Spectacular Moments of Wonder with Dr. Monocle: That Certain Gentleman

by John Theesfeld

  I kept my eye through mine and responded, “That crash? The man has had elephants dropped on his head.”

  I watched the fight. WingedMen and scuttlers fought hand to hand. Thugs tried to regain their stronghold at the saloon, but it was useless. Gunfire erupted from within the saloon. Crashing and smashing, bashing and lashing, I could hear The Strongman up and about. Through the windows scuttlers flew to the outside down to the platform below. He emerged, torn to shreds and bloody. His knuckles were splintered with bits of wood. A few shards of glass stuck from his forehead. Carrying in his left hand, by the neck, a member of The Insectoid Six. We ran to him as did others flanked behind the wall.

  He dropped the Havis Moth to the ground. Pyotr Havis. He was beaten badly. A WingedMan shackled the maldeviant fellow.

  Louise ran to him, “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, “I think I’ll be fine.”

  The area was in a terrible state of commotion. It was complete pandemonium. Everyone had questions. The Strongman looked around to gain his bearings. “I’m still a bit dizzy.”

  “Dr. Monocle,” Louise said firmly, “let’s get you to safety. This isn’t a place for you, sir.”

  “Yes, Officer.” I responded.

  She lead us away from the area. We were plenty safe and guarded at this point, surrounded by grateful WingedMen and WingGrrls. The Strongman became an instant war hero having flown himself directly into a Havis establishment and retrieve a member of The Insectoid Six by hand.

  Shaken and hearts still pounding due to the excitement, we were whisked away to the outskirts of the metro where we were served fresh seavenly and met by WingedMan Leo Liani and Royal Advisor James Travis, who unfortunately had been wounded in his arm. The poor chap held it in a sling.

  We were taken to a compound, the vast desert to its back. The building singular, but stretched far and deep. The building was fashioned the same as the surrounding metro, but decorated like that of a northern metro like Haverton. The two styles contrasted and complimented each other strangley.

  In front of the compound was the last metro road out of Chasm City. There were few skirmishes out this way. The skyline of Chasm City loomed just above. James explained to me that the building and the land was bought by The Monarch for a fair sum from Chasm City. It was deemed a Monarch Ambassadorship and therefore the land was Royal land and part of the Unified Metro System, thus it was now a part of The Clockwork Foundation.

  Inside, Leo thanked us profusely. Though the conversation did turn to Hendryk Alvarez. I told him the truth. His admittance to being a cult member of The Master Keypers, they key, the Wormatons, and how Hendryk met his demise. Leo and James' jaws hung, though, I kept details (one could say, key details) hidden from the story.

  “Astounding,” James muttered. “Simply astounding.”

  We discussed the ramifications of it all over seavenly. It all now seemed very surreal: That Certain Gentleman, The League of Ornery Bedfellows, The Master Keypers, the randomosity within it all. From the northern fog to the desert heat, we had been through much.

  Leo grumbled a farewell, “Well, you got what you came for Monocle, we should get you going.”

  “Indeed, I do have places to be.” I agreed.

  “And what about you? Maybe we could recruit you?” Leo said to The Strongman.

  The Strongman shook Leo’s hand, “Aye, Captain. You’ve got yourself an ally. Maximillian, though, he’s mine. There’s a bounty I’m wanting to claim.”

  “Take them all, if you’d like. I won’t complain.” Leo told him.

  “Well, Arthur,” James said to me, “there’s an airship ready to take flight.”

  “Allow me my farewells,” I said.

  I shook Leo’s hand and wondered if I would ever see him again. Our time together here was far too short.

  “Anytime, you feel like stopping by, my good doctor, you know where we are. Just look to the skies,” Leo said and pulled me in for an embrace.

  Louise stood next to him. I hadn’t seen her in years and I wasn’t certain when the next time would be. She had turned into a fine young woman. Brave and smart, a rare combination. She hugged me tight, “Be careful out there, Monocle.” And I gave her a smile.

  And then there was my friend, The Strongman, bruised and bloodied. He was a bit swollen, but he fared well. “Doc,” was all he could manage to say at first. After a moment he needlessly apologized, “Sorry I can’t go back with you, but, you know how it is.”

