Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

Lewis's eyes. "The Hellfire Club has marked you for death, Lewis Deathstalker!"
    Lewis sighed. Just looking at the devil, he could see half a dozen ways to disarm him without putting himself at risk, but he just didn't have the energy. He was composing a really crushing remark when a second figure suddenly erupted from the alleyway, wearing the black domino mask of a Shadow Court assassin, also pointing an energy gun at Lewis.
    "Say your prayers, King's Champion! The Shadow Court has sentenced you to ... to ... wait a minute.
    Get the hell away from him, you creepy little Hellfire amateur! The Deathstalker is mine!"
    "The hell he is!" snapped the devil, bringing his gun quickly around to cover the assassin. "I got here first.
    Piss off"
    "You piss off, you . . . dilettante! The Shadow Court outranks whatever claim you bunch of degenerates might have on the Deathstalker. So scuttle off back to your body shop, and see if you can still get a refund. And let a real professional deal with this."
    "Excuse me," said Lewis.
    "I got here first," the devil said stubbornly. "I'm going to shoot him."
    "I'll shoot you first," said the Shadow Court assassin. "The credit for this kill is mine. Let all beware the vengeance of the aristocrats!"
    "Bunch of pansies," snapped the devil. "Living on past glories, and bemoaning the good old days when you could still have sex with your cousin without people sniggering at you. You wouldn't have the guts to do the kind of things we do every day, just for kicks!"
    "Oh yeah?" challenged the assassin. "Like what? What do you weirdos do that's so damned special?
    Steal the lead off Church roofs and then urinate through the holes?"
    "At least we don't marry our brothers and sisters! Look at those ears of yours. You don't get ears like that without centuries of inbreeding and a gene pool so shallow you couldn't even go wading in it. If they were any longer, you could use them to fly."
    "You bastard. You utter bastard!"
    "Oh look!" crowed the devil. "He's going to cry now!"
    "I am not going to cry!"
    "Excuse me," said Lewis.
    "Shut up!" snarled the assassin, covering the devil with his energy gun. "You get out of here right now, or
    . . ."
    "Or what? You'll stamp your little foot? Ooh, I'm dead scared, me ..."
    "That's it! You're dead!"
    And that was when the third figure suddenly appeared, swooping down out of the empty sky on a gravity sled with no markings. He wore a long concealing black cloak with the hood pulled well forward to hide his face. He pulled the sled up right beside the group, and then had to stop and pull his hood back a bit so he could see what he was doing, before he could level his energy gun at Lewis.
    "Kneel and beg for mercy, Deathstalker! Your life is forfeit, for interfering in the manifest destiny of Pure Humanity. The Neumen . . .
    "Piss off!" said the assassin, his voice rising almost hysterically. "I don't believe this. What is this, amateur night? I am here to kill Lewis Deathstalker, and when the Shadow Court marks someone for death, they are bloody well dead. Go and find your own hero to kill."
    "We marked him for death first!" said the devil.
    "Prove it!" snapped the assassin.
    "I think you'll find Pure Humanity has the prior claim," said the Neuman, climbing awkwardly down from his gravity sled. He tripped over his long cloak and almost fell, till Lewis grabbed him by the arm to steady him. The Neuman absently nodded his thanks, and glared at the other two killers. "The Deathstalker killed our suicide bomber at Court. That makes him our target. You must have seen it. It was on all the news channels."
    "Oh, we all saw it," said the Shadow assassin. "Complete bloody balls-up, from beginning to end. You don't stand around making speeches when you've come to kill someone! If he'd just shut up and done his job, he might have pulled it off, but oh no, he had to justify himself with all the usual propaganda claptrap
    . . ."
    "Statements of intent are important!" said the Neuman. "What's the point of a terrorist atrocity if no one knows why you did it? There are so many fringe groups and looney tunes out there these days, it's vital to make it clear to the media whose cause you're representing; or you can bet a dozen other groups will have claimed responsibility before you can even get a press statement out."
    "Typical terrorist," sneered the devil. "All mouth and dogma, and no follow up. If you're going to kill someone, just kill him. Murder is a philosophical art, not a