by Richard Ford
Something was wrong here; he could feel it. Despite the seeming façade of normality something was up – or at least it was about to be. It was the almost imperceptible rumbling from up ahead that first gave it away. A barely existent murmur amongst the crowd that made him stop in his tracks.
Then he heard the screams, and he was off like the clappers; like a baited hare rushing from its hole. While most of the museum’s other patrons began to head away from the cries of alarm Blaklok headed straight for them, barging his way through the retreating crowd, and as he got within eyeshot of the Key of Lunos he saw the telltale red robes of the cultists of Legion.
The bastards had beaten him to it!
Above, the mezzanine was in chaos, with men, women and children running in all directions in their haste to escape from the fiendish thieves. The creatures were running rampant, clawing and rending at civilian and custodian alike.
Blaklok couldn’t see the Key, it had been removed from its plinth, the sturdy cage that safeguarded the exhibit having already fallen, but there was no one trapped inside.
Two deafening blasts rang out as a custodian let rip with his carbine, but the cultists seemed unstoppable. As Blaklok closed in, one of the red-robed beasts leapt upon the firer, rending and tearing with tooth and claw. Blaklok could hear the strangled screams but he was no longer looking, his eyes busy scanning the rampaging monsters to see which one held the Key of Lunos.
Then he saw it, it was held in an animal’s grip but Thaddeus recognised those keen eyes, those familiar features recognisable as once human. Castor Cage was bounding right towards him, the Key clutched in one black taloned hand.
Blaklok raced forward, determined to bring Cage down before he could escape but at the last minute the cultist changed direction, leaping over the banister of the mezzanine to the ground twenty feet below. Blaklok silently cursed, begrudgingly admiring Cage for his superhuman abilities, and then leaped after him.
He hit the ground hard, falling on his side, his shoulder slamming into the marble floor. After scrambling unsteadily to his feet he caught sight of Cage bounding towards the exit. Thaddeus set off running, mixing with the fleeing crowd and quickly realising he would never make it to the door in time to stop the escaping cultist. All around was confusion, and the custodians of the Repository were starting to fire randomly into the crowd in the hope of bringing down the robed beasts that ran amok.
Blaklok moved forward, stalking one of the custodians who was firing wildly. His elbow smashed into the helmeted face, shattering the visor and dropping the custodian to the ground. Before the man fell, Blaklok snatched the carbine from his limp fingers.
He took three swift steps forward, enough to give him a decent view of his target, then swiftly aimed and fired. Three deafening reports blared out, answered by three metallic explosions as the carbine rounds impacted against the lock of a metal cage. The huge lizard inside suddenly stirred from its slumber, seeing the door to its prison slide open just a crack.
Quickly it took its chance and moved, something Blaklok had been counting on. As the beast burst from the open pen, Castor Cage was just bounding past. The lizard roared its triumph, blocking the cultist’s path, and Blaklok could see the look of horror on Castor’s face. He wasted no time – as the two creatures faced off against one another, Blaklok ran, his focus once again locked on the Key.
Castor Cage made to move around the creature but it shifted its huge bulk to block his escape route. With a feral roar, Castor leapt to attack, clutching the Key protectively to his chest. The lizard growled in reply, sweeping a huge claw at the mass of scales and red robes as they shot towards it. Cage was hit squarely, a vicious blow that would have finished any normal man. He was flung backwards, his arms spreading wide and his fingers loosening on the Key. It spilled on the shiny marble floor, bouncing away from the cultist’s grip, and came to rest right at Blaklok’s feet.
In less than a second Cage had recovered, spinning to his feet, but the Key was already in Blaklok’s tight fist. Rage crossed Cage’s feral features as he recognised his foe, and he made to charge, but Blaklok had already raised the carbine. With a sly wink he pulled the trigger, sending a blast right into the charging cultist’s chest. Cage was flung back towards the rampaging lizard, sliding along the smooth marble and leaving a trail of crimson ichor.
