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

  In the brutal light, she were quite pretty, hey? It were going to be a pity.

  The ex-Gearman grinned from ear to ear, a wicked-seeming smile that screamed of danger and darkness for all present.

  Relen, watching Dom most carefully through augmented lenses, suddenly cursed and lunged for Stazyak’s weapon, but it was too late. The slug was whistling through the air…

  Dom suddenly let the tension that’d been building up in the left arm tentacle grab hold and he was pulled quite ferociously upwards.

  The action played havoc with both his legs –in fact, were like they were about to be pulled right out of their sockets but whatever was giving him strength seemed obliged to keep his limbs right where they were- but as he rocketed upwards, the bullet smashed through the left leg’s enclosure, exploding the metal casing into so many metal splinters. More loose bits and pieces clattered to the ground.

  “Well, there’s a thing.” Dom grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks, love, couldn’t have done a better job of it myself.”

  Down below, Stazyak hung her head. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Nothing to it.” Relen dismissed her regret with the flick of a hand. “Didn’t think of it myself until it was too late. Did anyone bring anything … special with them? “

  Officer Relen listened to the muttering, hopes sinking. Not one of them had had any time to stop by their lockups to grab anything they might’ve wanted, which put them at a severe disadvantage.

  Their lad, once again working on the right leg clamp like a fiendish demon, was going to break free.

  “What do we do, sir?” This came from somewhere in the crowd.

  “Well.” Relen pursed his lips. They couldn’t just kill him outright. The blonde-haired bastard had been right on the money about that. Voss_Uderhell would shit bricks sideways at the loss, especially since they'd already spent a small fortune on getting, then properly securing, the man.

  Well, technically speaking, they could kill him, and quite easily. They just wouldn't get away with it for too long; there were too many of them, and sooner or later one of them would crack under the pressure of interrogation.

  Relen itched to give that kill order right there on the spot, especially since the right leg enclosure was now officially dented and buckled like mad.

  From the tortured screams the metal was making, it wouldn't be long now.

  “Right. Everyone. Surround our man. Weapons drawn. The moment he hits the ground, do what you need to to subdue him. He’s fast as hell and mean too, so don’t be shy. Take his arms and legs if you can, with preference for those legs of his. If he can’t stand, he can’t run, he can’t fight. For God’s sake, don’t shoot your team. Now. Go!”

  Dom howled in satisfaction as the right maw finally broke loose, raining junk down on the soldiers arraying themselves in a circle around him. Tension removed, he launched upward into the air, born aloft like a toy boat on the water, lone shoulder aching fiercely.

  Their faces were set and grim, warriors before the battle.

  Not too long ago, Dom knew he'd had a similar cast to his own handsome mug. Most recent had been during the Siege of Ickford, and he'd been just as raw and angry as them down below right that moment. It were a familiar look right enough, it were just that he'd never been on the receiving end 'ere now.

  He chuckled. An age had passed since then.

  Now? Now he understood a little clearer why them mad old gearheads or Bolt Necks or even the occasional Shambler had reacted to him and his kind, didn’t he just? A little commiseration now, hey? A little … awakening, deep inside his heart.

  He weren’t an animal, he weren’t a monster. He were Dominic Breton, an Arcadian.

  And he were being held against his will!

  The moment he stopped moving Dominic started working on the last trap holding him prisoner, though with a bit of a twist; he allowed a bit of sway to play into his efforts. Not much, not much at all, just enough to have him swinging like a pendulum.

  He could feel the soldiers down below, switching the focus of their weapons here and there, left and right, back and forth, could almost hear their panicky whispers. Guns ticking back and forth, tick tock, tick tock.

  They wouldn't be allowed to go boom.

  They knew all right. Yes they did. They knew what he were lookin' to …

  The final piece tore apart just as he were at the furthest point of his arc.

  He tumbled through the air, as acrobatic as anything he’d ever done, a wild grin on his mad face.