  “It’s quite all right, my friend. Quite all right, indeed.” I smiled to him. “When you get back, we’ll play some chess.”

  “I’d like that, doc,” he nodded.

  “Royal Advisor Travis,” I said, “to my airship!”

  With that, James lead me from the room and to a small airfield in the back of the settlement. I boarded the small personal craft, a Metro Sentry Pilot at the helm. I looked at James, “James, you know Metro Sentry isn’t allowed to operate outside of the Unified Metro System, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do,” he replied.

  “He shouldn’t be here,” I said referring to the Metro Sentry Pilot. “He could lose his license and serve prison time. You’d be jailed as well.”

  I looked around the compound to see several Metro Sentry Officers about the place. This didn’t seem right.

  “Please, Arthur,” James countered, “Leo asked for reinforcements, so I sent for reinforcements.”

  “Yes, Royal Huntsmen serve in assisting friendly states,” I stated knowing full and well using Metro Sentry outside of their jurisdiction was a bit taboo. An outside police force in this metro of bloodshed was only asking for certain trouble. “These men aren’t prepared for this kind of battle.”

  “They’re not here to fight the war, Arthur. They’re here to keep order after the war is over.” James explained.

  “Order? The WingedMen keep order.”

  “And Metro Sentry will assist them in keeping order.” James ushered me onto the airship.

  “Travel safely, Arthur.” James said as he closed the cabin door.

  And corruption does spread like cancer. This was just the beginning of a systematic movement to turn The Chasm into another metro under the control of The Clockwork Foundation.

  The pilot's name was Watterson. He was a young chap and a fair pilot. Fortunately he wasn’t much for conversation, for neither was I. Not that the trip was very long, perhaps ten minutes. Barely a jump from Chasm City to Railyard Metro, just another mining town barely surviving.

  I asked him to land as close as he could to Hotel Florence sponsored by SteelWorks. It was one of the more elegant buildings in Railyard Metro, originally built for the Works department heads who came through the metro on a regular basis.

  Watterson was able to land in a park nearby. The grass was dying, turning brown. A few cacti and other desert plants and flowers sprung forth, but they were in a sad state of affairs. He let me off and told me he'd wait.

  I strolled down the unpaved, non-cobbled, dusty metro street away from the park and towards the hotel. The buildings loomed overhead and the metro sat quietly. Tall structures built nearly on top of each other crowded the metro terribly. Although the spots of shade they provided was quite nice.

  Upkeep on the metro had ceased long ago. It was nearly a ghost town, almost completely abandoned.

  I found the hotel easily. I talked to the desk clerk and told him whom I was and asked if anyone was expecting me. The desk clerk turned around to the wall, a board of rooms numbers each with a string. He pulled at 17, "Shouldn’t be more than a moment, sir, he's been expecting you."

  And there he was, Mr. Kilmarten himself. "Monocle!" He said in a blustery mist of alcohol, "I was beginning to worry! I thought you were dead!”

  “Came very close to it on a few occasions, but I fared well.” I assured him.

  We met at the bottom of the stairs and shook hands. “Please, please,” he gestured outside, “there’s a tea house across the street.”<
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  We walked outside and across the street to the tea house, the entire time Mr. Kilmarten was in my ear, “I expected you sooner, but then I heard about what happened in Fenterwig. Then I began to fear that you weren’t going to be coming at all. But I was told to stay here until I heard otherwise. We had planned to send someone in looking for you, but that wouldn’t have been for weeks. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this dusty memory of a town with nothing to do.”

  We stepped through the doors of the tea house and he kept on, “This place, though, this place is alright, Monocle.”

  An elderly Gorillian woman greeted us, “Hello, Mr. Martin. How are we faring today?”

  “Fine, fine, thank you,” he replied and ushered me towards the back, “we’ll just have a seat in the back, a pot of black, please.” He smiled and she nodded in return.

  We sat in the back at a small table. The chairs were upholstered with fine Monarch fabrics. Ornamental rugs hung from the walls. It was dimly lit and cool inside, quite comfortable.

