London Darkness- Infernal Inventions

by Christopher Stocking

  Wendell looked out the window. His goggles were pulled down over his eyes and the lenses were covered in a thin layer of black grease.

  Ryker stood behind Wendell and looked out the window. He glanced at his left palm, and then noted the position of the descending sun. “Dusk is approaching,” he said. He faced Celia. “Are you ready to go?”

  Celia smiled and lifted her black skirt three inches, revealing the black band around her upper thigh that securely held her lock picking kit in place. “Always,” she answered.

  “Great,” Ryker said. His eyes lingered at the lock picking kit until Celia lowered her skirt. He opened his wall safe and removed his specs. He then put them over his eyes and slid them up so they rested securely near the top of his head. “We’d better get going.”

  Ryker and Celia made their way toward the stairs, but Wendell stepped in front of them. He pulled off his goggles, revealing worried eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “What if you don’t like what you find?”

  Ryker looked at the gnome for a moment. “I guarantee I won’t like what I find,” he answered. “But, I’ll handle it accordingly.”

  “It’s not your job to handle it,” Wendell protested. He grabbed onto the bottom of Ryker’s waistcoat.

  Ryker’s eyes were hard. “Charles made it my job.” He pulled Wendell’s hand away and walked down the stairs.

  Celia knelt in front of Wendell and put a soft hand on his face. She looked at him a moment and then followed Ryker out.

  Wendell stood in silence. He listened as the door swung open and shut, and then stepped away to work on the cane.

  Ryker led Celia out behind his lab into a large walled-in area.

  “What is this?” Celia asked.

  Ryker smiled and swung open the wooden door. “What is that?” she asked, eyes wide. She walked up to a flying machine of sorts. There were two seats padded with red velvet. Between the seats was a large engine full of greasy metal tubes, brass cogs, and steel gears. Four steel poles, about four inches in diameter protruded from the center of the engine. The top of each pole had a long helicopter blade mounted onto it.

  Ryker sat in the left seat and extended a hand to the other, offering it to Celia.

  Celia stared in awe as she slowly approached the machine and sat in the empty seat.

  “I’ve yet to come up with a name for it, but this is my flying contraption,” Ryker said happily. A large grin consumed his face.

  “How does it work?” Celia asked curiously. She looked at all the gears and pipes.

  Ryker pulled out two levers, and yanked on a rip cord. The engine suddenly came to life. The gears turned and the engine rumbled. The blades started spinning slowly, and gradually picked up speed.

  “What’s that smell?” Celia shouted over the noise of the engine. She covered her face with her arm.

  Ryker shrugged. “I’m not really sure yet.”

  Celia’s expression dropped. Before she could do anything, Ryker flipped a switch and the contraption shook, and then lifted off the ground. “Put these on!” he shouted. Ryker opened a steel box attached to the side of his chair and pulled out a pair of goggles. He handed them to Celia—who was reluctant to wear them—and then pulled down his specs.

  When they were hovering above the rooftops, Ryker gently pushed a lever forward. The engine groaned and the contraption shook.

  Celia clutched onto her seat and her body tensed. “We’re going to crash!” she shouted.

  Ryker laughed. “Nonsense!” he answered. He pushed the lever a little more and the contraption sailed forward.

  Celia relaxed a little and looked down at the city. Gas lanterns dimly illuminated the dark streets, a few people were out for evening strolls, and almost every window was illuminated as families sat down to enjoy their dinner.

  “I think the League will hear us coming,” Celia said.

  “Good thing we’re not going to the League,” Ryker answered.

  “What?” Celia questioned. She looked at him, confused.

  “Of course they’ll hear us coming. That’s why we’re just heading to the pub for a drink.”

  Celia nodded once, smiled, and continued to watch the calm city pass below.

  After half an hour of flying they had reached The Tankard, the most popular pub in the city.

  Ryker lowered the flying machine onto the side of the street. Thick black smoke began erupting from a large tube at the back of the engine.

