I armoured up. Molly raised a protective field before her. And Diana just stepped smartly backwards into a handy shadow and disappeared. I knew there had to be a reason why the Regent s agents were called Shadows, I thought as the first bullets found me. All the guns were firing at once, and the combined roar was like the wrath of God. A noise so loud it was actually physically painful, even inside my armour. The bullets issued from the side of the bus like a pirate galley s broadside; thousands of bullets from dozens of guns, like a wall of death. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly from my armour and were swallowed by Molly s shield, and chewed up the brick wall behind us, and, rather surprisingly, just bounced harmlessly off the Plymouth Fury without making a mark.
Don t you shoot at me, you bastards! screamed the sat nav. I m a classic! Shoot at them; I m just the ride! They re the ones you want! Shoot the fleshy ones!
We will have words later, I said to the sat nav.
I glanced quickly behind me. The door to the Establishment Club was firmly closed, and, amazingly, taking no damage at all from the massed fire raking back and forth across it. And the bullet holes in the brickwork were already repairing themselves. Bullets might be a bit of a low-class threat to a setup like the Establishment Club, but it was clear it could look after itself.
Whoever was giving the orders inside the bus soon realised that their armoury of guns wasn t having the hoped-for effect. The assault shut off abruptly, and the bus s engine roared as it sped up again. I ran out into the street and sprinted after the bus, my armour s speed more than a match for its hurried departure. I quickly caught up with the bus and plunged both my golden hands, well past the wrists, into the rear of the vehicle. My golden fingers dug in deep. I took a firm hold and then forced my golden heels into the street. The bus screeched to a halt despite itself, skidding wildly, as my heels dug two deep furrows in the road. I grinned behind my face mask. Good to be a Drood.
I wrestled the bus to a reluctant halt, the whole rear wall bowing out towards me, stretched and distorted by my hold. The driver gunned his engine and the bus shook back and forth as it fought to pull free, black smoke billowing out from the tyres. But I had my hold, and the bus wasn t going anywhere. I pushed my arms farther in and lifted the whole rear of the bus up off the road, so that the rear wheels just spun helplessly in midair.
The tinted windows at the rear of the bus disappeared, replaced by a whole bunch of gun barrels moving quickly to target me at point-blank range. They opened up with everything they had, trying to blast me loose, but I just stood there and took it. Bullets hammered me from head to toe, ricocheting in every direction at once, even back into the bus, and I didn t feel a single impact. Some of the guns fired directly into my face mask, and a lot of good it did them. I didn t even blink. One by one the guns ran out of ammunition, and then they all suddenly withdrew. The tinted back windows reappeared, and the bus driver shut down his engine.
It was very quiet in the street. No gunfire, no straining engine, no squealing tyres; not a single sound. I dropped the rear of the bus back onto the road, and it bounced a few times on its heavy tyres before settling. I wrenched my hands back out of the bus, and they emerged easily amid the shriek of ruptured and tearing metal. Molly came forward to join me, and stood beside me as we looked over the silent double-decker.
What the hell was that all about? said Molly.
I think, I said, that we have just been the victims of the hidden-world equivalent of a drive-by shooting. What the hell did these silly bastards think they were doing? Battles in the hidden world are supposed to stay hidden from the everyday world! You don t squabble in front of the children; everyone knows that!
Look around you, said Molly.
It took me only a moment to see what she meant. There was traffic all around us; cars and taxis, white vans and cycle couriers but not one of them was moving. Time had stopped around us. The drive-by and its intended victims were all caught in a single frozen moment, held between the tick and tock of the world s clock. So the shooting could take place without anyone noticing, until time started up again. The bus would be gone, and all that remained would be the bullet-ridden corpses of the victims. Just another mystery in the busy heart of London. Probably put it down to gangs.
A drive-by shooting, I growled. I hate them. I mean, come on. Is there anything more cowardly than a drive-by? Drive up at speed, spray bullets in every direction, hope you hit the right target among all the innocent bystanders and then run away. I want the creeps behind this, Molly. I want to explain to them the error of their ways. Let s take a look inside the bus.
