Emperor-for-Life: DeadShop Redux (Unreal Universe Book 6)

by Lee Bond

  That last question was directed at Elijah, though it was Chassie who answered.

  She nodded once, firmly, keeping all six in her eyes. There was a difference about them now, a kind of … relaxed readiness that were most unlike the martial attitude and stance they’d adopted after they’d picked up the basics of what it meant to be on the Outside. Like they were ready for anything now, that there wasn’t anything this side of The Dome that could bring them any kind of fear at all any longer. Were an Enforcer to walk into the room, Chassie knew they'd be at that intruder's armor plated neck with bare teeth and clawed fingers at the snap of an old man’s fingers.

  What kind of world had been ‘neath The Dome?

  “’tis true. When I first ran into Chevy Pointillier in the rooftop garden across the way from Stack 17 and pegged him for someone not quite right, I knew I had to make my acquaintance.” Chassie flashed Pointer a bit of an apologetic smile. “It wasn’t entirely happenstance or fate that brought us together, Master Pointer, more … AI guesswork and a wee smidgeon of luck. We knew about the four of you long before many others did, because … we’re the ones who work with Arcadians. We got a tip, Eli went to the far side of 17, I went to the park with Gerry and Nonesuch. We were hoping to run into someone from there, and we just knew that you’d be soothed by our presence. Our … familiarity with how you think.”

  Chevy digested the news with a bit of a sour look on his face, but there weren’t nowt he could do about it now; he –and now the others- were all the way into it now and that were that. He’d woken these lads and lassies up and e’en if their masters couldn’t tell right then and there, they were coming with him to 17 e’en if it meant severing all ties.

  You could not undo that fundamental loyalty to the Brotherhood.

  “If that were an apology for your subterfuge, miss,” Chevy smiled just as garrulously as he had in the olden days when he were talking a red-hot gearhead down from burning a village, “then I reckon you need to work on how your phrasing, hey? ‘Don’t mind me, kind old man, I is a random woman with babby and space alien in tow, oh hey, hain’t this a coincidence, but me and my husband are completely aware of who you are and what you’re doin’ ‘ere, but we shall take pains to pretend as if you ‘ave summat we is in the market for and by the by, you is welcome and we is somewhat sorry’.”

  Windim barked harsh laughter at Pointer’s high-pitched falsetto and fancy way of moving his hands and legs. Seeing the ancient Gearman prance about like a woman in that heavy geared coat of his were hilarious. “Hain’t answered Thierry’s question, though, marm. Plain to see we’s s’posed to join Pointer in his madness to do summat in 17, but wot do you get out of it?”

  Chassie –still red under the collar at Pointer’s teasing- nevertheless answered without hesitation. “’tis going to be a war in there, friends. I shall leave it up to Pointer to give you the particulars of the whos and whats, but it isn’t going to be pretty. Might even be the worst thing you’ve ever gotten into since coming Outside. What’s he promised? He’s promised that when you six are done, whosoever remains alive will be worth twenty instead of three. You’ll be transformed from feared warriors into the kinds of men and women the Universe over will tremble in awe of. Awe of? That don’t sound right, not at all. Either way, Windy, you take my meaning. From there, you will gain positions as noted trainers. We’ll pull as many of our ‘dogs back and you’ll retrain them in the ways you remember out there, in 17.”

  Turner –brain burning in it’s own stew at some of the horrible shite he’d gotten up to ‘neath The Dome and before King’s Eye- raised a hand, looked foolishly at it, then stated his question anyways. “What if we ain’t want to go, hey? What then?” When some of the others made muted noises of disapproval, he hastened to explain. “Look, I is not ask for myself, specifically, but … look. Pointer there, ‘e’s talkin’ about goin’ against a mad Gearman and two fucking Obsidian Golems. Hain’t no way of knowin’ what Golems are like Outside, but I was seein’ ‘em once or twice in the olden days. I is know firsthand what they is capable of. One alone is bad enough, hey? Two in the same ring? E’en if they is fightin’ one another first, e’en if some of what we got now on the Outside is capable of doin’ permanent-like damage to those crazy fings, it might cost us all our lives to take down a single one. Is that summink we want to risk?”