  The patrons outside the pub coughed and shouted over the roar of the loud engine. Ryker frantically turned a handle behind him connected to a fan at the back of the machine. The fan spun and blew the smoke into the air. He then turned off the engine and blew away the last of the smoke.

  Ryker climbed out of the contraption, helped Celia out of her seat, and looked around. The people outside the pub stared and glared at him.

  “Sorry,” Ryker said. He put an apologetic hand in the air and turned to Celia. “The League Headquarters is two blocks down from here.”

  “What about your machine?”

  Ryker looked at the machine, and then at a large, hulking man standing by the pub door. Ryker approached the man who looked at him lazily.

  His left eye was closed halfway, and his top hat was tilted to the side. His face was stuck in a lethargic gaze. “What are you lookin’ at, boy?” the man asked angrily. He clenched his large hands into fists.

  Ryker grabbed his money pouch and tossed it to the man. The large man caught it and stared at it stupidly. “No one touches the machine, got it?” Ryker said.

  The man grasped the bag tightly and nodded, staring at the contraption. He pressed the half-full bag to his chest. “No one touches the machine,” he repeated. He looked at Celia. “Who’s the pretty lady?” he asked with a smile.

  Ryker placed a hand on his revolver. “No one,” he said grimly.

  The large man laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. She’ll fall for me. They always do.”

  “Let’s go, Celia,” Ryker said. He looked back at the large man one last time, and then grabbed Celia’s arm.

  Ryker and Celia walked down the side of the street. When they were out of view, they picked up their pace to a run.

  The League of Inventors Headquarters was a massive building. It was formerly used as a fort, but when the age of steam arrived, it was converted to the headquarters for London’s top inventors. Its high ceilings provided plenty of room for the giant generators.

  Ryker and Celia approached the large steel doors. Ryker activated the X-ray view of his specs. “The lobby is clear,” he said quietly.

  Celia took out her lock picking tool and inserted them into the key hole. With a few twists and flicks of the wrist the door clicked, and Celia pushed it open.

  They entered and moved to the door at the side of the room. “It’s clear,” he said.

  Celia picked the lock on the door and they entered the first lab. The generators dimly illuminated the room, providing just enough light for Celia to see.

  Ryker led Celia to the next door and looked through with his specs. “There’s a mechanical feline in there. It’s scanning the area, but I think it’s using thermal vision, so it won’t be able to see us through the door.”

  “How do we get passed it?” Celia asked.

  “Unlock the door, and stay here.”

  The door clicked unlocked and Ryker opened it just far enough for him to see into the center of the room. The robot feline sat on a table in the center of the lab. Its head spun slowly in a full circle, using its thermal scanner to search for unusually high temperatures. When the scanner approached Ryker, he closed the door and looked through it with his specs.

  The feline’s gaze drifted passed the door and Ryker opened it and slid into the room. With silent steps he climbed onto the table and looked at the back of the mechanical creature. He noticed a panel at the base of the creature’s neck.

  The head turned, drawing closer to Ryker’s direction. Ryker flipped open t
he panel and the creature stood up, it opened its mouth to release a deafening beep, but Ryker reached into the opening and ripped out a handful of small brass cogs and steel gears.

  The mechanical feline’s eyes faded, and then it fell onto its side, twitching.

  Ryker looked back and signaled for Celia to enter. She slid into the room and silently closed the door.

  The next three labs were left unguarded, so they were able to move through them quickly.

  “I can’t believe they would leave this place with so few defenses,” Celia commented.

  “I told you this place was no good,” Ryker answered. “The stairs are already activated.”

  Celia peered down the steps. “Where do they lead?” she asked.

  “To an underground lab. Follow me.”

  They descended the stairs and moved behind them for concealment. They looked into the lab and watched as four humans and four gnomes stood around each of the steel tables. Their white lab coats whipped around them as they scrambled around the tables, grabbing parts and assembling them.