Madness still raged all around as the custodians tried desperately to stem the tide of beastly cultists. Blaklok was not about to wait and assess their progress, and moved quickly towards the exit. Luckily the huge lizard had the same idea and made its last bid for freedom.
As the beast headed for the door, Thaddeus was happy to run after it, easily moving through the carnage it left in its wake. The custodians rained shot after shot at the beast but it kept on moving, heedless of the wounds being inflicted on its scaly hide. With a triumphant roar the lizard bowled through the phalanx of custodians and smashed its way out of the door. Blaklok could see daylight streaming through the wide-open portal left by the creature.
He was nearly out.
Gunfire suddenly blazed all around him, and Thaddeus realised the custodians had spotted him, the Key held firmly in his grip. Some shouted for him to halt, while others were content to rain shots in his direction. Blaklok ducked, trying to find cover against the onslaught, and moved behind a wide pillar. Shards of marble were blown from the massive colonnade, trimming its width as Blaklok cowered behind. He looked around for a means of escape, seeing the door, blasted wide and beckoning to him, but if he tried to make a break for it he would be cut to shreds. To top it all, the bloody figure of Castor Cage was slowly rising from where Blaklok had gunned him down.
Did nothing stop this fucker?
He glanced around desperately looking for an out. Then he spotted it, glowing like a beacon of hope amongst the chaos. The fire elemental winked and flittered within its glass case, perpetually searching for freedom, bouncing from each of the walls in its transparent prison.
Blaklok’s first shot cracked the reinforced glass, his second sent shards flying across the room. The flickering creature was free. For a second it paused, as though not quite able to believe it had a way out. Then it shot forth, zooming across the hallway like a meteorite, expanding with each passing second until it was a torrent of shooting flame. There was a howl as the inferno began to engulf all in its path, igniting exhibits and custodians alike. Carbines were emptied into the creature but they only seemed to fuel it as it rampaged around. Blaklok was not about to wait and see what happened next.
Taking huge strides he was out from behind the pillar and headed for the street. One of the custodians still had the presence of mind to try and stop him, firing a shot that fell well wide of its mark as Blaklok dived through the door into daylight. He crashed down the stairs and came to rest on the hard pavement of Gull Street. The bedlam inside the Repository could still be heard as screams, howls, growls and fiery light streamed from within the smashed doorway.
Blaklok stood and opened his palm, looking at the Key in his hand. He allowed himself a smile. His mission was almost complete.
‘Going somewhere with that, Mr Blaklok?’
It was a woman’s voice, and one Blaklok recognised.
The Indagator stood with her hungry looking tipstaffs at her shoulders. One had a carbine raised and aimed; the other held a banded club at his side. They both had white knuckles and eager stares, desperate to be given the order to let rip.
Blaklok glanced down at the heavy carbine in his hand, seeing into the empty chambers that no longer held any ammunition.
‘Bollocks,’ he whispered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘There’s nowhere to run to, Mr Blaklok,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Even for a man of your astonishing powers of escape.’
Blaklok rarely hit women, and only then when expressly necessary, but this bloody Indagator was starting to get right on his wick. Let him meet her without the armed henchmen and see how smug she was then.
&nb
sp; ‘Isn’t that the Key of Lunos?’ she continued. ‘What would a man like you want with such an important artefact?’
‘I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,’ replied Thaddeus conversationally. He was looking directly at her but all the while scanning the periphery of his vision for some way out, some distraction he could take advantage of. If they took him back to the Ministry of the Judicature he didn’t fancy having to bite off another digit. That was if he was given the opportunity. Considering the miraculous nature of his last escape he might find himself trussed up under twenty-four hour watch, and that would make escaping really difficult.
‘How remiss of me, Mr Blaklok,’ she said, feigning embarrassment. ‘I am Indagator Amelia, First Class of the Judicature. And these are–’
She never got a chance to finish the sentence.
Screaming like a thunderbolt from the doorway of the Repository came a searing, blinding streak of fire. One of her henchmen turned and fired his carbine at the conflagration, while the other ducked, covering his head.
