But why them? said Molly. Why set them against us?
Because they still look like children, I said.
Which makes it that much harder to fight them. Question is: Do they work for the club or Crow Lee himself?
What difference does that make? said Molly.
I don t want to bring the whole might of the Establishment Club down on us, I said. Not while I m the Last Drood. I can t afford to let myself be stopped before I can reach my family and bring them home. But, no, it doesn t really matter. Some things are just too vile to be allowed to continue. Some vermin just need putting down.
Wow, Eddie, said Molly. Hard-core.
The Uptown Razor Boys swept suddenly, savagely forward, heading right for us like the pack of wild things they really were. Half a dozen teenage boys who d thrown away their Futures in return for the hideous strength that drove them and the supernaturally bright blades they brandished. They shouted and hooted gleefully, moving in perfect symmetry, six minds with a single thought. Their eyes glittered in the dim lighting as they circled Molly and me, jumping and leaping and addressing us with high, harsh voices, one after another.
Drood. Thought you were dead. Should be dead. Always meddling in the affairs of your betters. Interfering in things that are none of your concern. Heavenly armour versus infernal blades. Good intentions versus Hell on Earth. Going down, Drood. All the way down.
It s not enough that they ve been made over into hellspawn, Molly said steadily. They re still the worst part of boys. Did you notice they only addressed themselves to you, Eddie? Because they re still scared of girls.
Shut up! Shut up! howled the Eton Irregulars, leaping and capering around us, brandishing their razors fiercely.
Nasty! Nasty thing! Cut you up! Eat you up! Wear your insides as scarves!
The more they speak, said Molly, the less scary they seem. Funny, that.
Take them seriously, I said. They ve killed a lot of good people in their time. Probably people who didn t take them seriously enough.
Drood, said the Uptown Razor Boys, speaking together in one voice. Cut you up. Kill you, and your little bitch, too.
Now, that s just rude, I said.
They surged forward, and I went to meet them with a cold rage in my heart. Because they stood between me and the rescue of my family. They swarmed all over me in a living wave, hitting me from every side at once, cutting and slicing at my head and throat with their shimmering razors. But even these supernatural blades just skidded harmlessly off my golden armour in showers of sparks. Moxton had made his mistake well. The boys cried out like wolves as they cut at me again and again, cried out like thwarted children, but for all their speed and fury they couldn t hurt me. I chose my timing carefully and punched one of the Eton Irregulars in the head with my golden fist. His whole head exploded, showering gore and fragments of bone across the nearby wall. The sheer force of the blow threw the headless body several feet down the hallway. The remaining Eton Irregulars cried out in shock and rage, a savage howl from human mouths. They only had one another. They threw themselves at me like feral cats, hitting me with all their Hell-given strength, as though they could force their blades through my armour.
I grabbed another of them and slammed his face into the nearest wall. His whole head collapsed and shattered under the force of the impact, and when I let go, the headless body just slid limply down the wall, leaving a heavy trail of blood and bone behind. More howls and screams from the remaining Uptown Razor Boys, and behind my featureless golden face mask I was smiling a fierce grin of my own. It felt good to be killing things that needed killing.
One of the Eton Irregulars broke away from me and went for Molly. She was waiting for him. She had a small flat box in her hand, with a single button on the top. She pointed it at the Razor Boy, who snarled savagely at her and went for her throat. Molly pressed the button and the boy just blew apart soundlessly. Every single bit of his flesh exploded in a moment, reduced to nothing more than a thick pink mist in the air, spreading slowly and silently before pattering to the floor in tiny pink droplets. The bones of his skeleton were left behind, left standing in perfect shape for a moment, and then they just clattered to the parquet floor in a neat little pile. All the bones picked perfectly clean, without a single fleck of meat left on them.
There was a pause as we all just stood where we were and looked at what had just happened. So, I thought coolly. That s what happens when you point a protein exploder at someone.
The three surviving Eton Irregulars turned and ran, sprinting down the hallway. Molly pointed the small box after them, and hit the button again. Three more soft, almost soundless explosions, and once again a fine pink mist filled the hallway for a long moment, before slowly dispersing. And three more neat little piles of human bones. Molly raised the protein exploder to her lips and blew away imaginary smoke from an imaginary gun barrel.
I think I m getting the hang of this, she said. Bit messy, though.
What did you expect? I said. From something called a protein exploder? It really does do what it says on the tin. I looked at her carefully. Does it bother you? What you just did? I mean, they did look like boys.
Yes, said Molly. They did. But they weren t. Hadn t been anything human for a long time. Nothing left inside them but Hell s business. I could tell.
I armoured down and looked up the hallway ahead of us. Everything seemed calm and quiet and very empty.
Does it bother you? said Molly.
What?
You just crushed the heads of two things that still looked like children, said Molly. You didn t even hesitate. You would have once. Before you put on the rogue armour.
You said it yourself, I said. They were just hellspawn. I could tell.
Except I hadn t even looked. Didn t even occur to me to raise my Sight to study their true aspect. I just killed them because they were an immediate threat and they needed killing. And because it felt good. I listened carefully, but I couldn t hear the voice of the rogue armour, couldn t even feel its presence, peering over my mental shoulder. I had to wonder how much of this new iron in my soul was the influence of wearing the rogue armour and how much was just me, a man grieving over his lost family and slowly losing his mind. Just needing to take out his anger on the world. Was I losing control or losing my mind? I told myself it didn t matter. I would do whatever needed doing for my family. Deal with the problems in front of me. Move on and worry later.
It wasn t like anyone was going to grieve over the loss of the Uptown Razor Boys.
I strode forward, stepping carefully past the piles of bones, leaving Molly to hurry after me.
Is it too much to ask? I said. For someone to design a weapon that cleans up after itself?
It would be nice, said Molly. Not having to be careful where you tread after a fight.
And then we both stopped, as a tall cocky figure came slouching down the hall towards us. He just appeared out of nowhere, smiling easily, in a scruffy combat jacket and grubby jeans. Big and rangy, with the kind of muscle that comes from regular hard living rather than hard workouts in the gym. He had a square head, close-cropped dark hair and a cool, thoughtful gaze. There was an easy built-in menace to his every movement. He swayed to a halt a respectful distance away.
Hello, squire. And lady. I m Bunny Hollis, at your service. Ex-SAS combat sorcerer. No job too big; no killing too small. I got thrown out of the SAS for sadistic excesses, which is ironic, as that s how most of us get in. These days, I m strictly freelance. Cash up front, no questions asked and I ll even make the bodies disappear at no extra charge. He looked meaningfully at the mess in the hall, between him and Molly and me. Got to say, you made a real mess of those kids. Good thing, too. It s animals like that give hardworking professionals like us a bad name. So, you re Eddie Drood. I ve always fancied my chances against a Drood.