Let s, said Molly. I feel we should have words with these scumbags.
Harsh words, I said.
We walked along the side of the big red double-decker bus. The windows remained darkly tinted and very firmly closed. Not a sound or a movement from inside. I came to the cab door, well above the ground, reached up with one golden hand, and casually tore out the whole door and threw it aside. The sound of rending metal was very loud in the quiet, followed by an equally loud reverberating clang as the door hit the ground. A massive gun barrel protruded from inside the cab, aimed directly into my face mask. I didn t give the gun s owner time to fire, just grabbed the long barrel and jerked the whole thing right out of his hands. There was a howl of pain and upset from inside the cab, from the gun s owner, who hadn t let go of his gun fast enough.
I looked the gun over. Cheap Kalashnikov knock-off piece of shit. The assassin s gun of choice when he hasn t enough money for anything decent. I broke the thing in two and threw the pieces aside. Cheap guns and a drive-by shooting on a London double-decker didn t really tie in with the sophistication of time control. Devices like that are hard to find, and they never come cheap. I peered into the cab, but there was no one at the wheel. The driver had retreated into the bus s gloomy interior and was hidden among his fellow would-be assassins.
It s not like we ve any shortage of enemies, Molly said behind me. But I can t think of anyone dumb enough to organise such a low-rent attack on us. I say we board the bus and bounce people off the walls until someone feels like telling us what s going on here.
Sounds like a plan to me, I said.
And me, said Diana, stepping elegantly out of a nearby shadow. She didn t look in the least troubled or disturbed by what had just happened. Molly and I both made a point of not jumping even a little bit when she reappeared, just on general principle.
Regent of Shadows, said Molly. Much suddenly becomes clear. I take it you re one of his Special Agents?
Of course, said Diana. One of his first, in fact. We go way back, the Regent and me. You think he d entrust your safety to just anyone? I am rather annoyed at the crudity of the attack, though. I m used to better, quite frankly. Fiendish master plans and complicated death traps; that s more my sort of thing. I say we go inside the bus and kick bottom!
All right! said Molly. I m starting to like you.
So pleased, said Diana.
I hauled myself up into the driver s cab, looked into the gloomy interior and was immediately met with the roar of a heavy electronic cannon, one of those customised jobs that can pump out thousands of explosive fl chettes a second. Being a sporting sort, I braced myself and just stood there and took it. The bullets slammed into me like a solid mass, and the whole front of the bus, behind me, just disintegrated, blown away by the sheer concentrated firepower. My armour wasn t bothered in the least.
The problem with this particular kind of gun is that by its very nature it goes through a hell of a lot of bullets really quickly. The gun fell silent abruptly, and someone said, Oh, shit. I stepped quickly forward into the bus s interior, grabbed hold of the massive cannon, and ripped it right off its floor mounting. I then crumpled the heavy gun in my hands like it was made of paper, wadded it into a ball and let the metal mass drop to the floor with a loud and disquieting thud.
The man who d been firing the cannon retreated quickly towards the rear of the bus, making choked noises of d
istress. All the bus seats were full, with row after row of hard-faced men in flak jackets, carrying all kinds of guns. They started to aim them at me and then had a rush of common sense to their heads and changed their minds. Seeing Drood armour up close will do that to you. Which is, of course, the point.
The hard-faced fighting men lowered their guns to the floor and then put their hands as high in the air as they could get them. Which was only sensible, if a bit disappointing. It isn t nearly as much fun to beat the crap out of people who aren t fighting back. It wouldn t necessarily stop me, though. I was still pretty annoyed about the whole driveby thing. And then a voice at the very rear of the bus spoke up, saying:
Take him down or you don t get paid!