  Thierry chewed on his upper lip, contemplating Turner’s words. They all were. And as much as he hated to admit it, Turner wasn’t wrong. Golems and crazed Gearmen. The stuff of nightmare, neatly and prettily stored inside a vast, sealed container full of other men and women who –while not Arcadians, not by a longshot- were nevertheless going to be possessed of an extreme desire to live, and if that meant killing others, so be it.

  “Has Trinity responded?” Thierry asked of Eli.

  “About an hour ago, five Enforcers were seen entering 17 through the roof. Using standardized BAM-breach tactics, they literally burned holes large enough to gain access.” Eli read this from the handheld. “Shortly thereafter, a woman was seen entering through one of those very same holes in a stolen aircar.”

  “That’d be Agnethea, then.” Chevy nodded. The lights in his head jostled a bit, but otherwise stayed thankfully immobile. Knowin' Agnethea, she were like as not doin' some sightseein', especially since she were the only one not afoot and therefore the only one wi' time to kill 'ere the end.

  “Five Enforcers.” Thierry pushed his lips together until they were thin white lines. Sveta and Linders were flat out shaking their heads now, and Windim, Windim was staring out the window, muttering under his breath about how they’d all lost their damn minds a second time in as many minutes. Norcross and Turner weren’t saying much of anything at the moment. “What’s in 17, Pointer? What are we all going over there for? You made mention of it. Is anything worth this kind of risk?”

  “Oh aye, lad. ‘tis worth your deaths, my death, e’en the deaths of your master and lady here. Might e’en be worth the deaths o’ every man, woman and babby in 17 to keep it out of the hands o’ any one of the Arcadians as are on the way to it.” Chevy nodded assiduously, wringing his hands together in the process. A bit of playacting, hey, but so what? These Arcadians needed to get their arses in gear. They were done palavering. “Book it be that they hunt for, and it burns in all our heads like the brightest star in the midnight sky. As do each other, don’t we just. I can point to where they are, if I am provided with a map of sufficient detail.

  Book, lads and lassies, were once carried by the Onyx Brigadier who did become King Himself once the dust was settled, a man you may know by the name of Garth Nickels.” A few muted gasps, a stifled curse word of dubious origin and a direct flinch from Linders and Thierry suggested to the old man that these here Arcadians were more than familiar with the King of New Arcadia. “Aye, and this Book, well it has everything the man ever thunk in it. Doesn’t it just? Beyond that, it has bits and pieces o’ the man itself, and as you’re all Arcadians who once had Dark Iron coursing in place of blood, I warrant you’ll all agree without too much fuss that stuff made from King’s Will can do miraculous things, so if I is sayin’ he who touches Book gets parts of that man inside him … I is carryin’ about a bit of the man’s tinkerin’ aspect. Can lay my hands on a thing and make it do my bidding, or I can sit at a drafting table and sketch myself out a new garment of wondrous design. It’s a dead cert me old friend Dom Breton’s picked up summat of the man’s fightin’ skills, hey, makin’ ‘im one of the currently most dangerous people over in yon 17.

  Now, I know a great deal more about what’s goin’ on inside Master Nickels’ ‘ead than most, but that hain’t my story to tell. All’s I will say on the matter is I do not want a single other person than myself layin’ hands on that there Book as it’s powered up and ready to turn whosoever does clap a dusty digit on’t into summat we do not need Out here.”

  Windim finally found his voice. “What makes you so better, hey? What gives you the right to slap a gripp
er on this here Book and nowt one of the others?”

  “Well, lad,” Chevy took a deep breath, “I is the only one willin’ to destroy it, hey? What? Me? Turn into summat else? I is well ancient, boys and girls, barely capable of liftin’ teacup to dry old lips. Become like Master Nickels? Head full of destruction and death and all that? Run 'round this Unnyverse, bein' a hero and villain all wrapped up in the same long coat? Sounds wearisome to me! Get filled up with wotever else is ‘twixt those beautiful pages? Not fuckin’ likely, son. We is in the Outside now. I hain’t seen nuffink of it, save this ugly old place and you unhandsome lot. No, no, once I get hands on Book, it goes right into the incinerator, and I, yours truly, I is earned myself a vacation. Now, go on wi’ ye. I can see you’d all prefer to ‘ave a bit of a chinwag on your own. Me and Eli and Chassie will go and have ourselves a nice cup of tea whilst you lot palaver over the fate of the world. It’ll be fine.”

