Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

get some payback by helping us set up our site. Pretty soon we’ll be able to tap into the official news feeds whenever we feel like it. And I’m going to be the face on the screen! Nina Malapert, presenter and superstar! Mummy will be so proud.”
    “But what are you going to say?” said Stuart. “People will watch for a while out of curiosity, but you’re going to need something dramatic to show them to keep their attention.”
    “Well, I’ll tell them how bad things are here in the Rookery!”
    “They won’t care. They’ve got their own problems, living under Emperor Finn. You need to offer them something they don’t know.”
    “Like what?”
    “Hope,” said Douglas.
    Nina and Stuart both looked at him quickly, but he was gone again, lost in his own bitter thoughts. Nina patted him gently on the arm, and took the dirty plates over to the far-from-hygienic sink in the corner. Stuart surged suddenly up onto his feet, glaring at Douglas.
    “Damn you, Douglas, you make me sick! How much longer are you going to sit around feeling sorry for yourself? This isn’t your personal tragedy! People are dying every day under Finn. Your people! Finn murdered your father, took over your throne, and named himself Emperor! What does it take to move you? To make you a man again?”
    Douglas looked up, and what was in his eyes made Stuart fall back a step. And there was no telling what might have happened next if the mood hadn’t been suddenly broken by shouting from the street outside. Someone was calling for Douglas and Stuart by name. They looked at each other, and then they went over to the window and cracked it open as far as it would go. Nina squeezed determinedly in beside them. Down in the street, the protection racketeer they’d let go earlier had returned, with a whole new crowd of friends and associates. Big, brutal-looking men, loaded down with weapons and body armor. The two bravos for hire who should have been guarding the hotel were already dead, their gutted bodies hanging from lampposts. The hotel owner, his wife, and their three small children stood inside a circle of drawn swords, clinging to each other. The ringleader of the gang was looking up at Douglas, Stuart, and Nina. A large man, a fat man, in an area where most people went to bed hungry. He wore the very latest fashions, but a thug in silks is still a thug. He was smiling cheerfully.
    “Well, hello up there! I’m Brion de Rack. These men work for me. So did the ones you killed, but I’m not one to bear a grudge. Does an organization good to have the deadwood trimmed, now and again. You have surprised me, gentlemen, and that’s not easy. Now do be good boys and come down and talk with me. Or I’ll kill your present employer, and his family, while you watch. Slow and nasty and very messily. What’s it to be, gentlemen?”
    Douglas and Stuart drew back from the window and looked at each other.
    “Well?” said Stuart. “What is it to be?”
    “We don’t owe them anything,” said Douglas. “Don’t even know them. But . . . if we back down from scum like these, we’ll never get any peace.”
    “Oh, silly me,” said Stuart. “I thought we might go down because innocent people needed to be rescued. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
    “Don’t push your luck,” said Douglas. “I’m really not in the mood.”
    “But we are going down?”
    “Yes, Stuart,” Douglas said, smiling suddenly. “We’re going down.”
    “I’m going to get my really big gun,” said Nina.
    “You’re going to stay in the background,” Douglas said sternly. “Because you never know when an unsuspected backup will come in handy.”
    “Oh, poo,” said Nina. “I never get to have any fun.”

    Back behind their anonymous leather masks, Douglas Campbell and Stuart Lennox pushed open the hotel front door and stepped cautiously out into the main street. Crowds had already gathered, watching from a safe distance. De Rack and his men were waiting. The thugs and bullyboys reacted strongly when they realized Douglas and Stuart both had energy guns in their hands, but de Rack gestured easily, and they quieted again. Up close, de Rack looked even bigger, and uglier. Stuart couldn’t help feeling that de Rack was the one who should have been wearing a mask.
    “It really is very simple,” the big man said easily. “I can’t have two such excellent fighters as your good selves working as independents. Not in my territory. Might give people