Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

Lewis considered the damage a terrorist could do just by lobbing a grenade through the door and running like hell, and then decided he was better off not thinking about things like that. He was sure someone was on guard. Somewhere.
    Lewis paused just inside the doorway, looking about him. No one paid him much attention, even in his specially designed black leather armor. In fact, this was probably one of the few places he could go and not be immediately approached and fawned over. Here, he was just another Paragon. Or rather; he used to be just another Paragon. He was the Champion now, like it or not. Lewis deliberately pushed that thought aside, and slowly made his way through the crush of the crowd, heading for a familiar face he'd spotted at the bar.
    He needed to be among friends and colleagues. People he could talk to. People who would understand.
    Veronica Mae Savage, Paragon for Tiger Mountain (a Rim world famous for possessing neither mountains nor anything remotely like a tiger)
    was leaning against the bar with a pint glass in her hand, holding forth to a group of handsome and well-bred young men, who were hanging on her every word and laughing loudly at jokes they shouldn't even have been able to understand, if they were really as well bred as they seemed. In fact, one of them was demonstrating how he could use part of his anatomy as a swizzle stick. Veronica Mae spotted Lewis approaching, bellowed his name above the din, and beckoned him over with an accommodating wave.
    The good-looking young men reluctantly made room for him next to their heroine, and she leaned precariously off her bar stool to kiss him loudly on both cheeks.
    "Well, well, look who it isn't! Lewis bloody Deathstalker, his own bad self! Looking good, Lewis ... sit down with me and have several drinks. One of these boys will pay. If they know what's good for them.
    Good boys, good boys . . . and such excellent taste. Got anything you want signed, boys? I sign anything, up to and including body parts." She drank thirstily from her tall glass and then blinked owlishly at Lewis, ignoring the froth on her upper lip. "Love the black leather, Lewis. It's so not you. Want to see my piercings?"
    Lewis allowed one of her groupies to buy him a cold beer, and sat down opposite Veronica Mae. The other groupies pressed as close as they could, to make it clear they had no intention of being excluded from the conversation. Veronica Mae grinned sloppily with her pale pink mouth, a woman of medium height and more than a little stocky, with a broad face under a mass of golden curls, held down by a big floppy tam-o'-shanter. It had been twenty years and more since she left her homeworld of New Caliban, but she still wore the heavy tweed cloak of her upbringing. She'd brightened up her Paragon's armor with extra steel spikes and studs, and wore a knuckle duster on her left hand. Even in bed. Savage by name and by nature, Veronica Mae was past her best years, but as yet no one had worked up the courage or deathwish to tell her that. She'd come to her post relatively late in life, and next to Finn was the longest-serving Paragon in the Empire.
    "So, Lewis; what are you doing here?" Veronica Mae said flatly. "Been ... what, four years since we worked together on the firejewels mystery, out by the Burning Waterfalls? Five years? Jesus, where does the time go? Anyway; didn't expect to see you here. Didn't think you'd want to mix with us lower orders anymore. Not now you're the Imperial Champion." Lewis shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm still a Paragon at heart." "You're the Champion," Veronica Mae said forcefully. "King's bodyguard. And good luck to you; always said you were a better choice than the Durandal. Worked with him once. Never again. Humorless bastard. Got all huffy, just because I put my hand on his knee. Pretty face and a really nice arse, but no fire in his boiler. All he cares about is looking good for the media. What are you doing here, Lewis? This is a Paragon bar."
    "Just thought I'd talk with" some old friends," said Lewis, trying to keep it light. "Catch up on what's happening. You know; just hang out." Veronica Mae looked at him, almost pityingly. "You're not a Paragon, and you're not a groupie. What other business could you have here, Lewis? Go back to the Court. Or Parliament. That's where you belong now. Champion. Now if you'll excuse me, me and the boys have some serious drinking and revelling to do. Not necessarily in that order. Isn't that