  The air lit up with the gunfire, but it were already too late; he slammed feet first into the nearest soldier with his full body weight. A satisfying crunch of bone through the young man’s armored chest plate shivered all the way up Dom's legs, sending an obscene rush of excitement through the ex-Gearman's heart.

  Without pausing, without thinking, Dom grabbed hold of the gasping soldier by that dented plate as they tumbled forward to the ground, picked him up and chucked him at the soldiers to his left. The three of them fell to the ground with a bone-shaking thump, out of the game for now. Dom turned to confront the rest of his jailers.

  A bullet took him high in the shoulder, driving him into a crouched position. Panting breathlessly from the exertion of breaking loose and from the pain, Dom stared into the eyes of the soldiers as they advanced on him, a loose grin on his lips.

  “Come on, boys.” Dom wheezed, playing the part a bit, eyes tracking their focus. They were, to a one, making eye contact with him, which gave him all the freedom he needed for one of his hands to close more solidly around a chunk of metal by his foot. “Can’t blame a lad for trying, can you? Let’s talk about this like adults, hey?”

  The chunk of metal was cold in his hands. The sphere of light was behind him, high over one shoulder. He wouldn’t be able to throw the missile with all his might, not at such an odd angle, but it’d work well enough, he reckoned.

  Officer Relen shouldered his way through the crowd, augment-lenses tracking everything about Dom. Which wasn't much, which was even more disconcerting now they were on a combat footing with the Arcadian. “Be a good boy, Dom, and just rest easy with us until we get the lights on, shall we?”

  “Of course, squire, of course.” Dom dipped his head in agreement, counting silently in his head.

  Relen didn't like this obsequiousness. Not at all. It sat in his craw like undercooked meat.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  The handmade missile sped through the air, unerringly towards the light globe. Relen flinched automatically, sidearm in his hand and firing after the missile, but it was too late; the glinting metal projectile sliced through the light-ball quick as a wink.

  And that was that. A few soldiers in the back squawked in alarm but it was too late. The globe burst at the seams, spewing blobs of light everywhere for a moment and then … the room was drenched in darkness.

  Dom grinned the darkest grin he owned, but it were for his own benefit; the lads and lassies were still trying to get their gear ready for this new playing field, and were –from the sounds o’ things- operatin’ from the viewpoint that he were in the dark along with ‘em.

  Welladay, it did seem that them as worked for Voss_Uderhell were almost always wrong, hey?

  This close up, those faded white smudges that were his enemies were really quite easy to see, weren’t they just?

  He went to work.

  ***

  Ariel Bishop sat there in the almost utter darkness, staring across the table at Agnethea, who was busy wiping her lips rather daintily for a woman who had an even dozen heavy recoilless rifles pointed at her head; the harsh beams of light lancing out of each rifle threatened to turn the already pale woman’s skin translucent.

  “Come now, is this really necessary?” Agnethea demanded politely, looking at the deadly weapons aimed at her. “I’ve been nothing but a gracious prisoner this entire time.”

  :backup generators unavailable. Power cannot be restored:<
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  “There.” Ariel pointed at the slight quirking at the corners of Agnethea’s lips. “That. What is that? You seem to know something I don’t. All of these conversations we’ve shared over the last few days have been littered with these minute gestures that seem to imply you’re aware of something. What is it?”

  Agnethea dropped the napkin she’d been dabbing her lips with on the table. A few of the guards reacted poorly by moving in closer still, almost putting the tips of their rifles at the sides of her head.

  “I am afraid I haven’t the vaguest idea what you mean, milady. I feel as though you must be misunderstanding my facial expressions. I’ve always and ever been thus.”

  In her mind’s eye, the wavering points of light that’d been just there since she’d opened her literal eyes to gaze upon the strange new world were now solid beams, arcing into the figurative heavens of her conscious mind.

  The one in the center, representing Book, shone like one of the stars that littered the night sky outside the windows of her sleeping quarters. From inside her mind, it seemed to Agnethea that it were growing brighter by the tick.

  Most curious.

