Even though it was still technically "indoors," the open air along the Strip was a pleasant relief for the mock Legionnaires after days of close confinement in the casino showroom. Because of the size of the Fat Chance, it was a several-minute stroll to reach the alley-a service access for the loading docks, really-and they took advantage of it, moving at an unhurried pace as they drank in the sights and sounds of Lorelei.
"You know, this place is really something," Doc commented as he shifted his gaze from the soaring light shows to watch the stream of people walking along the Strip. "I can't remember how long it's been since I've been outside. I guess working backstage, it's easy to forget just where the stage is located."
"Take away all the lights and glitz, and what you have left is more lights and glitz," Tiffany agreed, then frowned. "Say, speaking of being outside, didn't the captain say something about our jurisdiction only being inside the complex?"
The stuntman thought for a few moments.
"You know, you may be right," he said finally. "It seems to me there was something in one of those briefings. There were so many of them, though, I can't recall for sure. Oh well, we've come this far, we might as well take a look before we head back."
The light dimmed radically a bare dozen steps into the alley. The casino light shows were designed to impress and lure the tourists on the Strip, not the hired help, and there was little point in wasting wattage on areas traveled only by residents and employees. Walking down the alley was like entering another world, a land filled with shadows and blind angles giving it such an air of gloom and menace that it was hard to realize there were lights and teeming humanity a stone's throw away.
"I don't see anybody," Tiffany said nervously, peering into the almost impenetrable shadows that lined the access.
"Maybe he woke up and moved on," Doc said. "We'll just check a little further, then-uh-oh."
"What is it, Doc?"
"Just keep walking, Tiffany. Don't look back."
Too startled to think clearly, the actress immediately shot a look behind them toward the mouth of the alley.
There were three men, faceless in the gloom but unmistakably heavyset, following the mock Legionnaires. When they saw Tiffany had spotted them, they quickened their pace as if to close the gap separating them from the pair.
"Just keep moving, Tiff."
"Shouldn't we call for help?"
"It may be nothing," the stuntman said, though his tone said he didn't believe it himself. "If it is, though, I don't think they'd give us time to use our wrist radios. No, I figure our best bet is to try to make it to the loading dock, then-shit!"
A lone figure appeared ahead, blocking their path ... a figure that was noticeably larger than any of the three following them. It was as if the man had materialized out of the shadows, though he stood so motionlessly that he might have been there all along and simply escaped their attention.
"Okay, listen close, Tiff. We don't have time to argue," Doc murmured. "The odds ahead of us are still better than what's behind us. I'm going to brace this character, and you're going to keep going. Got that? Don't stop, don't look back until you get to the loading dock. Once you're inside, get on the radio and tell them where I am and what's going on-but only after you're inside."
"But ..."
"Just do it!" the stuntman hissed, then started angling away from her.
"Hold it right there, fellah!" he called to the figure ahead, who was now moving toward them in a curious, floating stride. "I said hold it!"
The figure kept coming, and Doc reached for his tranquilizer pistol ... far, far too late.
The stuntman's work had given him experience in fight scenes and falls that looked quite impressive in the holos, but in actuality were planned and choreographed to minimize the risk of serious injury. The few real fights he had been in were of the barroom variety, and even those were far behind him, since he had become much more of a homebody after his marriage. Nothing in his past, however, had prepared him to deal with, or even recognize the speed and agility of a professional athlete ... even a retired one.
His hand barely touched the grip of his tranquilizer pistol when the oncoming figure accelerated with bewildering speed. Unable to even sidestep, Doc felt the air rush out of his lungs as the man slammed a massive shoulder into his midsection, then he was lifted and carried backward as the monster continued to drive forward, paying no more attention to the stuntman's weight than a bull would give notice to a towel dropped across its horns. Something smashed into Doc's back, and he thankfully lost consciousness.
Tiffany watched in horror, her orders to run forgotten, as the attacker stepped back from the wall, still carrying Doc's now-limp body then flung it to the ground. Breathing heavily in what could only be described as animal growls, the man stared at her fallen companion for a moment, then kicked the still form savagely in the side.
That broke her trance.
Snatching her own tranquilizer pistol from its holster, the actress fired at the hulking menace.
There was a soft pfutt of compressed air when she pulled the trigger, but aside from that there was no indication that she had done anything at all.
She fired again ... and again ...
No effect.
In frustration, she hurled the weapon away and launched herself at the man's back.
He turned at the sound of her approach, then backhanded her lazily out of the air like a troublesome insect.
Tiffany hit the ground in a boneless heap and lay still.
"Big bad soldier boys, huh?" one of the men who had been trailing the twosome said, stepping out of the shadows where he had been waiting. "They aren't so tough."
Still coming down from the adrenaline high of battle, Stilman only grunted in response.
"Hey! This babe's a real looker," one of the other men called, turning Tiffany over with his foot. "Guess we're going to get a little pleasure with our business."
Stilman's head came up with a snap.
"None of that," he said sharply. "We mess 'em up a bit to remind them they're playing out of their league, but that's all."
"I thought Max said we could take the gloves off," the man said sullenly.
In reality, Stilman wasn't even sure that Max would approve of what they were doing. He had put this ambush together on the strength of her not giving him his usual order to "lay off the rough stuff." Taking a couple of the security guards out of action should be okay, but it was certainly a welcome change for the boys not to have to keep their hands in their pockets during a brawl. Still, Max was a woman, and Stilman was almost certain that she'd get upset if the crew got too frisky with the female Legionnaire.
"Never mind what Max says," he snapped. "I'm telling you to keep it impersonal. We're sending these guys a message to back off, and I don't want to confuse the issue with anything else. We're going to mess them up period! Got that?"
"Yeah. Sure."
Turning back to his original victim, Stilman raised his foot and brought his heel down sharply on the fallen man's leg.
The sound of the bone breaking echoed briefly off the alley walls.
"Do something to her face," he called back over his shoulder. "Women are sensitive about stuff like that."
"Beeker here."
"Yo, Beeker! It's me ... Chocolate Harry."
Leaning against the bar's back wall next to the public pay phone, Harry grinned as if the butler were standing in front of him instead of on the other end of the line.
"Hello, C.H. Sorry, but Captain Jester isn't in at the moment. If you'll just hold on, I'll have Mother patch you through to him."
"Whoa! Hold on there, hoss! I was callin' for you, not the cap'n."