  “Well, did you find it?” Mr. Kilmarten asked without hesitation or pleasantries.

  I produced the key from inside my coat pocket and placed it on the table, “Wasn’t easy, but here it is.” As Mr. Kilmarten’s eyes seemed glued to the object, he reached for it, but I took it back. “This key,” I held it between my fingers and Mr. Kilmarten looked to me. With his attention, I continued, “It seems this key is of some importance. Are you aware of this, Mr. Kilmarten?”

  “It’ll go in a museum, Monocle,” he reassured me, “and if any so-called Master Keypers would like to come forward and claim the key, they are more than welcome.” He snickered and chortled.

  The hostess of the tea house brought us our pot of tea and cups. She poured our first cups and left us be. The aroma was strong.

  “I see you’ve found a fine cup,” I raised my tea to him before taking a sip, “Cheers.”

  “Cheers, indeed,” Mr. Kilmarten returned, “this place has been here since the beginning, when Railyard Metro was a little more than booming.”

  “Tell me,” I asked, “our hostess called you Mr. Martin?”

  “Since the incident at the estate, we’ve been on the run, so to speak.” Mr. Kilmarten took a sip of his drink. “Randolph Martin, pleased to meet you.” He gave a smile, a wink, and a nod.

  “They're still around, you know, The Master Keypers.” I said rather bluntly.

  “Oh? Is that so?” He seemed rather uninterested.

  “Yes. And the one we encountered was willing to commit murder to keep, not only the key, but knowledge of the key, from leaving the bottom of The Chasm.”

  “Well, that's why we sent you, Monocle, you're the best. You're back in one piece with the key.” His attempt at flattery failed miserably.

  “If there's one cultist, don't you think there will be others? Others whom are interested in the key's whereabouts?”

  “Hadn't considered it, really. So, what happened to the cultist?”

  “He's dead.”

  “Well, then, problem solved.”

  “The others will come looking. That doesn't sit well with me, Mr. Kilmarten. Now I have GhostWurks and cultists to contend with once I get back-”

  “Oh, no worries about GhostWurks. You've been cleared. I set up an injunction through a TrustWorks proxy which filtered down to several sub-offices and departments and ministries of BureauWorks. In short, you're safe. If GhostWurks shows up at your door, it will be for some other reason. As for the cultists, I’ll see what I can dig up. And, please, Mr. Martin.”

  “Well, Mr. Martin,” I said and offered him the key, “here you go.”

  Mr. Martin took the key and examined it, “How utterly dull.”

  “I did risk life and limb, I’ll remind you,” I said to deaf ears.

  He put it in his pocket while simultaneously retrieving several coins. He handed me four of the several he had, “Your wages have been deposited into your account. Here’s a little extra something for your worries, Monocle.”

  I took the coin and placed them inside my coat pocket. I took another sip of tea, this time a long sip taking in as much as I could. I placed the cup down nearly empty.

  “Well, Monocle,” Mr. Martin said, “I guess you can be going now.”

  “Kicking me out?” I laughed.

  “That’s right, get out, get going,” he said rather seriously. He continued in a sour tone, “We’re done here, Monocle. Finished. If you want more tea, go get another table, this one’s mine.”

  I was quite perplexed at his turn of attitude. “You’re being terribly rude,” I countered.

  He countered back, displaying his revolver from the other side of his coat pocket, “We’re done.”

  I stood from the table and backed away slowly before turning and making my way from the establishment. I was slightly shaken by the abrupt turn of personality on Mr. Scheckendale Kilmarten. Our business was done and that was the end. I walked back across the street and to the park to my awaiting airship. I boarded and we were soon off.

  It would be quite a while until we reach Haverton Falls, the trip would take a few hours. It was faster than by locomotive, for certain. We ascended and the metro shrunk below us and out of sight as we trailed off.

  Watterson offered a hammock below the main deck for some sleep and I took up his offer immediately. I went below deck and placed all of my belongings into my top hat and I wrapped my top hat in my coat. I stretched out on the hammock and gave a good yawn. I remember how comfortable that was and how refreshing it felt to be off of my feet. I was off into sleep in no time.

