someone completely different from the old you?"
    "Of course. It's not for the first time, after all. Finlay Campbell had his day, but it's over now. Time to move on. With centralized records still in chaos after the rebellion, adopting a new identity is easy these days. Lots of people are doing it, for all kinds of reasons. And whereas Finlay Campbell could never marry you, for all sorts of reasons, there's nothing to keep you and whoever I become apart. We can be together at last."
    They hugged again, Evangeline burying her face in Finlay's chest. "Won't you miss your old life?" she said finally.
    "Not really. Neither Finlay Campbell nor the Masked Gladiator were ever really me. Just parts of me. Things I did to pass the time. And anyway, people never did appreciate what Finlay Campbell did for them in the rebellion. Not like Julian, with his own holo show."
    "He's dead, you know."
    "Yes, I know. Poor Julian, at rest at last. At least he took that Chojiro bitch with him."
    "It's being presented as a lovers' quarrel," said Evangeline. "The official line is he lost his mind when he discovered he was dying, and wanted to take BB with him. The Chojiros went out of their way to say they didn't blame Julian. He was still very popular, after all. The whole city came to a standstill for his funeral."
    "I know," said Finlay. "I was there, standing in the crowd on the sidewalk as his funeral procession went by. Men and women were weeping openly. He was the people's hero. Not a legend like Owen or Jack Random, or shadowy figures like you and me."
    "You shouldn't have gone. It was dangerous for you to appear in public. Julian would have understood."
    "I was disguised. And I couldn't let him go without saying goodbye. I never really had a friend, before. He worshipped me, though I kept telling him not to.
    He could never understand how much I admired him. He was the real thing; an actual hero, fighting the good fight just because he believed in it. I was pushed into it. Only joined the underground so I could be close to you. Still; at least he got a good send-off. I was amazed to see his holo show was still running, with an actor playing his part. Bigger audience share than ever. He tried once to set me up as a guest star, but apparently the networks considered me unsuitable material." Finlay grinned. "How right they were. So; what are you doing with yourself, these days, Evie? From what I've heard, you seem to be practically running the clone underground."
    "Someone has to," said Evangeline. She pushed herself away from him, and sniffed
    a few times, her tears over. "The previous leaders let their new power and money go to their heads. They squandered their influence and voice for backroom promises and generous bribes, and achieved nothing. The clones should have been a major voice in the new administration. And by the time I'm finished, they will be. I got involved originally just to keep myself occupied, but you wouldn't believe the amount of corruption I uncovered. I couldn't go to the law; if word got out, it would discredit the whole clone movement. So, I've been slowly cleaning out the rats from the inside, and disposing of the bodies where no one will ever find them. You've come back from the dead at a very useful time, Finlay; I can use a strong right arm."
    "When did you get to be so practical?" said Finlay wonderingly.
    "I had no choice. I was alone. And I suppose I had to grow up sometime. Losing my hated father and my dearest love on the same day convinced me I couldn't afford to be a child any longer."
    "I can't be seen with you publicly," said Finlay. "Not until we can find a body shop we can trust, to change my face and body language."
    "You can wear a mask," said Evangeline, smiling. "You're used to that. We'll call you the Unknown Clone; a living symbol of all the clones who died to bring about clone equality. The movement can use a symbol like that."
    "Will I get to kill people?" said Finlay.
    "Oh lots," said Evangeline, and they both laughed.

    Daniel Wolfe sat bolt upright in his bed, trying not to scream this time. The nightmare was already fading away as he tried to hang on to it, and he could no longer remember exactly what it was that had disturbed him so. But his body remembered. He was soaked in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest, and he was
    panting for breath as though he'd been running for his life. Perhaps he had been. He pushed the sweaty sheets aside, and called for light. The lights snapped