  One table had a stack of Gatling guns at the end. Another had large, round, metal objects resembling globes, but double the size. A third table had propeller blades and wires and sensor parts scattered across it.

  “What is this?” Celia asked curiously. She narrowed her eyes to get a better view of the other end of the lab.

  “Spear,” Ryker said quietly. His eyes were wide as he gazed upon two hovering objects at the end of the lab. They were exact replicas of the sketch on the blueprints he had stolen from Charles.

  The propellers hummed quietly as the machines gently floated up and down. Black smoke erupted from the pressure release pipes and out through a vent in the ceiling that led just outside the back of the headquarters.

  Two men stood in front of the floating machines. One of them stood out significantly more than the others. He wore a dark green lab coat, but it only had a sleeve on the right side. The left sleeve was cut off, revealing a mechanical arm. Cogs and gears turned and spun as he moved it. Every time his arm bent at the elbow, a thin stream of steam sprayed out through a thin pipe at the back of the elbow.

  The right sleeve of the lab coat had cog patches sewn into it from shoulder to wrist, signifying his proficiency with inventing and mechanics.

  The two men held clipboards. They observed the floating machines and scribbled down notes and observations. They then consulted with each other, and continued examining the machines.

  Ryker and Celia stepped out from behind the steps and knelt on either side of the door. They listened intently.

  “It’s a fantastic machine,” the mechanical-armed man said to the inventor next to him. His Irish accent carried across the lab. “They performed so well during Project Spear, I have no doubt they’ll be more than useful to our defense.”

  The other inventor nodded, wiped the grease from his thick glasses, and scribbled on his clipboard.

  The Irishman turned around and ran his mechanical fingers through his short, red-brown hair, and then rubbed his bearded cheek. “Alright, take five everybody,” he said loudly. He deactivated the machines with a remote and watched as they gently floated to the floor.

  The inventors set down their tools and followed the Irishman down a hallway in the back corner of the lab, and the sound of a door closing rang out.

  Ryker and Celia almost stepped through the door, when the records room door at the back of the room swung open. A gnome walked out and slammed the door behind him. He then walked down the hall and through the door.

  “Let’s go,” Ryker whispered. They dashed across the room and Ryker reluctantly touched the door handle to the records room, half-expecting to be launched across the lab again. He closed his eyes as his hand made contact. Nothing. He opened his eyes and turned the handle. The door swung open and they entered.

  Celia closed the door behind them and they stared at ten cabinets that lined the wall. “We’d better hurry,” Ryker said urgently.

  They began opening drawers and rifling through all the files. “I’m not finding it,” Celia said quietly. Her voice was tense.

  Ryker looked at the last cabinet on the right and noticed the bottom drawer was opened slightly. He slid it open and pulled out a thick white folder. Stamped across the front of it read S.P.E.A.R.

  “Got it,” he said a little too loudly. He opened the folder and skimmed through the pages. Several photos fell out onto the floor. Celia picked them up and looked through them.

  “This is terrible,” she said sorrowfully.

  “Very,” Ryker answered lowly. He held up an official League of Inventors document and read it, keeping his voice low. “The Spear Bots have done a sufficient job of eradicating all forms of life in Terial. Total casualties include 247 women, 212 men, 67 male children, and 59 female children. Spear Bots encountered light resistance from police forces, but suffered no casualties. The test was very successful. Spear Bots can now be mass produced and integrated into London’s security forces. Signed, Shamus Lochlain”

  “That’s awful,” Celia said. She handed the photos to Ryker who put them back in the stack of papers, along with the document.

  “Look at this,” he said. He removed a newspaper article from the stack of papers. “The League of Inventors blamed the whole thing on pirates. They’re covering their tracks. There’s a quote here from Shamus saying how sorry he is that such a tragic event occurred. The bastard isn’t sorry at all.”

  “Who is this Shamus?” Celia asked.

  “He’s the Head Inventor here,” Ryker answered as he put the papers back into the cabinet and closed it. “We’d better get out of here.”

