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 distress. 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.