Nightside 09 - Just Another Judgement Day

bleak.
    “Oh John,” he said. “What have you done?”
    “What I had to,” I said. “Revived an old terror to stop a new one.”
    “I was under the impression you had destroyed the vile thing.”
    “I did,” I said. “But some things just won’t stay gone. You should know that.”
    “I was there when a Shotgun Suzie appeared out of a possible future, with the Speaking Gun grated on to her mutilated arm,” said Walker.
    “I know,” I said. “I was there, too.”
    “Are you really prepared to put Suzie at such awful risk to preserve the new Authorities?”
    “Yes,” I said. “Because you’re not the only one who understands about duty and responsibility.”
    “And Suzie?” said Walker.
    “She’d want me to take the risk,” I said.
    “Yes,” said Walker. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

* * * *
    Upstairs, in the barely furnished back room, the new Authorities were preparing themselves for war. Julien Advent, the great Victorian Adventurer, sat at his ease in a chair tilted back against the far wall, polishing the slender steel blade that usually lay concealed in his sword-stick. His handsome, almost saturnine, features were completely without fear or concern. Julien had never cared whether he lived or died, as long as he was fighting on the side of the right. He had a certainty in his cause to match that of the Walking Man.
    Jessica Sorrow, that gaunt and still scary presence who used to be the Unbeliever, was striding up and down in her flapping black leather jacket, scowling at anything and everything. She’d only recently found faith in the everyday world and the people around her, and she was clearly furious at the prospect of having it all taken away from her again. Everyone else was keeping a cautious eye on her, and giving her plenty of room, just in case things started disappearing around her.
    Annie Abattoir, in a fabulous off-the-shoulder emerald green evening gown, was mixing something potent and noxious with an old-fashioned pestle and mortar, then using the resultant heaving mixture to daub disturbing symbols on to an Aboriginal pointing bone that looked big and mean enough to take out a blue whale. Her face was fixed and intent, but not altogether concerned. Annie had killed many men in her career, and to her the Walking Man was only another man.
    Shifting plasma lights sparked and sputtered on the air around Count Video, as he hovered in mid air in the middle of the room, concentrating on his weird binary magics. I always knew he could be a Major Player, if he could just grow a pair. I suppose there’s nothing like imminent death and the destruction of everything you believe in and care about to bring out the true nature of a man.
    King of Skin was crouching in one corner of the room, surrounded by dark and nasty images that could only be glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. I still couldn’t believe he was on the side of the Good, if only because the Good usually wouldn’t have him on a bet. But still, here he was, preparing to stand and fight with the others, when I would have bet good money he’d have been legging it for the horizon by now.
    Larry Oblivion sat alone, not looking at anyone, frowning heavily, caught up in whatever dead men think about. Of us all, he had the least to lose.
    The new Authorities, who had been and might yet be again my future Enemies. I could walk away and let them die. Except then, I would be the kind of man the Enemies always said I was. And I hate to be predictable.
    They all looked up with some kind of hope as I walked in, ignoring Walker and Chandra. I smiled and nodded to all concerned, doing my best to look relaxed and confident. Julien Advent got up from his chair, slipped his blade back into the stick, and strode forward to shake my hand in his usual hale and hearty way.
    “I knew we could rely on you, John. What have you found that will stop the Walking Man?”
    “He’s found something,” said Walker. “But you’re really not going to like it.”
    “Oh bloody hell,” said Larry Oblivion. “He hasn’t got Merlin up and walking around again, has he?”
    “Worse than that,” I said, savouring the moment despite myself. “I bring the Speaking Gun, and all that goes with it.”
    It went very quiet in the room. They all knew of the Speaking Gun, what it was and what it could do. I watched them considering the possibilities of whether it might actually be the one thing that would slap down the Walking Man, against whether