Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny by Simon R. Green Read Free Book Online

military men, and we ... were so much more. They broke into a trot as they spotted the Fatemobile, hefting their truncheons eagerly.
    I just knew we weren’t going to get along.
    The three of us stepped out of the car and stood together, studying the advancing bully-boys. They all had that look... of men who’d been thrown out of the SAS for excessive brutality ; of men who didn’t know the meaning of the word fear, or self-restraint ; of men who would get the job done whatever it took. Idiots with muscle, basically. Training’s all very fab and groovy, but it only works in the sane, everyday world. In the Nightside, we depend more on violent improvisation and downright nasty weirdness.
    Someone in the front rank spotted me, and I saw a ripple pass through the ranks as my name worked its way back. They all swapped their truncheons to their left hands, and drew their guns with their right. Heavy, long-barrelled pistols, loaded with dum-dums if they had any sense. I smiled, a little. Walker must have told them about me, but they clearly hadn’t listened. So, time for my party trick. I raised my hands, called on an old well-rehearsed magic, and took all the bullets out of their guns. The bullets fell in streams from my upraised hands, to jump and clatter on the ground at my feet. As tricks go, I couldn’t help feeling it was getting just a bit predictable, but I think people have come to expect it and would be disappointed if I didn’t use it at some point. Sometimes I’m a victim of my own reputation.
    The shock-and-awe troopers could tell the guns in their hands were empty by the sudden change in weight, and they holstered them quickly. Without slowing their advance, they transferred their truncheons back to their right hands. A good move. You can’t take bullets out of a stick. I looked behind me, casually, in case there was an obvious exit route, but the street was blocked off by a crowd of fascinated onlookers, taking photos and placing bets. One guy had even taken advantage of the crowd to set up a fast-food stall, selling wriggling things on sticks.
    Ms. Fate finished fastening her midnight blue cloak about her shoulders. It suited her. The cape made her look more like an experienced crime-fighter and less like a pervert in a fetish suit. The heavy leather cape swirled about her as she drew a handful of razor-sharp silver shuriken out of her belt. In that moment, she looked every inch the real thing; because she was.
    “We could drive off,” I said. “Thus avoiding unnecessary blood and suffering. Just putting it forward as a possibility...”
    “Don’t be silly,” said Ms. Fate, making fists inside her gauntlets so that the leather creaked loudly. The knuckles were reinforced with steel caps. “I have my reputation to consider.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “Don’t know what came over me. Don’t suppose you’ve got any battle armour built into that costume?”
    “Of course not. It slows me down when I’m fighting. You really mustn’t worry about me, John. It’s sweet, but just a touch patronising. Worry about those poor bastards.”
    Her right hand whipped forward, with a practised snap of the wrist, and a silver shuriken flashed through the air to bury itself in the nearest trooper’s left tit. It punched right through his body armour and buried itself deep in the pectoral muscle. Blood spurted on the air as the force of the blow slammed him back onto his arse. Well trained, though, he didn’t make a sound as his fellow troopers trampled right over him in their eagerness to get to us.
    “Some people would take a hint,” said Ms. Fate. “But I can see we’re going to have to do this the hard way. Up close and personal.”
    “Best way,” said Lord Screech.
    I looked at him, and couldn’t keep from raising an eye brow. “Are you seriously proposing to involve yourself in a common brawl? I didn’t think your kind lowered themselves to simple fisticuffs and putting the boot in.”
    “We