by Wol-vriey
“Damn!”
She sprang from the bed and began pulling her dress on as fast as she could. She didn’t bother doing up her bodice. “Shit, Jackson, you bastard!!!”
“Come on!” she told Big Chief Little John, “We need to find your daughter A.S.A.P!”
Alarmed, he grabbed his tomahawk and followed after her.
“Quick,” Alice said, once they were outside his teepee. “Which one is Delicate Rose’s tent?”
He pointed; they ran desperately for it.
***
The grisly scene that met their eyes was much worse than Alice could’ve imagined, even in her worst nightmares. None of the accounts she’d read prepared her for the sight of Jackson kneeling over Delicate Feather’s headless corpse, hacking away with his sickle and tossing her innards over his shoulder, like she was a wardrobe and he was digging for a pair of pants in her guts.
Her metal legs lay splayed across the bed like a wishbone.
Alice doubled over and began to retch uncontrollably.
Big Chief just stood there in shock, staring silently at his headless daughter and the naked, maniacal man crouched over her. He turned to Alice, his eyes imploring her to tell him it wasn’t true. She was too busy being sick to respond. She could only stare back at him with a horror reflecting his, thick strands of vomit dangling from her chin in the moonlight.
Prince Jackson came to realize that he was no longer alone with the corpse of Delicate Rose, but before he could even stand up to turn around, Big Chief Little John chopped him in two with a single stroke of his tomahawk, splitting the bastard from head to head.
With nothing left to defend, Big Chief dropped his weapon then, collapsing to his knees beside his daughter’s remains. His mighty shoulders heaved as he wept.
When Alice’s stomach finally stopped heaving, she straightened up and wiped the vomit from her lips. She spat at Prince Jackson’s corpse. Serves your psychotic ass right, she thought. At least now you won’t be going home to kill your mother . . .
While Big Chief continued to mourn, oblivious to all else, Alice gradually became aware of the loud rumbling overhead. A sudden wind arose, blowing against the teepee with a force that threatened to knock it over.
She placed the sound – airship engines. The wind – propellers!
The thunder overhead intensified. There was more than one airship up there – Alice was sure of it.
“The village is under attack!” she shouted at Big Chief. “I think it’s the Texan army!”
Big Chief stood up, eyeing Alice with hatred.
“I should kill you, too,” he told her. “You’re as much to blame for Delicate Rose’s death as your brother. You knew he was a killer!”
“I tried to warn her, but . . .”
He retrieved his tomahawk from where he’d dropped it before.
“I might still kill you later, Alice Paleface. Or maybe the Texan army will suffice for me to rage upon. For now, we must fight . . .”
There was a sudden movement behind them, just barely registered before Big Chief’s head exploded in a geyser of bone and brains. His corpse crumpled to the ground beside that of his daughter.
Alice was too shocked to react as the tent flaps parted. The squaw was tall and beautiful, with large breasts and a gleaming metal forearm. The left side of her face bore a long, thick scar, shadowed against the backdrop of fiery explosions enveloping the village outside.
She was carrying a steamgun with a barrel wide enough for Alice to stick her arm into. The weapon sizzled as drops of water escaped from its sizeable boiler, evaporating along its length. She carried an additional gun as well, a small revolver, in the holster at her waist.
It was none other than Big Chief’s runaway wife, Metal Feather – she of the toothy vagina.
Metal Feather smiled at Alice. “Miss Alice Sin, latterly of New York City, I presume? You’re coming with me,” she said. “Her majesty the Clockwork Goddess wishes to see you.”
“Alive?” Alice asked, stalling for time.
“Of course she wants you alive, you fool. If she did not . . .”
Metal Feather gestured to Big Chief’s corpse on the ground. She stood framed in the tent’s entrance, flashes of light silhouetting her menacing form with each resounding boom.
“Let’s get a move on,” she said. “We’ve not got all . . .”
Her attention was caught by Big Chief’s metal manhood, exposed now that his loincloth had been flung across his thighs. Metal Feather was surprised. She walked over to examine it more closely, then laughed.
“I’ll be damned . . .” she said, tapping a metal finger against the appendage. “Just wait till the goddess hears about this.”
A thought suddenly occurred to her.
“Does this thing actually work, Alice?” she asked, turning around slowly. “As his latest conquest, I assume you’ve . . .”
Meanwhile, Alice had used the opportunity afforded by Metal Feather’s momentary distraction to arm herself with Prince Jackson’s sickle. She swung it hard at Metal Feather’s belly, remembering that the squaw was equipped with a metal skull. As the cold, hard metal sliced through her soft abdominal flesh, Alice was rewarded with a thoroughly satisfying shriek of pain.
She ripped the sickle straight through Metal Feather’s stomach, then lunged forward with a powerful head butt, causing her to slip on Jackson’s stinking guts and fall back onto the bed. Her enormous steamgun flew out of her hands and clattered to the ground.
