Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

I never really had anything worth spending it on before. Certainly nothing that gave me so much pleasure. Don't frown like that, Brett. It'll give you wrinkles. I know what I'm doing, and you know only what I want you to know."
    And then they both looked around sharply, as a single agent came striding over to join them. He crashed to a halt outside their booth, his thumbs tucked ostentatiously into a wide leather belt from which hung all kinds of nasty-looking weapons. He glared at Finn and Brett impartially. He was almost as wide as he was tall, his body bulging with the best muscles money could buy. In fact, he looked like he got a bulk discount on the deal. He was a thug, and looked it, conspicuous in his lack of enthusiasm for Finn's proposal earlier. Brett studied the man warily, and let his hand drift casually towards the dagger concealed up his sleeve.
    "Do introduce us, Brett," Finn said easily. "I don't think I caught this gentleman's name from before."
    "This is Toby Goddammit," said Brett. "There's probably a highly amusing christening story somewhere in his background, but don't expect to hear it from Toby. He has no sense of humor and even less small talk. Not noted for his subtlety, or his charm, and vicious with it. Toby's the one you hire when there's a shortage of mad dogs. Living proof there's no intelligent life on his planet of origin. What's the problem, Toby?"
    "He is," said the thug, jerking his shaggy head at Finn. "I don't trust him. I don't care what he says, or what you say; once a Paragon, always a Paragon. This is some kind of trick, or trap; has to be. And if they're all too stupid or too greedy to recognize that, I'm not. You shouldn't have brought him here, Brett.
    I thought you had more sense. Now get out of the way. You'll all thank me for this later. Say good-bye, Durandal. You're a dead man."
    His hand came up, suddenly full of a long gleaming blade with a viciously serrated edge. Finn made a slight gesture with his hand, and Rose Constantine erupted up out of her chair in the corner, where she'd been sitting still and silent for so long that everyone had quite forgotten about her. Toby started to turn, but she was already upon him, and her sword flashed through the air in a blindingly swift arc. It sank deep into Toby's neck, and the impact of the blow drove him to his knees. He cried out once, his eyes wide with shock and pain, while blood gushed down his shoulder and across his heaving chest. Rose set her foot against his shoulder, and jerked the blade free. Toby grunted, a deep helpless sound, like a cow in a slaughterhouse. Rose hit him again, and the blade sheared clean through his neck. The head fell away, rolling across the floor towards the other agents, who scattered away from it with cries of alarm, like startled birds. The head's eyes were still blinking, and its mouth worked soundlessly The headless body fell forward onto its chest, and lay still. Rose sighed happily. A shocked silence fell across the room. Finn emerged from the booth and smiled charmingly about him.
    "You have to be strict, but firm," he announced.
    "I want to go home," said Brett, from under the table.
    But they still had one last visit to make. To see Dr. Happy, and his fabled subterranean chamber of stinks and perfumes. You could only get to it by descending through a trapdoor, and making your way cautiously along an underground passage with sulphur-smeared brick walls that was home to far too many rats and other small scuttling things, and finally through a series of state-of-the-art air locks. Dr.
    Happy was not a genuine medical person, as far as anyone knew for sure, but he certainly knew his chemistry. Whatever you wanted, or thought you needed, Dr. Happy had the cure for what ailed you.
    Love potions and battle drugs, mind benders and soul destroyers; from the sublime to the suicidal, from heart's ease to potions that would blow the doors of perception clean off their hinges, Dr. Happy was right there for you.
    Brett looked interestedly about him as he followed Finn and Rose into the good doctor's laboratory.
    He'd never been able to afford the doctor's more than extortionate prices, and he was curious to see if all the rumors were true. His fingers itched to steal something. Anything.
    The laboratory was a long single chamber, carved out of the solid rock the city rested on. The bare walls were covered with what looked like miles of transparent tubing, stapled directly to the stone, all of