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

by Lee Bond

  And that was that they were lucky to be alive.

  Zorno -all of them, really- had seen a lot of stuff. It was part and parcel of the lives that'd been chosen for them, but those stairwell dwellers had been truly monstrous.

  Were it not for Dom and his vicious attitude and even more vicious skills with all things related to death and mayhem, he and all the others would've been spitted and on the roast right quick; the dwellers beneath the stairs had all had sharpened teeth and sharpened nails and … the crusty old thief shut his eyes.

  "True enough." Zorno pressed his lips together. Those stairwell dwellers. With their wild eyes and painted faces and sharpened teeth. Dom had blurred through them with a passion, breaking arms and crushing faces, grin wild and feral and flashing like warning lights in the night sky. "I'd rather die than try for another one."

  Dom laughed again, though this time, the sound seemed to commiserate with the other man's experience. "Ickford were like that stairwell, Zorno, just like it, hey, only … more. More bodies. More violence. More madmen than you could rightly count e'en if you had all the time in the world. Worst part of it is that e'en if you took 'em apart, why, they just put ‘emselves right back together again, didn’t they? They're all gone now save for some of them as we gonna run into later on, and you should count your lucky stars."

  "How could something like this Ickford … like the whole place … be allowed to be like that?" Zorno asked, simply amazed at how Arcade City's grim-yet-flowery description. Anyone living in Zanzibar or on Old Earth knew something of The Dome and of Arcade City, thought on what was underneath that great, clanking metal cap, but not once had he heard anything like this! Men and women, losing limbs, slapping them back on, ready to go! Strange fighters with lamplights for eyes, knives for teeth, metal cocks and crank-wound jaws.

  Zorno shivered in the air, no matter it was growing warmer by the minute, the air itself thinner with each breath.

  "Long story, mate, longer than I got either time or patience." Dom squared his shoulders. "Well, I is going to go on down there now."

  Zorno stuck a finger in his ear and made a great show of cleaning it out. "I'm sorry, Dom, but it sounded like you said you were going to go down there on your own."

  Dom looked over his shoulder. "Aye, I did. The situation down there hain't one as can be dealt with in a simple matter. They's locked in tight down there and near as I can tell, they is well and fully armed, ain't they just? The moment we try and strike from our own points, we won't be gettin' very far."

  "What d'you think you're gonna do?" Zorno watched Dom make his way towards the small stairwell that would take him down to the same level as the elevator, then hurried up to hear the man's plan.

  Or lack thereof.

  "Well, my son," Dom took the first few steps quickly, then slowed so the older Rapscallion could catch up, "first I is going to give all them military minded lads a quick rundown on what is goin' on, perhaps I might e'en ask them nice and polite if they'll just let us down wi'out too much of a fuss. Then I'll make the standard offer for any who might feel the need to come and join us in our merry little wander downwards into the guts of this cast-iron hellhole. And then…"

  Zorno knew Dom loved it when someone prompted him to finish his sentence, so that was what he did. No sense in failing to keep the madman in their midst anything less than pleasant. "And then what?"

  "Well, you lads and all shall rain down upon their heads all sorts of destruction once the distraction kicks in." Dom flashed those pearly whites of his and they glinted in the waning light from the overhead lamps. "Me bein' the distraction, of course."

  Dom took the rest of the stairs at a quicker pace, moving more speedily now that he didn't have to worry about playing by normal people's rules.

  Zorno watched Dom disappear between two buildings separating them all from the elevator banks for a wordless moment. The man was definitely augmented in some way, but when one of the others had asked him what kind of implants and where he'd gotten them, their leader had flown into a very impressive rage, going on and on about how he 'didn't need none as he were a fuckin' Gearman and the next boyo as asks that question is goin' to be needin' a new tongue to ask stupid questions as I'll be wearin' the old one as a fuckin' bowtie'.

  Everyone in the Rapscallions had silently agreed that they'd all take the time to warn new members of their growing gang of the particular things one should avoid when talking to an otherwise garrulous and chatty Dominic Breton.