Just when everything was going so well There s always one. There was just the briefest of pauses while the gunmen looked at one another, and then they all reached inside their flak jackets and produced any number of magic amulets, glowing handguns, pointing bones and enchanted brass knuckles. The gunmen all surged forward at once, clearly hoping to achieve close up what they hadn t managed at a distance: bringing me down through sheer weight of numbers. I could have told them that was never going to work.
They punched and kicked at me, hitting me with every weapon they had, shouting fierce war cries to encourage themselves and one another, falling on me from every side at once and none of them could touch me. Their various toys just broke and shattered against my armour, and in the limited space of the bus s aisle they were more a threat to each other than they were to me.
I finally lost my patience and waded into them, slapping weapons out of their hands and striking the gunmen down with swift, efficient punches. I knocked them down and trampled them, bounced them off walls, picked them up and slammed them against the low ceiling. I was careful to control my armour s strength. I wanted living prisoners capable of answering questions. So while they did their very best to kill me, I didn t kill a single one of them.
Because I, not my armour, was in control.
Molly was quickly there with me, darting back and forth, smiling happily as she threw shaped curses that made guns blow up in their owners faces and punching in the odd head here and there, for the good of her soul. She whooped loudly as she ducked wild punches, kicked the legs out from under people and trampled them viciously underfoot. She dispensed much-deserved beatings to the ungodly, and loved every moment of it.
I laughed and fought alongside her, and that seemed to upset the gunmen even more. Especially when Diana joined the fight, darting in and out of the many shadows inside the bus, appearing and disappearing with bewildering speed as she dispensed elegant karate blows and fierce savate kicks and the odd elbow to the back of the neck to a victim who didn t have the sense to hit the floor fast enough. Diana was a graceful, efficient fighter, her tweed skirt swirling about her as she moved with surprising speed for someone her age. And not one of the gunmen was able to point a weapon at her fast enough to save himself.
Eventually, the three of us just ran out of people to hit. We stood together, none of us breathing particularly hard, and looked around us. The inside of the bus was littered with battered and bloodied would-be assassins lying in piles, draped over the seats, gasping for air and staunching bloody mouths and noses and occasionally crying bitter tears. As professional assassins went, this bunch hadn t travelled far. They never stood a chance, and they knew it. Molly and Diana and I looked hopefully around for someone else we could teach the error of their ways, but everyone kept their heads well down and avoided our eyes, hoping not to be noticed.
Well, that was fun, said Diana, adjusting the silk scarf at her throat and brushing herself down. I was hoping I d get the chance to see the two of you in action, and I have to say, you re everything the reports said you were. I m really quite impressed.
Not bad yourself for an old girl, Molly said grudgingly. Can all the Regent s people do what you do, jumping in and out of shadows?
Oh yes, said Diana. The clue was always in the name. Apparently, the Regent acquired this very useful ability from the Hanged Man s Clan, back when he was first on the run from his family. I say acquired; another version of the story says he stole it, and I wouldn t put it past him. The Regent has never had any problem with being practical about matters of morality. When necessary. The shadow thing is very useful in our line of work. Do keep it to yourselves, my dears.
I still want to know who was in charge of all this, I said loudly. There was a certain amount of stirring among the beaten-down gunmen, but no one said anything.
Got to be one of these scumbags, said Molly.
I don t think so, Diana said thoughtfully. Take a look out the windows.
We all leaned over the nearest bodies, which did their best to flinch out of the way, and looked outside. The windows weren t tinted from the inside, and we had a clear view of the street. The cars and other traffic were all exactly where we d left them, not moving at all, fixed in place in their frozen moment held outside of time.
So whoever stopped time is still in here with us, I said. Hiding in plain sight and hoping to go undiscovered. I can t See him anywhere, even through my mask.
Molly looked slowly and carefully about her, and even hardened assassins avoided her gaze. She scowled. I m not Seeing any glamours or illusions, and no dimensional door he could have escaped through. So he s definitely still here in the bus with us, the arrogant little scrote.