  Chevy scooped Eli and Chassie up and they moved closer to the doors leading out.

  ***

  “Bit rough on them, weren’t you?” Chassie demanded bluntly once they were out of earshot.

  “Not a bit of it, miss.” Chevy jerked a chin at the bickering Arcadians. “You fink they’re tough now, lass, you should’ve seen ‘em before, when they was bad. Seen a man ‘ave his arm pulled right off more’n once, only to laugh as ‘e stuck it back on and went right back to fightin’.”

  “This isn’t the Inside, Pointer.” Eli reminded firmly. “If they lose a limb, it won’t be going right back on as easy as all that.”

  “I suppose you’re not wrong, Eli, but the truth is, we hain’t got time to fuck about.” Chevy tapped the side of his head with two blunt fingers. “They is bunged up for now, but not for long, hey? Fires need to be lit under arses. We is all in danger and the longer we is fuck around, the worse it gets.”

  “You paint your old friend and these … Golems … in a fairly frightful light, Pointer.” Chassie’s concerns were very evident in her voice and in the way she subconsciously clutched onto Eli’s shirt sleeve. “How do you think you can, even with their help, stop all three? Not to mention the Enforcers?”

  “As I said ‘ere now, Miss, I is got Master Nickels’ inventiveness, hey? Fair to say I got me a few ideas on how to deal wi’ all that. Your lot just need to get me there, stay alive, and do what comes natural, hey?” Chevy adjusted his stance, because what were coming next might not make him any friends. “Now, there is one other thing I must bring up, and it hain’t goin’ to sound pretty or nice or even all that friendly, especially after all you’ve done up to this point, but it’s got to be said else I won’t be sleepin’ well at nights.”

  “By all means, Master Pointer.” Eli and Chassie spoke in unison, then smiled at one another.

  Keeping his tone and posture as neutral as possible –because of who was at his back, it was best to play it smart- Chevril Pointillier, Gearmaster for Fallen Arcadian, delivered his threat. “If I is find out or even suspect in any way that you is gettin’ one of these lads or lassies to lay hand on Book for you instead of lettin’ me do the proper fing, which is destroy it right quick, not only will their guts be ‘angin’ from all available rooftops as warning to all as cross a Gearman, I will drag my arse ‘ere and make it my personal business to deliver a warning to anyone you is knowin’ that you simply. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Chevril. Pointillier.”

  Eli opened his mouth to respond in kind, Chassie simply squeaked in shocked outrage and Chevy … Chevy turned around to greet Thierry. “And well here they is, all decided up and ready to give me an answer. What shall it be, boys and girls? Risk life and limb to stop a cracked ex-Gearman and two vile Golems from becoming like the Specter, thereby saving at the very least this single world and at most, the entirety of everything, or shall we hie off to some furthest planet for some drinks and a rousing game of ‘Drown Our Sorrows’?”

  “Lay off wi’ the knife turning, would you, old man?” Thierry jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We is all in. All the way. We hain’t recollect too much at the moment about King’s Will, but what we do remember tells us this hain’t a time to be overly worried about our own grisly skins. And it’s like you said previous. We is only worth three or four apiece right now, but doin’ proper battle in 17 alongside an actual Gearman and all? Those who come out on top will be able to command any price. But mostly it’s the other thing.”

  Chevy clapped a hand on Thierry’s shoulder and smiled warmly. “Welladay, lad, welladay indeed. Come, let us sit and talk about how best to prevent apocalypse from occurring today.” As the two of them walked over to where the other Arcadians were already prepping a table for discussion, the Gearman looked over his shoulder at his backers. It were hard to tell, but they did look genuinely upset at the intimation they were trying to pull a fast one on him.

  Welladay indeed.

  So long as they stayed indignant.