Alice leapt on top of her then, ripping Metal Feather apart with the sickle as violently as Jackson had done to Delicate Rose. Over and over again she hacked and slashed at her body, all the while as Metal Feather thrashed and kicked and splattered blood and guts everywhere, thrashing and kicking some more.
Meanwhile, the screaming and explosions outside formed a macrocosm of the carnage within the tent. Just as Metal Feather shook the bed in the fight of her life, so did bombs shake the village with their indiscriminate violence. Finally she ceased thrashing and kicking, and then stopped moving altogether.
Alice eventually emerged from the bloodlust that had consumed her, allowing the gore-slick sickle to slip through her fingers. She had just pulled herself together, preparing to flee the flaming village once and for all, when she noticed the odd noise emanating from Metal Feather’s lifeless body.
Alice examined the mess she’d made of the squaw. In the remains of her shredded groin, there was a mass of teeth, still gnashing just as savagely as ever. Even in death, Metal Feather’s insatiable cunt was seeking something to sink its teeth into.
The sight of it unnerved Alice – at first. Smiling, she bent down and took up Jackson’s sickle once again. Walking over to Big Chief Little John’s corpse, she carefully cut the thick metal penis away from his body. Twisting its screw until the shaft grew a full foot in length, she then carried it back over to the bed.
Alice stuffed the clockwork cock down into Metal Feather’s exposed uterus, forcing it through her cervix and into her vagina from the inside out, the teeth grinding ineffectually upon the hard metal. Its cold, iron tip eventually emerged between her legs, parting her labia like a flower opening at dawn.
“Chew on that,” she spat at the abomination before her. “It’s a shame he didn’t get this upgrade before the two of you wed – would’ve been a marriage made in Heaven . . .”
Alice then removed Metal Feather’s holster belt, strapped it to herself, claimed her steamgun and exited the tent. Her only thought now was to find Crank and get the Hell out of there.
Chapter 8
Outside there was nothing but charred corpses and smoldering tepees. The nighttime sky looked more like noon in the glare of the huge gaslights overhead. Hanging from the undersides of the anchored airships, their intense luminescence was reflected groundward by a complex array of mirrors.
Although the village had already been leveled to the ground, the battle continued to rage just as terribly as before. The Texan airships were now facing stiff
resistance from Mech-Sioux rustlers, exchanging cannonballs over what was left of the Indian’s home. Alice was reminded of the war-spider attacks on New York City. Luckily for the Mech-Sioux, there were few rivers in this arid region, but there was nowhere to hide from the airships in the sky.
When Alice caught sight of her first Puma, she wished she’d never in her entire misguided life ever dreamt of coming to Texas. The fearsome creature had to be at least eight feet tall, and it was riding upon a large mechanical horse.
The Puma was naked but had no need of clothes, being totally covered with golden fur. Her head was that of a lioness, Alice realized. Her hands and feet ended in LOOOONG black claws. Her body was trim but muscular, and her breasts were like furry golden orbs. Just like any cat, her legs had three joints each. Alice couldn’t decide whether the Puma looked like a cat transforming into a woman, or a woman transforming into a cat.
The she-lion’s mechanical horse was proportionally massive, spurting streams of scalding steam from its nostrils. Noxious, black smoke billowing from its arse, the beast looked as though it could’ve proved lethal even at range. Its body was constructed of metal plates overlaid like scales, flexing like a fish as it galloped forth. A perpetual clanking of gears and levers accompanied its every movement. Just beneath its built-in saddle was a large, grated furnace in which a coal fire burned.
Considering the design of this hulking metal horse, Alice was reminded of Lord Busybody’s observation that Texans had no need for fuel economy – not with the sheer amount of coal they had access to.
Alice watched the Puma ride her metallic mount towards a group of Mech-Sioux braves. They fired upon her as she charged, but their shots ricocheted off the tempered iron steed, rearing up at the barrage to deflect their bullets into a cluster of nearby teepees instead.
All at once the Puma was amongst the braves, hacking viciously with her double-edged battleaxe. Their metal limbs and armor proved no protection from the she-cat’s sheer brute strength. Heads rolled from their shoulders like defilements, littering the sacred ground.
The Puma’s horse killed many braves as well, punching holes straight through their bodies with its sharpened, steel-shod hoofs.
Sensing their defeat, a lone squaw attempted retreat. Showing no mercy, the Puma swiftly chased her down. Spearing her through the back with her claws, she lifted the screaming woman aloft with ease, tossing her body over the shattered remains of a teepee.
The Puma rode off into the night, searching for other survivors.
Deciding that her hefty steamgun would only prove to be an encumbrance, if she had to flee one of these savage beasts herself, Alice wisely tossed it away.
***
Keeping well out of sight, Alice ran for the bio-engineering wigwams. Dwarfing as they did the other Mech-Sioux buildings, the massive metal structures made easy targets as she weaved a path through the wreckage of the village.
Alice was galvanized by the fact that Metal Feather had not only known her name, but also that the Clockwork Goddess was expecting her. The Texan queen’s knowledge of Alice’s presence in her domain could only have come from Baker the caterpillar, who’d overheard them plotting her death in New York.