  Dom's blonde noggin reappeared off in the distance, prompting Zorno to head back so he could let the Rapscallions know about the insanity that was about to blossom.

  ***

  Sherriff Slar Tongbok gave his binoculars a hearty thump and took another long, slow peek through them before looking over his shoulder to one of his men. "Am I seeing things right?"

  "Depends on what you're looking at, Sherriff." This, from Deputy Basset, perched calmly astride his mounted recoilless rifle. "Could be anything out there we can't see on account of because we don't have fancy night-vision binoculars like you do."

  "Basset, for the love of everything holy, if we survive this night and if Trinity decides to hook us back up to Zanzibar, two things will happen." Slar was tired and irritable and he wasn't looking forward to the paperwork that was involved when you wound up having to kill citizens. "One, I will get you your very own pair of fancy binoculars."

  Basset fiddled with the settings on his machine until he saw exactly what Tongbok was talking about, but he damned sure wasn't going to bring it up. "What's the second thing, Sherriff?" he asked through a grin.

  "Gonna to shove those binoculars sideways right up your arsehole." Slar pointed with a long finger at the man moving quickly through the streets on a path that was hard to ignore. "And we both know that the sights for your recoilless rifle are a damnsight better than these binoculars. He on file?"

  Basset made a point of sighing greatly before plugging a nicely grabbed still from the man's approach and waited. It didn't take long; 43-A might be a bit rough around the edges, but their criminal element was -relatively speaking- small and all the big players were known to the police.

  "Negative, Sherriff. He's an unknown. Heard rumors through the usual channels there's been some weird activity on all the levels. People, two or three, trying to move their way down. Could be true?"

  Sherriff Tongbok frowned. He'd heard the same rumors, and if they were even remotely true, he really didn't want to deal with anyone crazy enough to move downward. The further down you got, the crazier the people were. Which made anyone going down equally insane. If not more so. Still, though, if there was trouble like that, the other rumor -that there were Enforcers in the Stack- meant that Trinity was on top of things and they wouldn't have to do too much worrying.

  "That isn't something I'm willing to entertain." The Sherriff felt truly grotty. The moment the Stack had separated itself from the rest of Zanzibar, he'd literally just stood in his shower for a long, long moment, letting what was likely to be the last hot water he'd ever have run down his body. The night had started out rough, and when the last of the juice running from the backups was gone, it was going to get even worse.

  "Let the rest of the men know we've got a damn lunatic en route, will you, Basset. Encrypted channels, the whole nine. If he somehow is one of the persons of interest running roughshod over this Stack, there's a real good chance he's listening in."

  "10-4, Sherriff." Basset grabbed the com and dialed in the appropriate encryption for something like this and started speaking in calm, crisp tones.

  He immediately received confirmation from some of the boys on the roof of the huge elevator that they'd clocked a group of undesirables further up the level and that they were backtracking on the video to see if the odd guy with the blonde hair had come from the same location.

  Sherriff Slar Tongbok unlimbered himself from his auto-targeting fullbore laser cannon and went to talk to the nutcase.

  ***
/>   The man coming his way had the stink of an official. Dom knew the type well; Estates –them as had managed to stay open and profitable enough to attract the interest of the slightly more stable wardogs or even the occasional nearly depleted gearhead- generally employed regular menfolk from their population to act as a sort of general peacekeeper, and them as were minded towards that sort of work were all of a very particular type.

  Self-important, swaggering cocks, to a one. Puffed up with the power of looking after a gaggle of Arcadians to old and slow and out of touch to realize –or unable to admit- that their world were a decaying mess, driven into the ground by their luvverly mad monarch. But them in the Estates, they did grip so tightly to their power, e'en when a Bolt Neck were busy pullin' people apart by the seams.

  Made sense that each of these levels might have summat like those goofy buffoons, hey, as each section of Stack 17 were so huge they rivaled the entire population of Arcade City from one stretch t‘other.

  Though, Dom reflected as he caught sight of the weaponry these lawmen possessed, considerably better armed and –from splashes of blood here and there on the embankment leading up to the tremendous metal contraption- more than willing to use them in defense of their position.