  37

  There were daisies three stories tall overhead like gas lamps caught in mid-explosion atop their posts. They swayed in concert as the breeze brushed them to and forth. I felt a fool for keeping to the path and not faring into the underbrush like a true adventurer, but a schedule I had to keep and time was already against me as it were. Besides, I saw the beady, glowing eyes within the darkness of the forest of stems. There was little light on the path due to the petals looming above keeping a steady shade; within the stems, darkness painted over everything.

  “Stick to the path,” I told myself, “Stick to the path and keep checking the time. Always be certain the time is on point! Ignore the beady eyes and let your curiosity wane. Forget the ache in your side. A mere cramp.”

  It’s always been my first instinct, no matter the situation, to point out the oddity and begin either asking questions or to tinker away, or in this case, badger whatever those beady eyes belonged to into showing itself (in the name of science, of course).

  We were already in free fall and the airship was ablaze when I awoke. We were obviously shot down from the sky. That was no malfunction, indeed. I was bleeding. I was becoming weak. Stead-forth, I ambled along the path. Watterson was dead. Where was I? Which forest had I been thrown into?

  It seemed another hefty breeze passed, the way it rolled the behemoth flowers must have taken great gusts to sway one even an inch. I listened carefully to the wind rip and tear about the canopy. I tuned in to the airy frequency and tried to drown out the pending reality.

  I could hear them behind me. They made their way from the cover of darkness onto the path. Each lumbered slowly from the stems, carefully, evenly from the brush. And I knew from the smell they were maldeviant animals. I could only be surprised finding my guess to be correct as I turned my head slightly to see what resembled a bear. I peered over my left shoulder just slightly. Just enough. Enough was too much. I turned my head forward and kept on. I was to be eaten like lunch.

  In my slight glance I saw the most fearful thing I could have imagined: maldeviant steamtech-enhanced bears. Mangy with a greenish hue to their matted fur. They were quite smallish for bears, perhaps due to their maldeviant nature. The one I caught a good glimpse of seemed to have a bear trap mounted to his own face, the spring mechanism reversed, a double bite of metal and fangs. Hideous they were. Their stride behind me was not that of approach, but of pacin
g and keeping tempo. They were trained well. I could hear the panting of one. The scent of my blood on the air must have tempted them into a terrible state.

  I stumbled. I felt the curse of age as my knee went limp for but a moment (but a moment too long). I gritted my teeth as the pain from my abdomen surged into my elbows and down to my heels and swirled everywhere in between and outwards.

  I smiled at the thought. Which would I rather, to fall over dead as my legs give out beneath me? Or to go out battling a group of steam-mechanized, clockwork enhanced, maldeviant bears? Well... Which would you choose?

  I held my umbrella close to my chest and upon releasing my blade, I turned to find my worst fears to be true. Three of them. I paced backwards on even keel. And again, I stumbled a bit off balance. My eyes widened instinctively as tunnel vision began to set in. I stood straight and backed away slowly, my eastern-crafted blade pointed towards them with purpose.

  Their noses twitched. It was the scent of my blood.

  I wasn’t certain that I could take all of them. There was one with a metal patch or plate over one of its eyes. I figured I’d take out his other eye, rendering him useless. Then I’d strike the first bear to attack, hopefully mortally wounding him. The other would probably have gotten the best of me by this time, unless I could get them to attack each other. My brain had a plan that my body wasn’t able to comply with, not in its current state.

  I stumbled a bit more, yet kept my stride even as I backed away from these beasts.

  This could be a plan for the books, I thought, if I ever live to write them! But alas, I could taste blood upon my tongue. I straightened up. I flashed my umbrella blade against the brief sunbeams through the petals above.

  “Come get me, you ravenous filth!” I shouted, a momentary mist of red sprayed into the air. Their noses sprung upwards. I stumbled once more and finally backwards. There was nothing left to keep me up. From behind, I felt hands beneath my arms catch me. He leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “You’ve got no fight left in ya, they’ll tear ya ta shreds, mate.” And I looked to the petals above swaying against the brilliant blue of the sky.