Of course, this meant that their assassination plot was already dead in the water. This in turn meant that Mech-Anna was clearly gunning for Alice now herself, with the goal of exacting revenge on her. Wanting her alive simply meant torture, which Alice had neither the stomach for nor the intention of participating in.
Texas was clearly now a very unsafe place to be, especially for Alice Sin and Crank. Queen Anna Busybody may have been incapacitated, but this Clockwork Goddess impostor, whoever she was, was clearly more than capable of protecting herself.
Time to get the fuck out of here!
***
Alice passed many braves and squaws with rifles en route to her destination. Several of them were in heavy-duty vehicles, actively hunting for the Pumas so as to give as good as they got. A number of the Texan airships were now engulfed in flames, but so were several Mech-Sioux rustlers, which the airships had sprayed with tar and set ablaze with cannon fire.
Indians versus Pumas versus Indians versus Pumas . . . Alice dodged and weaved around myriad bloody engagements, ducking into a teepee just as a Puma came into view, fleeing a force of pursuant Sioux.
From the safety of her enclosure, Alice watched as the Indians ran down the she-lion, firing relentlessly until she finally agreed to fight them. Her metal horse had one of its rear legs damaged, metal cables sprouting like wiry grass from the blast hole in its buttock. Apparently ready to try its luck on foot instead, the Puma dismounted her wounded steed, leaping through the air with her battleaxe whirling as she rushed to attack.
The Puma set upon them immediately. The sheer speed of the creature took the Sioux by surprise. Despite being only one to their many, her ferocity nearly overpowered them. When they recovered from the initial shock of her attack, they blew the she-cat to bits, but not before she’d decapitated several of them with her blurring blades.
Alice ripped a hole in the opposite side of the tent and slunk out that way. She had to dodge around two more skirmishes before finally reaching the bio-engineering wigwam Crank had gone to earlier.
Only Crank wasn’t anywhere to be found within. Finding equal success along its vast perimeter, Alice was just about to strike off into the hills alone when she spotted a steamcar racing toward her.
“
Alice explained in a rush, giving Crank a supplementary wind-up as she did.
“Look, Crank,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat. “It’s time we forgot all about assassinating Mech-Anna. We’re heading back to New York this moment!”
“
Alice smiled grimly, gesturing back to the carnage in the distance.
“What use is it being a wealthy twenty-two year old corpse?”
“
“Are you going to get this car moving back towards New York, or do I need to set out on foot?”
“
Crank was just about to shift into gear when they heard the hooves approaching from behind.
“Ahhhh . . .” purred a deep, feline voice. “THERE they are!”
Alice and Crank both turned around to face their enemy. A group of eight Pumas on metal horseback had snuck up on their position, baring their fangs and licking their lips in anticipation.
“We order you to surrender yourselves immediately!” roared their tiger-striped leader. “To her glorious Majesty Queen Mech-Anna, the Clockwork Goddess, supreme ruler of all Texas!”
Observing the determination of their fearsome foes, Alice realized that she hadn’t been this scared since the night the Ripper had attempted disemboweling her. Still, knowing what she knew now, there was just no going to Dallas anymore – not for any reason.
“We will not!” she shouted defiantly, standing up in the steamcar to emphasize her point.
“Surrender to us NOW!!!” the Puma’s leader hissed, her whiskers twitching spastically as she reached for her battleaxe.
“
“That’s right!” Alice called back at them, taunting the indignant Pumas as they left them behind in a cloud of dust. “Go lick your wounds, you bunch of mangy cunts!”
The beast bitches meowed in fury at the insult, spurring their steeds to chase after the fugitive New Yorkers.
“
Crank began, as they sped through the front gate of the Mech-Sioux enclosure. “I’M NOT SURE IT WAS WISE TO OFFEND THEM SO.”
“Just drive!” Alice screamed over the roaring engine.
Book Three: The Clockwork Goddess
Chapter 1
Cake
As though the night had finally grown tired of the Texans’ incessant fireworks display, retiring to try again the following evening, it was suddenly daylight once again – broad, glaring daylight, with the sun full overhead.
“Are you certain we’re still in Texas?” Alice asked, as the world suddenly righted itself into another morning.
Crank peered into the rearview mirror. “
Alice looked back, seeing that it was true – the horizon still thronged with burning airships. She also made out the figures of the Pumas on their metal horses, less than a quarter-mile off.
“How much longer can this vehicle go on?”
“
Alice took note of their stocks in the back seat. “We’re good to escape, then.”
“
Alice nodded in agreement, but then remembered her glimpse of the furnace in the metal horse’s rump.
“True, but the horses have less space to store fuel than we do. They’ll definitely be forced to stop before us!”
“
***
The road eventually bent around a clump of woods, and the Pumas disappeared from sight for a while. Perhaps due to wishful thinking, it almost seemed to Alice and Crank that they’d finally lost them. When the road straightened out again, however, Alice looked back and gasped at what she saw.
“Damn, they’re gaining on us!”