  Agnethea eyed Ariel Bishop critically, wondering in all truth what she should do; the most powerful woman in the Universe was sat across from her, and minus the frantic guards and their quiet whispering amongst themselves and their repeated, shouted cautions that she remain right as she was, things weren’t terribly bad in this place often referred to simply as ‘BishopCo’.

  Were she to divulge truths behind the mysteries of Dominic Breton, Chevril Pointillier, the horrid, awful thing that Mirabelle had become –what a terror, a nightmare, an awful, fiendish thing!- and of course, the heart-racing majesty that was a fully functional Book, Agnethea had no doubt in her mind that the course of her life would be whatever she chose to set it; even if Ariel Bishop chose to do nothing by way of recompense for information gained –there were, after all, hints and suggestions woven sweetly through their conversations that they were all merely waiting for something to arrive that would give the Bishop woman’s scientists the means necessary to plumb her unbreakable body for truths and answers- it felt to Agnethea that the whispering thing hidden in the broad and overly complicated table between them would give her whatever she asked for, so long as those answers were given.

  But Book!

  It was alive, and drinking down all the energy it could to rise like a fabled phoenix! The trials and tribulations she’d endured to retrieve the damnable thing –not to mention the gnawing jealousy she’d rather artfully hidden from Master N’Chalez, thank you very much- still haunted her.

  Agnethea shut her eyes for a moment, ignoring Ariel’s pensive gaze -and irate soldiers' behavior- as she tried to burrow into her brain. Fighting for her life in that broad underground Shaggy Man warren, climbing desperately through all those tunnels and holes with bastard monsters on her heels … no.

  If Book were truly waking, and if the other three were on their way to it –as she instinctively knew they would be, because why would they not be?- then she, Agnethea deRois, would do the same.

  There was really no other choice in the matter, was there?

  Not when a lout, a zombie and … well, and an entirely honorable and trustworthy bloke were already on the loose and en route.

  No sire. Not now, not never.

  Agnethea opened her eyes and squinted against the harsh light coming from the weapons. She ached to bat them away, but there were still a few more minutes of politeness in her. “Tell me truthfully, Ariel. If I fail to provide you with information you find more valuable than the rich history of a woman who has walked the earth ‘neath The Dome for eleven thousand years, what would you do? From what I’ve seen of this world so far, it seems to me that –as under The Dome- when information isn’t given willingly, it is taken by force, and while you and I have playacted here at civility and gentility, there is very little patience left in you. Isn’t that right?”

  :do nothing to harm the woman. She is important. Escape if you must, flee and hunt the others, track the Book in the heart of this Stack, do whatever you will, but spare Ariel Bishop. It is impossible to imagine that all of you are aware of it’s presence and the location of each other, but corroborating evidence does seem to suggest this impossibility is nevertheless true all the same.:

  Ariel bit back a curse, disguising it with an artful dip of the head. “You are perceptive, Agnethea. I run a business. The most successful business in the Universe, and though I am more inclined to be less savage than those who came before me, the truth of the matter is, I must have concrete, solid results from everything I expend my time on. And while it has been enjoyable sitting here, playacting, you are correct. Your flesh is … amazing. It defies all explanation. You don’t expel waste. None of our most sensitive machinery can detect even the slightest hint that you are alive, thinking, breathing, and these are machines that can locate a spark of life thousands of miles away in the deepest, blackest spots of space.

  Tough though you may be, resilient your flesh may be, I assure you, there is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can go. These weapons, these soldiers, they are for show, as I am sure you decided long ago. The fact that you showed no concern over their presence, and seem … amused at them now speaks worlds about your experience in such matters, but know this: we may not be able to kill you, we may not even be able to cause you lasting harm, but this building and everyone in it is devoted to keeping you here. We have machines and tools capable of trapping you. So please, do us all and yourself a favor. Remain as you are, playing at being a polite woman from a mysterious world, because in the end, no matter how hard you run, how many men you kill, I have more. I have the resources of an entire Universe at my fingertips.”

