Serial Saturday: Nightmare Engine of Doom Part 14 – Enzo Revealed
Luckily, I’d used the distraction of the Automated Armsman’s final attack to move backward a few steps, and as Xavier charged I dropped onto the ladder, catching myself halfway down and half-falling to the platform. As Xavier reached the ladder above me I wrenched open the compartment door and lunged inside.
I found myself in a baggage compartment, filled with shelves and suitcases, and I was casting about desperately for something to either block the door or use as a weapon for Xavier’s imminent arrival when movement at the other end of the compartment caught my eye. I turned, half-expecting some new threat, and saw Enzo staring at me.
He was hunched over several open suitcases, with clothing strewn about at his feet. “What the devil are you doing here?” he asked. It seemed as though I could have asked him the same question, considering he looked to be elbow-deep in a pile of lady’s undergarments, but I had more important concerns than discussing some new perversion of Enzo’s.
I rushed toward him, eliciting a squawk and causing him to begin to frantically stuff frilly bits of clothing back into a suitcase. “Xavier!” I hissed as I ran toward him. “Jean-Marc Xavier!”
“How’s that?” Enzo asked as he leaned on a suitcase to close it.
The door burst open, and Xavier stood framed in the doorway, brandishing his sword.
“Oh, Jean-Marc Xavier,” Enzo said. “You’ve got to learn to enunciate.”
“Enzo!” Xavier exclaimed. “So we meet again. We had heard you had died in an explosion, but I see that was too good to be true. Now I will have my revenge for Stockholm.”
I was close enough now to elbow Enzo, causing him to look up with an exasperated expression.
“Yes yes,” he snapped. “You are bloody Jack Skamerflack reborn. Well played and la-de-dah. Your cunning plan has put us right where we need to be.”
“Well, your death will be at the point of a sword rather than an explosion, my friend, but you will be just as dead either way,” Xavier said, and began to advance.
“Ha!” I said. “You’ve overplayed your hand now, Jean-Marc. Shoot him, Enzo.”
“You shoot him,” Enzo replied petulantly.
“I dropped my gun,” I explained. “In an…incident.”
“Well, I didn’t bring mine,” Enzo snarled. “I wasn’t planning on needing one here.” He waved his hands to take in the scene, causing something lacy caught on his cufflink to slap me in the face.
“You’re just wandering about unarmed?” I asked, aghast. “In your occupation?”
“You folks have a terrible time keeping track of your weaponry,” Xavier said in a conversational tone as he came nearer. He was in no particular hurry, and a glance behind me showed that the exit behind us was blocked with a pile of trunks, presumably ones that Enzo had shoved there in an attempt to find women’s suitcases.
“We may have difficulty with our weaponry, but at least we don’t have truck with the black arts,” I said defiantly.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why they saddled me with him, Xavier,” he said, “but I warn you, not one step closer. You think Stockholm was bad, I’ll show you a world of pain that will make that seem like a vacation.”
Xavier chortled, and continued forward, revealing the emptiness of Enzo’s threat. Short as he was, Enzo was no match for the reach of Xavier’s sword, not without the trademark skullduggery or backstabbery that would allow him the element of surprise. I cast about again for some sort of weapon, something I could throw at the approaching assassin, and finally saw one. My fear and adrenaline luckily gave me the strength of two men, which was enough to allow me to seize Enzo by his belt and collar and hurl him at Xavier.
Copyright © 2012 SM Williams