  Kill Everyone, That’s What I’m Saying. Just, Like, All of‘Em

  "This place is a fucking nightmare." Dom hawked up a gob of spit and launched it into the relative darkness at his feet. "And that is sayin' summat, hey, as I were in a place not too long ago as was absolute shite. Name of Ickford. Rotten as anyfing I ever experienced, hey, but as I move through this grotty place, I fuckin' see this whole place is worse than Ickford combined."

  "How do you mean?" Zorno asked, scratching idly at his exposed stomach. Traveling with Dom meant loads of explosive violence and a tendency to get hurt really quickly and fairly easily, but once all the mayhem was done, he had enough wisdom to spend a few minutes looking around for food and ways to relax.

  Almost as if he'd been doing this kind of traveling his whole entire life.

  "You lot." Dom pointed out the core members of his crew and the scraggly pricks they'd picked up along the way; them as they encountered as had the wisdom to join their merry little crew were allowed to continue breathing so long as they fought, and them as didn't … didn't.

  Zorno chuckled at Dom's vague statement. "Us lot." he reiterated for clarification. "In what way are us lot making 'this place' even worse than a place that is called Ickford?"

  "It's like this, mate." Dom leaned back a bit against the building he was sat against, willing to push what was coming up next onto the backburner for a little while longer. He weren't really in the mood as he knew more than the others what were going to be the fallout. "Near as I can tell, you lot’re all supposed to be normal, yeah? As in, normal men and women goin' 'round doin' as you do, livin' your lives an' havin' babbies and jobs and whatnot, yet here you are, completely fuckin' mennal for violence. It's like you is all gearheads and wardogs, hungry for the rough stuff when you hain't got no reason for't. That's wot I mean. Where I is from, the only people like this are them as has Kingsblood pumpin' through their blackened hearts, hey? That stuff drives men and women to sick perversions, twists 'em inside 'emselves, right, and from there, they just … wreck shit. Hain't got a stretch o' decency in 'em no more, no matter wot me old mate Chevy has to say on the matter."

  Zorno -who was by no means an angel- took offence at what the new boss was saying. Not for himself, because he knew precisely who and what he was, but for those people graced enough with luck or providence to have a better life than others. "You're very keen on making very broad statements, Dom, the kind as can't be backed up by words alone. You haven't seen anything of the rest of this world, or any other world. Excluding the topmost layers where the rich and powerful live, Stack 17 isn't what you'd call on best terms with life. Everyone here has led a hard life. If there's something you should understand about us, it's that. Can't be judging the whole of Humanity from here. You might be rough and tough and ready to kill everyone who gets in your way, and that's just fine, but out here, you're still just a kid. You haven't had any experience."

  That statement tickled Dom in just the right spot. He tilted his head back and howled with laughter that echoed through the area, bouncing off walls and windows and drawing s
tartled looks from his crew. "I is anyfing but young, Zorno. That which I 'ave been through on the Inside? Makes a man old on the spot. Harrowing deviltry on all sides, my friend, and that hain't e'en including the last few hours in Ickford. I am as old the hills these days, Zorno."

  Zorno let the matter drop. There was a particular bleakness to Dom's voice that said quite clearly that if they continued on down this road, he’d be hearing about dark matters that the man had only alluded to so far, and Zorno was more than all right with remaining in the dark; when the man got like this, it was just … better to let him have his moods.

  So instead of treating himself to more of Dom's darkening disposition, he gestured towards the brightly lit elevator bank that they'd been eyeballing for the last half an hour. "What you think, then? Don’t look good, does it?"

  Dom pushed himself off the ground. "No, lad, it don't, not at all. But 'tis better than making way down another one of those god-awful stairwells, hey? Hain't in the mood for close quarters action like that ever again."

  Everyone in earshot of the two men shifted awkwardly where they stood.

  Their descent through one of the rarely used and even more rarely known emergency stairwells situated here and there throughout each level had been grim and near about the worst thing many of them had ever endured; Zorno didn't know if the situation with being separated from the rest of Zanzibar had prompted the shift or if the bastards they'd come across whilst running through the three hundred foot descent had been there awhile, but Zorno knew one thing for certain.