  Agnethea dipped her head cordially at Ariel’s most honest words, then rose. The guards allowed her to do so, stepping back, then forward once more when the woman was upright and well away from the table. The Golem smirked a tiny bit at the nerves that ran like fire between the cadre of soldiers. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Where do you think you can go? You don’t know the layout of this building.” Ariel also got up and stepped out of the way, silently ordering a few of the men to redeploy around her. She caught a gleam in Agnethea’s eyes. “You can’t be serious. The walls of this room are three feet thick, made from ferrocrete. The windows are … unbreakable. Like yourself. You’ll only knock yourself out.”

  “Did you know,” Agnethea stretched languidly, enjoying the luxurious freedom immensely, “that once, not too long ago, I was imprisoned in the giant head of a murderous Big King? One designed as a trap for a man who is quite arguably the most dangerous man in existence? The King Himself spoke as you speak now, and do you know what he discovered?”

  “What is that?” Ariel feared she knew the answer. “Even if you do make it out, you’ll fall. Forever. I doubt even something like yourself would survive.”

  Agnethea sized up the thick, heavy window just behind Ariel, never forgetting that the men arranged around her were itching to open fire.

  As things stood right now, she knew they wouldn’t; as much as they ached to put her resilience to the ultimate test -which she could tell by the slight tightening of fingers 'pon triggers- they would not do so, and all out of the fear they'd strike the Most Powerful Woman in the Universe.

  That were a title Agnethea wanted for herself, and it were a fact that she'd earn it soon enough.

  Just as she knew they'd do nowt right now, she recognized her 'safety' were an ephemeral thing.

  The moment she made for the window things would change.

  Agnethea frowned a wee bit. Making her bid for freedom would be to provide Ariel and her men with the sort of information she'd worked at keeping from them 'ere she'd woken up, but neither could she simply stand still.

  Book was on the offing. Dom and Chevy and Mirabelle were already free.

  Aye. 'twere the only thing left to do, weren't it just?
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  :do not do this. this is madness. even if you break through the glass, Agnethea, the fall most likely will, and should that somehow prove to be false, the oceans below are … exquisitely dangerous…:

  “It is that if I can escape a prison built for the most dangerous man this Unreal Universe has seen, in a world ordered by a single madman’s whimsy and constructed by King’s Will, then I assert with considerable authority that there is nowt any of you lot can do to hold me. And also, I have fallen from the heavens once before ‘ere now, and it weren’t that awful. Truth, it do seem to me a splish-splash in th' ocean down below would be far more enjoyable than total collision wi' crusty earth, as last time. Crawling free o' the crater had been a trial.”

  Using the metal table ‘tween her and Ariel and her assigned guards, Agnethea launched herself at the window with a speed and fury that surprised everyone –including the whispering AI mind hidden somewhere in the room- considerably.

  :speed approaching a hundred miles an hour. Detecting considerable activity across the skin … assessing … assessing … data unavailable:

  The guards specifically tasked with protecting Ariel dragged their charge to the ground the millisecond they detected movement from their prisoner. Using their own bodies as shields, they ignored the angry shouts and commands to desist as blithely as they could.

  From there?

  From there, the remaining guards opened fire with their heavy recoilless rifles, shredding everything in their line of sight, massive slugs smashing chunks out of the walls but not breaking through; where each round struck Agnethea –in the back, in the head, in her legs, wherever- they were immediately depleted of kinetic energy, whereupon they dropped to the ground, sizzling hot pancaked chunks of metal that promptly melted clean through the plush, lime yellow carpeting, adding burnt hair smell to the already pungent odor of gunfire.

  Agnethea took a few heavy rounds across the shoulders, and while the bullets caused no damage and the force from each round were barely noticeable, she nevertheless found herself pointed in an unfortunate angle in relationship to the window because of 'em, so she used her incredible speed to swiftly reorient herself. The soldiers raked their terrible weapons after her, obliterating a fine Exodite collection and shredding another section of wall.