Blaklok didn’t need any further encouragement. He dropped his own carbine and set off running. It was only then he noticed what a mess had been made of the street. Whether it was the fleeing museum patrons or the rampaging lizard he could not tell, but detritus was strewn all over Gull Street. Discarded footwear, an overturned newsstand and even a smashed-in steamtram were strewn across the thoroughfare. Blaklok was only glad he wasn’t the one who had to clean it all up.
As Thaddeus sprinted down the street, a glance over his shoulder revealed that this Amelia woman was not about to give up the chase so easily. Even as the fire elemental danced in swirls, celebrating its new found liberation, she and her men began their pursuit. A carbine blast ricocheted off the railing to one side of Blaklok’s head, and he realised that if he continued down Gull Street he would be an easy target.
He bounded to his right, through a gap in the cast iron fence and towards the door ahead of him. It was only when he had burst through the doorway he realised he was inside the exotic meat emporium that stood next door to the Repository.
Immediately he was assailed by an almighty stench.
Considering the fact people paid good money to eat what was prepared here, there seemed to be little diligence paid to cleanliness. Carcasses hung from hooks, meaty thighs ending in cloven hooves next to unidentifiable fowl, stripped of feather and clipped of beak. The walls and floor were daubed in gore, and Thaddeus almost slipped on the goo underfoot.
Two of the emporium’s workers glanced up as Blaklok burst in. Both were attired in bloodied aprons over stained smocks that might once have been white. One wore a mask and chainmail gloves, and wielded a gigantic cleaver. The other seemed old and greasy, a half-chewed, half-smoked rollup dangling from the corner of his mouth.
Blaklok wasn’t about to hang around for introductions. He piled on through the emporium, dodging the hanging meat, ignoring the stench and the squelching noises his feet made on the tiled floor. The butchers shouted something at him as he raced by but he wasn’t interested – it was hardly likely they were offering him a deal on cutlets.
The back of the emporium was cordoned off by a segmented plastic sheet that hung from ceiling to floor, and Blaklok burst through the slimy curtain, making a mental note to bathe vigorously when he next got the chance. The back of the emporium stank worse than the front, and he almost gagged as he moved deeper into the building. Here, more butchers went about their work, cleaving, slicing and sawing at what looked like the most dubious cuts of meat Blaklok had ever seen. He had never considered becoming a vegetarian, he liked the taste of dead flesh far too much, but he would rather have eaten his own head than sample the goods from this particular outlet.
Behind him he could hear the door to the emporium burst open and angry voices shouting out curt demands. The Indagator and her lackeys were not far behind.
Blaklok was suddenly instilled with a greater sense of urgency. Gripping the Key ever more tightly he bowled past the slabs covered in animal parts and the crates that sat beside them. Try as he might not to glance in them he couldn’t help himself, catching sight of what lay within and instantly regretting it. He was sure he caught sight of an eye staring out from some creature’s head. It had seemed almost human.
Dismissing it, Blaklok spotted a back door to the place.
As he burst into the backyard he sucked in a huge gulp of fresh air. It was still tainted with the stench of raw and decaying flesh but it was a relief from the cloying rot inside the emporium.
He hurtled through the gate and sprinted down an alleyway. The place was awash with rats and pigeons, fighting over scraps left by the meat emporium. As Blaklok’s footfalls splashed through the creatures in their brawling melee they paid no heed, so intent were they on their battle for carrion.
Behind he could just make out the sound of raised voices as his pursuers continued after him. Dropping a shoulder Blaklok barged through a side gate and down another alleyway. The sight of a rusted fire escape filled him with hope. If he could make it to the rooftops he was sure he would be able to lose the hunters. The back streets and rooftops were his domain, and he was as surefooted as any when it came to treading the gables and gambrels overhead. He could only hope that this Indagator and her men were not so well practised.