Hell with it, I said. I suppose I ll just have to punch a hole in the petrol tank, set light to the whole bus and watch them all fry.
It s the only way to be sure, Molly said solemnly.
Diana looked at us sharply and was about to say something when a new voice spoke up suddenly from among the piled-up assassins.
All right! All right. Don t do anything dramatic! I m right here.
And one of the most battered and bloodied-looking gunmen stood up abruptly. He shook himself briefly, and all his wounds disappeared, his whole shape changing as he became someone else. The hard-faced seasoned gunman was replaced in a moment by a sulky-looking teenage boy of no more than seventeen or eighteen. Wearing distressed jeans and a T-shirt bearing the legend Revenge Is Forever.
It s an Immortal! said Molly. A flesh-dancer! No wonder I couldn t detect his presence!
Diana looked at him thoughtfully. So that s what they look like. I d heard they never aged past their teens, but Eddie, I thought your family killed off all the Immortals when you raided their secret base at Castle Frankenstein.
We got most of them, I said.
Evil, vicious little bastards that they were, said Molly.
But a few did get away, I said. Because they just deserted their own kind and ran, like rats deserting a sinking ship. I walked up to the teenage Immortal, who flinched but didn t back away. So, I said.
I thought the few of you who survived had gone to ground, hiding in squalid little bolt-holes in the armpits of the world. What brought you out of hiding to do something this dumb?
You did, said the Immortal defiantly. Your family s dead and gone, Drood, just like mine! I thought it was finally safe to show my face again, to start up my life again and make the world march to my tune, as it should! And then you turned up, the Last Drood, alone and vulnerable. How could I resist? How could I resist the chance to avenge my murdered family?
One, I said, your family spent centuries exploiting and enslaving Humanity, just because you could, hiding behind your ever-changing faces. You tried to wipe out my family when we tried to stop you. Your family deserved everything it got, and then some. And two, a Drood is never vulnerable.
Why a bus? said Molly. And why this bunch of underachievers?
The Immortal shrugged quickly. Money was limited. I had to go with what I could afford. I took the Time Distorter with me when I left the castle. All of us took something, just grabbing whatever came to hand. There was just enough energy left in the Distorter for one last time seizure. So I put together the best wild bunch I could, and came
looking for you. He glared about him.
I should have chosen more carefully. I ll do better next time.
There isn t going to be a next time, said Molly. I really don t believe in killing in cold blood, but for an Immortal I ll make the effort. Some enemies are just too dangerous and too treacherous to be allowed to live. Don t look at me like that, Eddie. There isn t a cell that can hold a shape-shifter like him, and you know it. And any word of surrender he gave you would be worthless. He ll never stop coming after you.
It s not just me! There are lots of us out there! the Immortal said defiantly. Not just the few Immortals who escaped your massacre; all the people you ever fought, Drood! Everyone whose lives your family has ever interfered with or tried to stamp out! All your enemies, all the ones with good reason to hate you, come home to roost at last! The word is out and we re all coming for you. To wipe out the Last Drood. To take our revenge on you for everything your family did. We ll never stop coming for you!
Unless we send them a message, I said, and something in my voice shut him up.
What kind of message did you have in mind? said Diana.
I was thinking about sticking his severed head on a spike and leaving it somewhere prominent, I said.
Eddie, you can t! said Diana.
Pretty sure I can, I said.
Sounds good to me, said Molly.
Diana stepped forward to look right into my face. Her gaze was cold, her voice flat. It s in your file, Eddie. That you always said you were an agent, not an assassin.
Yes, I said. Even now, after everything that s happened, I still believe that. But sometimes you have to do something bad to prevent something worse. I have to put the fear of Drood into my enemies to keep them off my back while I get my family safely home again. You heard the little shit; they re all out there, watching, waiting for me to show some sign of weakness. They think if they can drag me down, they can put an end to the Droods forever. And they might just be right. I m the last hope my lost family has. If his severed head will hold them off, buy me some time
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