  They exited the records room but the sounds of the inventors returning sounded from the hall. “Hide,” Ryker ordered.

  They hid behind a generator as the inventors returned to the lab and continued their work.

  “What do we do now?” Celia whispered.

  A voice suddenly rang out from the stairs. “Intruders!” it yelled. A human inventor stumbled down the stairs and into the lab. “Creator Shamus, there’s an intruder somewhere in the labs. I found one of the mechanical felines deactivated upstairs.”

  Shamus swore. “Everyone get upstairs and lock down all the exits to this place.”

  The inventors and Shamus ran upstairs to do their commander’s bidding. Meanwhile, Ryker and Celia sprinted into the hallway at the corner of the room. They swung the door open and entered the inventor’s break room.

  “What do we do now?” Celia asked, her voice stricken with panic.

  Ryker looked around the room, searching for any way to get out. “There!” he said. He pointed to a vent cover at the base of the wall in the corner of the room. He pulled the cover off and let Celia slide into the small tunnel. He climbed in after her and returned the cover.

  They crawled for what seemed like miles until they reached an area where one of them could stand. Celia stood and looked out of a vent cover at the top of the ventilation section. “I think we’re behind the lab,” she said.

  “Good. Get that vent cover off and climb out.”

  Celia pounded on the cover with the bottom of her fist, but nothing happened. The vent was too small for her to swing very far and get a good amount of force behind her strike. She pounded on it again, still nothing. She drew her hand back to strike it again, but stopped. She then took out her lock picking kit and wedged the tools between the edge of the cover and the outside edge of the tunnel. She pressed them out and held them in place with one hand, and then smashed the cover again with the bottom of her other fist. The vent cover popped out, and Celia gracefully slid out of the tunnel. She located her tools and returned them to the strap on her thigh just as Ryker finished climbing out after her.

  Ryker returned the cover and they ran for the front of the Headquarters, being careful to stay low around windows to avoid being spotted by anyone inside.

  They returned to the front of the building and ran down the street tow
ard The Tankard.

  ***

  “Welcome back,” the large man guarding the flying machine said.

  “What happened here?” Ryker asked. He looked around at seven unconscious bodies lying around the flying machine.

  “One got too close to your machine, so I hit him in the head. When I turned around, three more of them leaped at me. So, I hit them all in the head, too. Before I knew it, I had hit seven people in the head, and here they all be.”

  “Impressive,” Ryker said with a smile. “But, I suppose we’ll be taking off now. Thank again, uh.”

  “ Milton Banks,” the large man said.

  “Well, thank you, Milton,” Ryker said. He nodded and started climbing into his flying machine.

  “Now hold on a minute,” Milton said. He had a terrifying smile on his face. “I went through a lot of trouble to protect your fancy machine here. Your coins aren’t enough.”

  “I’m sorry, Milton, but I don’t have any more coins on me right now. If you allow me to return to my lab, I’ll gladly get some more—”

  “No,” Milton interrupted. “I know just how you can pay me.” Milton grabbed Celia and threw her over his shoulder. Celia screamed and struggled to free herself, but Milton was too strong.

  Ryker jumped out of his seat and drew his revolver. “Put her down,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “This doesn’t concern you anymore,” Milton stated.

  “It does when you have my lady,” Ryker answered. “I’m not afraid to shoot you.”

  “Yes you are,” Milton retorted. “If you shoot me, they’ll send you off to the dungeons. What’ll you do with your lady then?”

  “You know, for an idiot, you’re pretty smart.”

  “Thank you,” Milton answered. He mouth stretched to a grin so large it forced his eyes closed.

  Ryker leapt forward and smashed Milton in the forehead with the handle of his pistol.

  Milton cried out and stumbled backward. His grip on Celia had loosened and she managed to free herself.

  She landed on her hands and flipped herself onto her feet. She spun around and kicked Milton in the jaw, and then punched him in the stomach.