Without stopping Blaklok launched himself towards the ladder, quickly scaling it to the first balcony. From his elevated position he could just make out his trio of pursuers, the two tipstaffs lumbering along, closely followed by the Indagator Amelia. As he scaled the second tier they spotted him.
The thug with the carbine let rip another blast but it fell well wide, as Blaklok continued to climb. He heard the woman say something, most of it inaudible against the clanging of his boots on the rusted ladder, but one word did stand out against the rest:
Alive!
She wanted him alive, which meant they weren’t going to gun him down when his back was turned.
Well that was the best news he’d had in ages.
Even so, he at least needed to make a good show of escaping, it wouldn’t do to be caught twice by the same mob in less than a day.
His pursuers began their climb after him, just as he reached the top. The roof was flat, interspersed with blackened chimneys and skylights. A loft of pigeons were startled into flight as he began to traverse the blackened asphalt, never slowing, always looking out for the next place to tread high up above the streets. The rooftops flashed by as he ran, looking for the higher ground, always taking a step upwards, higher and higher above the clangour below. Who could tell whether his pursuers were afraid of heights? It might help him the higher he got. A scared enemy was a careless enemy, but these three had shown him that the last thing they were was careless. Any advantage he could get might give him the edge he needed, and he was sorely in need of an edge.
Blaklok leapt a gap between the flat roof he was on to a sloping one and stopped, allowing himself a glance back.
Those bastards were gaining!
The one with the gun was no more than twenty yards behind, and he was taking aim. In an instant Thaddeus was away again, hearing the blaring report of the carbine, quickly followed by the clap of the shot blasting apart slate not three feet from him. This fellow was definitely shooting to miss. Either that or he was the worst shot in the Manufactory.
The further he ran, the more random and sprawling the rooftops became, seeming more like a maze, but Blaklok simply didn’t seem able to shake this lot. He knew it would eventually come to a fight, but he had to find ground to his advantage before he got himself cornered. The roof he was running up steepled at the top, then sloped downwards. Thaddeus half skidded, half ran down the other side, leapt across to another flat roof and waited.
As he watched, the one with the carbine soon appeared and stopped in his tracks, aiming his weapon and waiting for his fellow tipstaff. While the one with the gun kept it raised and aimed, the other one slid down the roof and made to leap a
cross.
That was when Blaklok moved.
The gunman couldn’t take his shot for fear of it being a fatal one, and by the time he could aim to wound, Blaklok was using his mate as a barrier. The tipstaff was in the air, leaping into space, gripping that cudgel he liked to use so much. Blaklok’s leg came up, aimed at his midriff. Moving through the air there was little the tipstaff could do to avoid the blow and it hit him hard, unbalancing him as he fell. Before he could sprawl to the black tar of the flat roof, Blaklok had him in his grip. The cudgel went spinning, and now they were on level terms, Blaklok’s strangler’s hands gripping tight to the fucker’s throat. He was a big one and no doubt, thickly muscled about the neck and shoulders, but obviously unpractised in unarmed combat. A man should never rely too much on one weapon – without it you were helpless.
In an instant, Blaklok was using him as a shield, backing away as quick as he could, throttling his prisoner all the while. The gunman followed but when he came to the edge of the roof he had to stop.
Blaklok glanced back; the roof’s lip was only feet away, and there was nowhere to go from here. This looked like it would end in a stalemate, and no mistake.
Panting for breath, Amelia crested the top of the roof and stumbled down the other side. She said nothing as she saw her man in Blaklok’s clutches. She either didn’t care, or she was trying to make it appear so.
If she was acting she was making a bloody good job of it.
Without a word she snatched the carbine from her tipstaff’s hand and jumped the gap in the roof, calmly closing the space between her and Blaklok. Thaddeus closed his grip on her man’s throat, causing him to gag. His face reddened as he was slowly asphyxiated, but she gave no reaction, smoothly cocking the carbine and taking aim. Again, Thaddeus could only wonder whether she was play acting or whether she really didn’t give a shit about her man.