  Still and all, the ex-Gearman plastered a calm smile on his face, one he’d used more than once to get them idiots in them Estates down from whatever particular frenzy they’d gotten themselves worked up over and awaited the older man in the bright blue suit with shiny buttons to get closer still.

  Wouldn’t do to start bein’ a distraction too soon, hey?

  “Well met, Master Bluecoat.” Dom chimed cheerily as the man got within a few feet. “And how are you this fine day?”

  “Nothing fine about it.” Sherriff Tongbok grumped as he took the other man in; it was an instant decision on Slar’s part that while their man might not be in the book, so to speak, he was definitely someone worth keeping an eye on. No one walked through the streets on a day like today without getting someone’s blood on their hands and the blonde haired, blue-eyed stranger before him now looked like a man far too comfortable with the notion to be anything less than a direct threat.

  Just what sort of threat remained to be seen. Barret and the others had scopes and sights on the cluster of men up the way, and they were definitely in the system; they had themselves Vess Vasseler, Zorno Zagreb, Mamie Hulhousen, Tom ‘Grumpy’ Zhenzhen, Ketch Kilter and a dozen or so other low-level players from their very own backyard. Not the worst of the worst, mind, but there were enough bad eggs in the group to kick up a nasty stench all the same.

  Proof that they were moving down, because the big five names on his brand new list weren’t from 43-A, but 41-C. Making this little visit some sort of delaying tactic, though what kind had Slar confused.

  “What can I do for you?” Sherriff Tongbok asked, brutally aware of how tired he was.

  Dom rolled his shoulders, amused at the sly and indiscreet way the other man tried to position himself in preparation for any fight that might come when in fact, even were he not full of Nickels’ combat tactics, the maneuvering was plain as day. Gearheads and wardogs did the same, and while they might be e’en less circumspect about it than some jumped up official man, a few thousand encounters burned the very specific gestures into memory.

  “It’s like this, squire.” Dom jerked a thumb back the way he’d come. “Me and my boys are interested in vacatin’ this partic’lar level of this manmade shithole in favor of one of the others down below, hey, and we is especially interested in avoiding the few stairwells as do the job, right? Too cramped and murderous for our liking, don’t you see?”

  Slar worked his mouth for a few seconds before responding. When he did, it was laced with incredulity. “You boys took the stairs?”

  And made it out alive went without saying.

  “Oh aye, aye, we did.” Dom ran a thumbnail across his jawline. “It were considerable difficult. Are you aware that you’ve got completely and utterly mennal vermin living in those places? I is got to say, squire, I is seen a lot and done a fair bit in me own time as well, but them lads in the stairs are … were, actually … complete loons. All painted up, filed sharp teef, the whole nine yards, whole corrydor stinkin' like fresh barbecue … They were tough customers, weren’t they just?”

  Slar found himself wishing he could stand here all day and talk to the unnamed man about the insanely impressive accomplishment of taking the stairs from any of the main levels in the Stack and walking out the other end. The Stairdweller Gang –a multi-level phenomenon that’d cropped up in some kind of absolutely bizarre recognition of the previous Stack disaster that’d claimed the lives of millions and millions of citizens- was a growing problem for the entirety of 17. Because of the cramped conditions and the sheer tenacity of each incarnation of the gang, they’d all been waiting for official weaponry delivered from Trinity Itself to root them all out at the same time.

  Sherriff Tongbok shook his head and refocused on the matter at hand. The blonde man was clearly insane simply for attempting the stairs, and was assuredly a master at violence because he stood in front of him, asking permission to use the elevator. “So, Mister…”

  “Dom.” The ex-Gearman announced with a flush of embarrassment. “Where is me manners, squire? The name’s Dominic Breton, late of Arcadia.”

  “Sherriff Slar Tongbok. Never heard of Arcadia.” Slar resumed, keeping a leery eye on where the man’s hands and feet were. He wasn’t carrying any weapons, meaning he himself was the weapon. “Now, as I was saying, by your own admission, you used the stairs to move down one or more levels until you reached here. The presumption is, then, that by coming to speak to me here, right now, you look to move down again. By this elevator. Which is heavily guarded.”

