Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

The place was already packed wall-to-wall, and the bouncer at the door tried to glare them away. Nina showed him her really big gun, and the bouncer decided there was room for just a few more after all.
    Inside, the smell was worse, if anything. The air was thick with a smog of various illegal smokes, and there wasn’t a chair or a stool to be had for love nor money. The crowd jostled together amiably enough, shouting at each other to be heard over the awful din. Nearly all of the men, women, and humanoid creatures were armed with weapons of some kind. The waitresses were all Madelaines (a popular clone franchise knockoff), and they circulated as best they could through the heaving press of bodies, dispensing drinks and bar food of dubious provenance. Douglas and Stuart forced their way through the crowd with heavy scowls and vicious use of the elbow, while Nina brought up the rear.
    “How the hell are we going to get their attention?” said Stuart, shouting right into Douglas’s ear.
    “Same way we did with de Rack,” said Douglas. “Nina, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”
    Nina didn’t mind at all. Grinning broadly, she kicked a few people in the shins to make some room, raised her very big gun, and blew a hole right through one wall. The clamor broke off abruptly as everyone present fought to draw their weapons or locate the nearest exit. Nina carefully lowered her gun. Douglas jumped up onto the nearest table and smiled calmly about him.
    “Everyone relax, it’s not a raid. Some of you may recognize me and my two friends as the ones who killed de Rack and broke up his protection racket. We did it because . . . people shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. Just as you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like this. Look at you—the descendants of a hero, a legend, and you’re reduced to hiding out in the Rookery, denied your true destiny, unable to fulfill your potential. Unable to prove yourselves worthy of the legend of Jack Random. I’ve come to show you a way out. A way to change your lives forever.”
    And he took off his leather face mask. For a long moment no one moved, held in a shocked silence, and then a great roar went up from the crowd as they recognized Douglas Campbell. One thought was in all their minds as they looked on the ex-Paragon and ex-King, and that thought was Money! The massive reward Finn had put on Douglas’s head, preferably no longer attached to the body, would enable them to live like Kings. (There was another, smaller reward on Stuart’s head. Finn could be sentimental that way, sometimes. He didn’t want Stuart to feel left out.)
    The whole crowd looked at Douglas with hungry eyes, and then surged forward as one to drag him down. Stuart and Nina defended both sides of the table with kicks and punches and the occasional head-butt. Nina in particular proved especially adept at dirty fighting. Douglas looked calmly out over the uproar, not even bothering to draw his sword or his gun, even when the clutching hands came very close to his legs. He raised his voice again, and almost despite themselves, the Bastards quieted to hear what he had to say. He was Douglas Campbell, after all, and his reputation went before him.
    “You must know my friends and I will kill a hell of a lot of you, before you can drag us down. I was a Paragon and a warrior long before I was a King. My friends are warriors too. You’re ready to fight and die for money, but not for your freedom? What would Jack Random think of that? He was the professional rebel; you’re just professional lowlifes. And not very successful ones, of late. Either you find the guts to fight back against Finn’s unjust rule, or pretty soon there won’t be any Random’s Bastards. He’ll pick you off one by one, and your heads will decorate rows of spikes outside the palace as an example to others. And Jack Random’s extended line will die with you. I never gave you any reason to love me, but at least I respected you. Finn’s law is harsher on you than I ever was. He’ll kill you all, because of the legacy of freedom and justice you represent. Your only hope lies in rebellion, and for that you need a leader everyone will follow. And that’s me.”
    A slow murmur moved reluctantly through the packed crowd. He’s not wrong. Times are bad. Bloody Church Militant everywhere. Can’t make a decent living anymore. Finn’s a swine, all right. Probably couldn’t trust him to pay the reward anyway. When the