Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

ideas. Dangerous things, ideas. And there’s always the chance you might end up working for one of my enemies. A successful businessman such as myself acquires enemies, like a dog has fleas. So, you’re going to work for me. I pay good wages, there are all kinds of fringe benefits, and you have job security for life. Because whatever happens in the Rookery, I’ll always be here, taking my cut.”
    “And if we don’t feel like signing up with a small-time thug with delusions of grandeur?” said Douglas. “If, in fact, we say Go to hell ?”
    “In that unlikely event, my men will kill the hotel owner and his family in appallingly inventive ways, set fire to the hotel and burn it down, and kill anyone who comes running out of the flames. And finally my men will torture you to death right here in the street, as an example of what happens to those foolish enough to defy me.” De Rack shrugged apologetically. “A waste of good potential income, I admit, but business is business. You should feel flattered, gentlemen. I don’t usually have to pressure people to work for me. But there’s something . . . special, about you two. I can tell. Ex-military, right? Seen a lot of action, but couldn’t fit in with the Durandal’s new goody-goody regime? I thought so. You’re not just muscle, you’re muscle with brains, and I can always use people like that. I need quality, and you wouldn’t believe how rare that is in the Rookery, these days.”
    “Maybe you just weren’t looking in the right places,” said Stuart. “Or maybe you wouldn’t know real quality if you fell over it. Would you really kill everyone in this hotel, just to save face?”
    “Of course!” said de Rack. He gestured expansively at the crowd that had gathered out of nowhere to watch the free entertainment. “A man is only as good as his word, and if that word is a threat, so much the better. Discipline must be maintained. But don’t look on me too harshly, dear friends. I’m just a businessman, doing what it takes to get along. People . . . don’t matter here. Only power. The strength to take what you want, when you want it, and keep it.”
    “And to hell with everyone else?” said Stuart.
    “Exactly.”
    “Things . . . shouldn’t be like this,” Douglas said slowly.
    “Welcome to Finn’s Empire,” said Stuart. “Welcome to the world he made because there’s no one left to stop him.”
    “Someone should do something,” said Douglas.
    “If not you,” said Stuart, “then who?”
    “Excuse me,” said de Rack, “but I was talking. Ignore me again and I’ll have my men teach you a lesson in manners.”
    “Oh, hell,” said Douglas. His voice still sounded tired, but somehow he seemed to be standing straighter and taller. “It never ends, does it? There’s always work to be done. No matter how weary you are.”
    “We can rest when we’re dead,” said Stuart.
    “I wouldn’t put money on it,” said Douglas. “Nina, you’re on.”
    Nina Malapert stepped elegantly out of the hotel front door, holding the biggest handgun anyone present had ever seen. And while everyone was still gaping at her, Nina shot de Rack neatly through the chest. The energy blast blew him apart like a rotten apple. Even as the charred and smoking pieces were still flying through the air, Douglas and Stuart charged forward, sword in hand, and hit the men guarding the hotel owner and his family. The thugs and bullyboys didn’t even try to make a fight of it. They knew professional fighters when they saw them. Most just turned and ran, booed and catcalled by the watching crowd. Douglas and Stuart cut down those who didn’t run in no time at all. And as quickly as that, it was all over. The hotel owner shook Douglas and Stuart by the hand, over and over, babbling his relief and thanks. His wife and children regarded the two bravos with wide, worshipful eyes. The crowd was applauding loudly. Some even cheered. Protection racketeers had friends only when they were on top. There was also a clear element of surprise in the applause. Heroes were rare in the Rookery at the best of times, which these most definitely weren’t.
    Stuart shook thick drops of blood off his blade, and grinned at Douglas. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Doing what we were meant to do.”
    Douglas laughed briefly, a harsh resigned sound. “All right, knock it off. I’m back. It’s time to wake up and get involved again. For better or worse, the rebellion starts here.”
    Nina