  Dom scratched absentmindedly at an earlobe. Cor he could use a nice shower, hey? And maybe some biscuits from one of the Nanny’s. Very doubtful ‘e’d get the one and the other, well, it were probably best they were all dead and dustlike, hey? “Very nice summation o’ events, squire Tongbok. You is do your job wiv perfection. Under normal circumstances, re: this place not being destined to die a long, slow and particularly painful death, I can see you is keep all the normal people quite ‘appy and ‘ealthy. But aye, that is indeed the long and short of it.”

  The two men stood there in awkward silence for a time, each man staring at the other.

  It was Dom who broke the silence. “So how about it then, hey?” He mimed walking into the elevator with two fingers walking and then made a sound meant to imply descent. He sold the pantomime with a wink and a thumb’s up.

  It was Slar’s turn to be confused. “You’re serious.”

  “Like the rotting plague, squire. Like King’s Own rage. Like a Nanny’s promise to plant your head in her garden.” Dom’s ears rang with a shrill Nanny’s promises of being potted. “My boys is tired, see. Comin’ down them stairs took a bit out of ‘em, understand? You is got a lot of boys and a lot of weapons and all, and we is not really in the mood for this kind of fight right now, so I thought it might be well simple to just ask.”

  “Why do you think we’re guarding this area?” Sherriff Tongbok demanded. When Dom showed no signs of answering, the lawman did so. “Because of the other levels down below. Look, I get that you and your boys are tough. That’s obvious, and the others in your gang are known to us. They have records stretching back years, decades in some cases. You’ve got some very tough boys up there. The thing you need to understand, Dominic Breton lately of Arcadia that I’ve never heard of before, is that the further down you go, the worse it gets. We’re incredibly lucky to be as safe as we are, when you take into consideration how close we are to the bottom. We’re guarding this area to make sure the people down below don’t come up in search of food, power, weapons. If we ‘let’ you down, that’s … that’ll guarantee people come back up.”

  "Hate to say it, mate, but that really hain't my problem." Dom sighed inwardly. "Look, Sherriff, be rea
sonable. My boys is tired, they is disillusioned about the world right now, hey? Them stairdwellers were right tough cunts. Seen some o' the newer lads get chomped on, didn't they? Cannybalism. Narsty business, innit? They thought they were 'ard and all that, but the truth is, they in't. Not yet. They hain't where I need 'em to be and quite frankly, I'm not nearly certain enough they ever will be. I is bein' well reasonable. I is doin' fings this way as I were just kind of a prat to one of the boys. Wot if I said please in real nice tone?"

  Sherriff Tongbok stepped back and angled himself off to one side, pointing with a finger at Deputy Barret aboard his powerful recoilless rifle. "This is Deputy Barret. He is sitting on a …"

  Dom whistled. "A Frenetic Excelsior Mounted Recoilless Rifle Deployment. IndoRussian-made. Mass produced by Voss_Uderhell for over fifty years before being replaced by BishopCo's more accurate Deep 6 Hammercannon. Oh, in't she a luvverly piece o' pewpew!”

  The words tripped from Dom's lips with all the air of practice and intimate knowledge. Dom weren't one to question where the info were coming from as he reckoned -correctly- that it were coming from the same place inside his noggin as knew how to beat the living crap out of his foes in ways he'd definitely not known on the Inside.

  Garth N'Chalez. Guilty of regicide and mastermind behind the destruction of Arcade City. He'd get his, once Book was back in it's proper owner's hands, both for causing the death of King and Country and for poisonin' a lad's brain wi' unwanted knowledge.

  "The interesting fing," Dom said brightly as he prepared himself for battle, "about the Excelsior class recoilless rifle is that it's targeting systems can take up to a full second to recalibrate, especially in ranges of less than thirty meters, which is why the Hammercannon overtook it so swiftly, hey?"

  Tongbok tsked at Dom's cockiness. "You may know your weapons, sir, and you might even be right about the targeting issues with our cannon here, but there is one thing we know about you."